#wwe fandom

[onlyangel4]

in your corner. roman reigns.

roman reigns x reader.

synopsis: you were cm punk’s sister. you were supposed to stay away from roman reigns. but what started as backstage tension turned into more and when things bubble over between your brother and roman, you are left not knowing what to do.

warnings: cursing. smut. angst with a happy ending. 18+

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you never meant for it to happen.

it started small, casual glances backstage, a shared smirk during catering, the brush of his hand a little too close to your waist as he passed behind you in a hallway that was definitely wide enough. you didn’t think much of it at first. roman reigns had that kind of presence. intense. charismatic. impossible to ignore. you figured he was just like that with everyone.

until he wasn’t.

until he started seeking you out, finding excuses to be where you were, lingering a little too long in doorways, catching your eyes from across gorilla with a look that made your stomach twist.

you tried to ignore it. you really did.

especially when punk, your brother, made it very clear where he stood. roman was off-limits. end of discussion.

"he’s manipulative. he’s dangerous. he’s not who you think he is.", your brother had previously warned

"and what if i can make that decision for myself?" you’d challenged.

"i won't let him hurt you"

it should’ve stopped there. but it didn’t.

because one night, after a show, you found yourself in an empty hallway behind the curtain, lights still dim, the crowd’s energy still buzzing through the walls and roman was waiting there, arms folded across his chest like he’d known you’d come.

"you always sneak off like that?" he asked, eyes glinting in the dark.

you swallowed "just needed some air."

"or maybe you knew i’d be here", he pushed "maybe", your mouth moved before your mind could stop it.

he pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you in three slow steps. not touching but close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off his skin. your pulse kicked.

"you know what your brother would do if he saw this", he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "we’re not doing anything", you said, though your voice had gone breathless. "yet"

his fingers brushed yours, soft, deliberate, like he was testing the water. you didn’t move away.

you should have.

instead, you whispered, "you think you’re dangerous?"

roman smiled. that slow, wolfish curl of his lips that made your knees weak.

"i know i am."

then he kissed you.

it wasn’t sweet. it wasn’t careful. it was heat and frustration and weeks of tension finally snapping. he kissed you like he’d been holding back for too long, and when his hand slipped behind your neck, pulling you closer, you let him. You kissed him back just as fiercely.

by the time you pulled away, breathless, lips tingling. your head was spinning.

"we shouldn’t", you whispered.

"say the word and i’ll stop", he said.

but you didn’t say a word.

and neither did he when he walked away a moment later, leaving you standing there in the dark with your heart pounding and your hands shaking.

it wasn’t the last time. it was just the beginning.

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it wasn’t supposed to go past that kiss.

you told yourself that every time it happened again, every time you found yourself tucked into a shadowy corner backstage, pressed against a wall with roman’s lips on your throat and your hands tangled in his hair.

but it kept happening.

quick moments. secret touches. just enough to drive you crazy, never enough to satisfy. the fire between you and roman simmered beneath the surface, unspoken but ever-present. and every time your brother was nearby, laughing with paul, barking orders in the locker room, you felt the weight of it. the guilt. the thrill.

the danger.

one night, after the show

you ducked into the trainer’s room late, already knowing who’d be in there.

he was sitting on the edge of the table, shirtless, his ribs wrapped and sweat still slick on his skin. He didn’t look up right away, but his voice gave him away.

"you keep finding me."

you smiled faintly, shutting the door behind you. "you keep getting hurt."

he finally looked at you then, really looked. there was something softer in his eyes tonight. less edge, more weariness.

"does it bother you?", he asked.

"what?"

"that we’re hiding."

you hesitated. the truth tasted like betrayal, but it also tasted like him. "sometimes."

he nodded slowly, jaw flexing. you crossed the room, gently placing your fingers on the edge of the tape wrapping his ribs.

"does it hurt?" you asked.

"only when i breathe", he muttered, then cracked the smallest smile. "or when you look at me like that."

you tried to roll your eyes, but your lips curved anyway. you were already close, too close. your hand slid up his chest before you could stop it, your fingers brushing his jaw. and then you were kissing him again.

slower this time. deeper. His hands gripped your hips like he needed something to hold onto, like if he let go, you’d disappear.

"you know this isn’t just messing around anymore", he said against your lips.

"i know", you whispered back.

"and if he finds out"

"then he finds out.", you finished the sentence for him.

he pulled back slightly, searching your face. "you’d choose this? over him?"

that made you pause. the silence between you went heavy.

you didn’t have an answer yet.

but you were already there, weren’t you? already choosing, every time you showed up at his door, every time you let him touch you like this.

so you kissed him again.

"let me worry about my brother", you murmured. "just, don’t stop needing me."

his response was a low groan, and the way he kissed you then? it was closer to worship than want. like he knew he shouldn’t have you, and still he just couldn’t let go.

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you were standing just behind the curtain, headset hanging loosely around your neck, pretending to look busy. pretending not to watch roman.

The crowd was white-hot. as the three of them stood in the ring, Roman Reigns, flanked by paul heyman, staring down seth and punk, both with mics in hand.

the energy felt dangerous.

you weren’t even supposed to be watching. you told yourself not to care. Not to feel. but you were already standing by the monitor, arms crossed over your chest, heart hammering in your throat.

you watched the monitors as transfixed as the rest of the crowd. your own brother had not told you what the favour was going to be.

you had no clue that it was going to be something as insane as this.

the words being thrown around by the men in the ring became a blur.

that was until you heard the shift in your brother's tone.

that made you really tune into what he was saying.

"cause at wrestlemania. in the main event. in my corner. your wiseman. my best friend"

you gasped cupping your mouth

"paul heyman"

your brother had done it. he had stripped roman of his wise man.

you watched on as the men exchanged heated words but eventually paul admitted that he was going to be in punk's corner.

you watched on with devastation etched on your features and your brother delivered a devastating gts to the man you had been seeing for the past eight months.

you couldn't watch.

so you left.

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you didn’t go back to the locker room. you couldn’t look your brother in the eye. couldn’t bear to hear him justify what he just did. you didn’t even know where roman went, security said he left alone, bruised, silent, furious.

but you had to see him.

you needed to see his face.

needed him to know he wasn’t alone.

even if it meant breaking every rule.

even if it meant choosing him.

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when you got to the hotel you basically knocked his door down. "roman, it’s me."

silence.

then the door creaked open.

he stood there shirtless, wrapped in bandages, jaw bruised, eyes glassy. you’d never seen him like this, not broken, no. roman reigns didn’t break. but he looked, lost.

"what are you doing here?"

"i saw what happened. i had to see you"

"you shouldn’t be here."

but he didn’t close the door. and you didn’t leave.

he turned away, running a hand down his face as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

"he was all i had left. paul. jacob's gone. solo’s gone. now him. just." he shook his head. "gone."

you walked in slowly, gently shutting the door behind you.

"you’re not alone."

he laughed once, dry and bitter. "aren’t i? you’re his sister. you’re supposed to be on his side."

you knelt in front of him, your hands settling on his thighs, fingers brushing over bruises. "i’ve been on your side since this started"

he blinked, startled by the words. you kept going before you lost your nerve.

"i tried to stay away. i tried to do what he wanted. but i can’t keep pretending this doesn’t matter. that you don’t matter."

his voice cracked.

"don’t say it unless you mean it."

you reached up, brushing a thumb under his eye where a bruise was forming.

"i love you."

he inhaled like he’d been drowning.

then he pulled you into his arms, and didn’t let go.

the clothes came off slowly. one layer at a time, like unwrapping something fragile. he touched you with reverence, like memorizing every inch of skin beneath his fingertips. like if he just touched you long enough, maybe the rest of the world would fade.

when he finally pushed inside you, it wasn’t rough, it was steady. deep. like he needed to be there. like he needed to feel every part of you wrapped around him, holding him together.

you moaned softly against his mouth, arms looped around his shoulders, nails digging in just enough to ground you both.

his forehead dropped to yours, breathing heavy, jaw tight.

"you feel like peace", he whispered, voice raw. "and i haven’t had peace in a long, long time."

you cupped his face again, eyes locked on his.

"then take it. take me."

he moved inside you with a rhythm that was slow and deliberate, hips rolling into yours like he couldn’t get close enough. like it wasn’t about getting off, it was about holding on.

each thrust, each breath, each soft moan between you, it built not toward a climax, but toward something bigger. something almost holy.

and when he came, it was with a low groan pressed against your shoulder, arms locked around your waist like a man anchoring himself to the only solid thing left in his life.

you followed right after, trembling in his lap, heart pounding against his chest like a war drum. but it wasn’t chaos this time.

it was peace.

you stayed like that for a long time. just breathing. tangled together.

eventually, his voice came, low and gruff against your hair, "you meant it. when you said you loved me.”

you nodded.

"i did. i do."

he exhaled.

"then i’m not letting you go. not for him. not for anyone. because i love you too"

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It was well past 2 a.m. when the silence finally wrapped around you both like a blanket. the air in the hotel room was warm, soft with the rhythm of your breathing, your bodies still tangled beneath the sheets. his arm was draped across your waist, fingers gently tracing circles against your hip, like he couldn’t quite stop touching you.

you could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing against the back of your neck.

"you’re thinking too loud", you murmured.

he chuckled, barely.

"can’t help it."

you turned to face him, noses nearly touching. "talk to me."

his eyes searched yours like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

"i don’t know what to do now", he said honestly. "this, you. it’s the only thing that doesn’t feel like it’s falling apart."

you rested your hand against his chest, feeling the slow, heavy thump of his heart. "then hold on to it."

"It’s not just that", he said, eyes flickering between yours. "it’s the way you look at me. like i’m not just what i’ve built. like i’m not the crown or the gold or the image heyman polished for the cameras."

he swallowed hard.

"i don’t even know who i am without all that."

you leaned in, lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

"you’re the man who stood by everyone, even when it cost you. you’re the man who led because no one else could. but under all of that, you’re roman. you’re joe. and i love him."

his breath hitched at your use of his real name. no stage lights. no persona. just him.

"you’re not afraid of him?"

"no", you said gently. "because he’s the one who lets me in."

he closed his eyes for a long moment, forehead resting against yours again. you could feel him surrendering, not to defeat, but to trust.

"if i let you in i don’t think i'll be able to shut you out again."

"good", you whispered.

he pulled you closer until your leg was hooked over his waist again, your head tucked beneath his chin. and he held you there like you were a lifeline. like you were all that kept him tethered to the world.

"you’re not just in my corner now", he murmured into your hair. "you are my corner. my only safe place."

you didn’t respond. you didn’t have to.

you just held him tighter.

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you barely heard the knock at first, just a dull thud against the wood. you were half-asleep, curled into roman’s chest, his arm heavy around your waist, the sun bleeding in through the curtains.

it came again.

he groaned low in his throat. "ignore it."

but something in your chest said don’t. something in your gut knew.

you slipped out of bed quietly, wrapping the hotel sheet around your body as you padded barefoot to the door.

another knock. this time harder. angrier.

you looked through the peephole.

shit.

you turned to roman. "it’s him."

his eyes opened slowly. "who?"

you hesitated, heart kicking up.

"my brother"

roman sat up instantly.

"don’t open it."

but it was too late.

the second you cracked the door open, punk shoved it wide.

he took one look at you, hair a mess, bruises on your collarbone, wrapped in a sheet and then at roman, shirtless, sitting up in the bed behind you.

his face turned to stone.

"you’ve got to be fucking kidding me."

"phil, don’t", you started

"don’t?” his voice rose, sharp and cruel. "don’t what, y/n? don’t be pissed that my sister is sleeping with the guy i’ve told her a hundred times to stay away from? the same guy i just humiliated in front of the world?”

roman stood, slow and steady. he didn’t reach for a shirt. he didn’t flinch.

"get out."

punk ignored him completely, eyes on you like roman wasn’t even there.

"you chose him? after everything? after i told you what kind of man he is, what he’s done?"

"i know who he is", you said quietly. "better than you do."

"bullshit", punk snapped. "he’s using you. he’s trying to get to me."

that made roman laugh, low and bitter.

"trust me, man", he said, stepping closer, "if this was about you, i’d have finished it in the ring. but it’s not. she’s not yours to control."

punk’s jaw clenched. "and you think you’re better?"

"i’m not trying to own her. i’m just not letting her walk away."

you stepped between them then, hands on roman’s chest to steady him, voice firm.

"I’m not leaving him."

punk looked at you like you’d slapped him.

"so that’s it?", he said. "you’re just gonna throw me away for him?"

you took a breath.

"no. you decided that you had a say in the guys i date. i am an adult and i can make my own choices, you just look right through me, like i'm not here."

his expression faltered. for just a second.

but you weren’t done.

"i've stood in your shadow for years. done what you asked. been quiet. been good. but this?", you reached for roman’s hand. "this is mine. and i’m not hiding it anymore."

roman laced his fingers through yours without hesitation.

punk stared at the two of you, face blank, rage seething just beneath the surface.

"fine", he said at last, voice like a blade. "but don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart."

with that he turned and walked out.

the door clicked shut, and roman didn’t say a word.

he just held you.

no big, cinematic moment. no speech. just the solid weight of his arms, the warmth of his chest, the quiet pulse of his heart against your ear.

for a man known for power, for dominance, for the way entire arenas bent to his will, he held you like you were everything.

"he’s not wrong", roman murmured, voice low. "i’ve hurt people. i've made choices i'm not proud of."

you looked up at him, fingers sliding along his jaw. "so have i"

he studied you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed you, slow, careful, like he was still asking if it was okay to want you like this. but you kissed him back with no hesitation. because this time, there were no secrets. no hiding. just you and him, the quiet, and the bed you’d already made together.

this time when you made love, it wasn’t desperate.

it was intentional.

roman laid you back on the bed with reverence, like you were something sacred. his fingers slid over every inch of skin with slow, practiced care, as if he wanted to memorize you in this light. with the sun streaming in, with no shadows left to hide in.

"i never asked what you wanted", he whispered as he kissed down your chest. "always just took what i needed. but you’re not just comfort. you’re not a secret. you’re mine. and i wanna give you everything."

you smiled, breathless, as his mouth found the curve of your thigh.

"then shut up and do it."

he growled against your skin, and then his mouth was on you, tongue slow, deliberate, teasing in the worst and best ways. his hands held your hips down while you writhed beneath him, moaning his name, fingers clutching the sheets like they were the only thing keeping you grounded.

when he slid into you again, it was different than before.

this time, it was a promise.

every thrust, every kiss, every breath was slow and drawn out, a rhythm just for the two of you. he took his time, not because he was unsure, but because he could. because the storm had passed, and now you were both just home.

when you came, it was with his name in your mouth and his forehead pressed to yours.

"i love you", you whispered again, and this time, he didn’t freeze.

"i love you more", he breathed back, and you felt it down to your bones.

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you didn’t expect him to knock again.

but a few hours later, there he was.

punk.

no fury. no yelling. just him, tired, red-eyed, arms crossed over his chest.

roman stood back when you opened the door. he didn’t interfere. he just watched.

"can we talk?" your brother asked quietly.

you stepped out into the hallway, arms crossed for protection you weren’t even sure you needed.

he rubbed the back of his neck. "i was outta line. i know i was.”

you didn’t say anything yet.

"i don’t get it", he said. "why him. why now. but i saw the way he looked at you. and i saw the way you stood up to me."

his voice cracked just a little.

"you looked happy. for once. really happy."

you swallowed hard.

"i am."

punk nodded slowly. "then that’s all i care about."

a pause.

"but if he hurts you"

"he won’t", you cut in.

he sighed. "guess we’ll see."

and then, he reached for you. pulled you into a tight, quiet hug. the kind you used to get when you were kids. the kind that meant sorry and i love you all at once.

"still hate that it’s him", he muttered.

"i know."

"still hate it."

"i know."

but when you stepped back, he was smiling, just a little.

and for now, that was enough.

[keekee-23]

Too cute! 😂

[spiicii]

roman reigns / punishment

x fem!reader word count → 2.2k summary → the tribal chief rarely has to punish you. but after you decide to backtalk him, you quickly learn that he has little patience for brats.   notes → heard you freaks wanted more daddy roman reigns...don't say i never did anything for you ;) links → masterlist / taglist  tags → unprotected piv sex, dom/sub, daddy kink, degradation, begging, overstimulation, orgasm delay, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking

“Daddy, please.” Your voice was small, your words breathless as you struggled to stay balanced in Roman’s lap. You felt dizzy with arousal and exhaustion, the world around you hazy as you struggled to focus on your next words. “Please, I need…I need…” 

“Shut up.” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you knew they’d leave bruises. “You only got one job, slut. Ride.” 

He tightened his grip against you and you whimpered, struggling to obey. The muscles in your legs were burning from how long he’d kept you here, your forehead beaded with sweat. You were trying your best to keep up with the pace he wanted as you bounced on his massive length, his cock nudging against your cervix with every movement of your hips. You weren’t sure you could keep up for much longer, your body trembling as you struggled to lift yourself up and ease back down. 

“I can’t,” you whined, hating how pitiful your voice sounded, even to your own ears. “It hurts. Daddy, please.” 

“You earned this, little girl.” Roman’s dark eyes were simmering when he looked up at you. “Hopefully this will teach you not to backtalk me.” 

You whimpered at his words. “I’m sorry.” Your voice quivered, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, Daddy. Really I didn’t.” 

“Hm.” Roman didn’t seem convinced, his large hands reaching around to grab at both of your asscheeks. He squeezed them hard, causing your movements to falter as you continued to ride him. “I don’t think you’re sorry. Not really. Not yet.” 

He smacked your ass so hard that you let out a cry, the skin burning from where his hand connected. “I didn’t say you could stop. Go on. You seem to know what’s best, so you do all the work. It’s what you wanted, right?” 

You shook your head at his words, though you still obeyed, forcing your shaking legs to hold your weight as you moved up and down at his cock. Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t deny the feeling of pleasure pulsing from your core, his massive cock rubbing against your g-spot with every movement. You were so wet that you could feel your own juices leaking out, coating the Tribal Chief’s dick and dripping down onto his heavy balls below. He’d already denied you twice, refusing to let you come since this was meant to be a punishment, not a reward. Your whole body was trembling with need, struggling to form a coherent thought as he continued to fill you so perfectly. 

You slammed down on Roman’s cock with more force than you intended and you let out a moan at the feeling, scrabbling for purchase against Roman’s strong chest. “Daddy.” You gave him a heartbroken look, tears coating your long eyelashes. “Please. I’m sorry.” 

Roman reached up to cup your cheek, your eyes fluttering at his touch. You couldn’t help but lean into it, your heart stuttering from just an ounce of his attention. 

“I don’t know, baby.” He murmured, his other hand still gripping your hip tightly. “I thought you were my good girl. You know I don’t play with brats.” 

You let out a small whine, trying your best to continue to move despite the burn in your muscles. “I am. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

Another bounce on the Tribal Chief’s cock had your eyes rolling back into your head, your entire body beginning to tense again. You let out a broken gasp, the tears beginning to spill from your eyes. 

“Please. I’m so close.” You gave your master a pleading look. “Can I come? Please?” 

“No.” Roman’s next slap against your ass was harder, your skin now red and stinging. “Only good girls who listen to their Daddy and don’t backtalk get to come. And that’s not you, is it, brat?” 

You couldn’t contain the small sob that escaped your lips, your movements stuttering. “Please. I can be good. I won’t do it again, Daddy. I promise.” 

Roman’s gaze was made of steel. “Prove it to me. Ride my dick like a good girl and prove that you’re not just some untrained whore that I should send back onto the street.” 

His words stung, but you knew you deserved them. You weren’t normally a brat. Normally you were obedient and sweet, eager to please your Tribal Chief and obey his every command. But something in Roman’s tone earlier today had caused you to snap at him. You couldn’t tell who was more surprised at your outburst, you or him, but it hadn’t mattered in the end. The Tribal Chief had no patience for brats, a point he’d made very clear when you first started your relationship. 

“Is that what you want?” Roman asked, his tone harsh. “That why you talked back to me? You don’t wanna be my good girl anymore?” 

You couldn’t hold back the tears now, sniffling pitifully as you struggled to keep your movements steady as you rode him. “Nooo, no, Daddy. I want to be good for you. I promise.” 

Roman’s grip on your jaw turned punishing and you whimpered. “That’s right. You’re gonna be good for me. You’re not gonna be a brat anymore, are you, sweetheart?” 

You were quick to nod, still trying to stifle your sobs. “I won’t, Daddy. I promise. Please, I’m so sorry.” 

Roman released your jaw, reaching up to card his fingers through your hair. “We’ll see. Keep going, baby. Show me how sorry you are.” 

You worked hard to obey him, small pants of breath falling from your lips as you struggled to ride. Your calves were burning, sweat continuing to bead on your forehead. Your skin felt hot and feverish, still thrumming with arousal as Roman’s cock continued to fill you so perfectly. You could feel the tension coiling inside you like a spring, but you worked hard to resist it. You wanted to be obedient. You wanted to be good. 

But you could only go for so long. Eventually your movements began to slow, wheezing as you struggled to catch your breath. Your legs began to shake, your grip on Roman’s shoulders tightening as you tried to stay balanced. You struggled to keep your eyes open, exhaustion forcing them closed even as that low simmer of pleasure continued to unfurl from inside you. 

“Aw, all worn out, baby?” Roman sounded amused, his hand tugging against your scalp to force you to meet his gaze. “Getting tired?” 

You let out a distressed sound, still trying to find the strength to lift up your hips one more time. “I’m sorry.” Your voice came out as barely a whisper. “I can’t…please…” 

Roman’s gaze softened. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?” 

“Please, Daddy.” You slurred, your eyelids fluttering as he kept that dominant grip on your hair. “Can’t do it. Need you so bad.” 

Roman chuckled, placing both of his hands on your hips to keep you steady as he began shallowly thrusting into your soaked hole. “So spoiled, aren’t you, baby? Always get what you want, don’t you?” 

You were too far gone to notice the unfairness of his words, a low moan tearing from your throat as he began to pick up the pace. He held you up with an easy strength, his arms wrapped around your waist to bring you up to meet him with every thrust. You could feel that familiar pleasure creep up your spine again, your exhausted muscles beginning to shake with a new desperation. 

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, throwing your head back as the Tribal Chief’s cock continued to assault your g-spot, his thrusts unfaltering. “Please, can I come?” 

Roman laughed again, the sound mean. “Why would I let you come, slut? Do you think you’ve earned it?” 

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything right now. All you knew was that you could barely keep your eyes open, the exhaustion and arousal turning your brain into mush as Roman kept up the pace, pounding into you with fervor. 

“I…I don’t know.” You choked on a sob, trying so hard to hold off your release and be good for him. “I just…please, Daddy, I need to come so bad. Please!” 

Roman reached around to smack your sore ass again and you groaned, your walls fluttering around his cock at the feeling. He laughed again, watching with amusement as you began to writhe in his lap, your tits bouncing with every thrust. 

“If you’re really sorry…” 

“I am!” You reached up to touch his handsome face, hoping that your teary eyes and heartbroken expression would show him just how sorry you really were. “Please, Daddy. Can I come? Please?” 

“You beg so sweet, baby.” Roman cooed, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “I just can’t say no to you. Go ahead and come for me.” 

Your orgasm hit you hard, the pleasure so good it left you breathless. You could feel your pussy spasm and convulse, milking the Tribal Chief’s cock as he continued to pound into you. You could hardly contain the sounds coming from your mouth: breathy moans and high-pitched whimpers that you would normally be embarrassed about. You were so far gone that you hardly noticed the little string of drool that had fallen from your open mouth, your vision blurry with tears as you struggled to focus on Roman. 

“Shit, baby.” Roman’s voice sounded breathless, his grip against you tightening. “You look so pretty when you come. Such a good girl for me.” 

You screwed your eyes shut as Roman continued to drill into you, his pace somehow quickening as he chased his own release. You could feel the overstimulation now, your body still trembling in the Tribal Chief’s arms. 

“Please…” Your voice was wrecked. “Daddy…”

“Almost there, pretty girl,” Roman cooed, pressing another kiss to your sternum. “You can give me another one, can’t you?” 

You shook your head, beginning to cry again. 

“Daddy, no. Please, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s tone left no room for argument and when you met his eyes again they were dark. “You can and you will. I can feel this slutty hole clenching around me. I know you want to.” 

He wasn’t lying. His incessant pounding against your g-spot had a new burn unfurling inside you, the Tribal Chief’s perfect cock somehow able to wring every ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body. You gripped his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into him so hard that you knew it would break skin. 

Roman shifted his hips and you screamed at the feeling, his cock now aiming for your cervix with every thrust. You couldn’t remember the last time he was this deep, his pace punishing as he held you close. A new feeling was beginning to build inside you. It was unfamiliar, the overstimulation from your previous orgasm causing a new discomfort to prick at something deep inside you. You felt a small cramp, similar to a period cramp, but the new feeling didn’t stop. It didn’t feel like any orgasm. It felt like something else, something far more intense. 

You struggled in Roman’s arms, your skin suddenly feverish. You’d never felt like this before. 

“Daddy!” You gasped, trying to shift in his hold to change the angle. The feeling was too new, almost as excruciating as it was pleasurable. But Roman didn’t stop, his hands so tight against you that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. 

“Just let go, sweetheart.” Roman murmured, his hips stuttering against you - the sign that he was close. “Just let go.” 

You obeyed. 

With a loud cry, you squirted all over Roman’s dick, the spray coating his stomach and dripping down onto the floor below. Roman’s eyes widened at the sight, the vice grip your pussy had on his cock sending him spiralling towards his own release. 

You felt a new warmth between your legs when he finally finished, his strong arms keeping you still as he continued to pump his load into you. You couldn’t help but whimper at the feeling, the overstimulation causing more tears to spill from your eyes. Still, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs further, eager to take everything he had to give you. 

He finally stilled, looking up at you in wonder. “Sweetheart,” His voice was low, his hand reaching up to trace your wet lips. “How long have you been hiding that from me?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, suddenly embarrassed. 

“No, no,” Roman cooed, cradling your jaw with his large hand. “You did so good, baby. Such a good girl for me.” 

You couldn’t help but lean further into his touch, allowing him to wipe some of the tears from your cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your body still trembling in his lap. “I’m sorry I…” 

“Shhh,” Roman was quick to shush you, pressing sweet kisses to your neck. “I forgive you, sweetheart. And you showed me you were sorry. I know you’re my good girl. Even if you keep little secrets like this from me.” 

His tone was mischievous, his other hand reached down to touch the wetness on his stomach. You shifted in Roman’s arms, letting out a small whine at the feeling of him still inside you. The overstimulation had tears in your eyes again. 

“Daddy, please,” you begged, still trying to twist out of his hold. “I need-”

“Hush, baby.” Roman interrupted, his hands suddenly tight against you again. “Your Daddy knows what you need.” 

You realized with horror that he wasn’t pulling out, his cock somehow twitching back to life inside you. Roman’s smile turned wicked and your heart dropped at the sight. 

“I think you can give me one more.” 

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection

[greengoblinswifey]

You need Cody right after a match.

a/n— My first Cody blurb, I need him so bad, had to whip this up rq.

Your boyfriend Cody, spent the entire day rehearsing his match and promos. You stood at ringside, watching on as his muscles flexed each time he moved. He was so fucking hot, and you couldn’t help but admire him. You needed him, but was in his element, you couldn’t distract him.

By the time Raw had began airing, he was out cutting a promo, the fans just as wild as you. Except, something else was wild for him. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you watched him pace in the ring, his neck tattoo you craved to lick on full display.

When the bell rang, he immediately got the upper hand, dishing out punishment on his opponent. Punishment you craved for your pussy. Maybe it was your ovulation—whatever it was, it had you feeling like you’d die without his dick inside you.

Cody won the match and the referee held his arm up in victory. Your core throbbed in anticipation as he made his way to the back, his steps deliberate. As soon as the door to the room opened, you pounced on him, your lips all over his face and lips.

“Baby, what’s gotten into you? I’m all sweaty,” Cody muttered into your kisses.

“I don’t care, I need you. Sweat and all, let it drip all over me, I don’t care, just fuck me. Please,” you pleaded.

His eyes darkened at your words, he could practically smell you dripping for him. “So fucking desperate for me, I’ll give you what you want.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

Cody had you bent over a chair, his gear ripped off by you and his hard cock buried inside you. Your panties were ripped and he slammed into you from behind, his cock stretching you out. You hoped the distant cheering from the fans masked your loud moans as he absolutely ravished you.

“This is what you wanted? Huh? To get fucked like a slut?”

You nodded frantically, your pussy clenching tightly around his cock as he angled into you even deeper. If it wasn’t for his grip on your curls, you would’ve toppled over.

He slapped your ass and you cried out. “Y-yes sir! This is what I wanted.”

You knew he was smirking behind you and in your last act of boldness, you pushed back against him, fucking yourself on his cock.

“That’s a good girl. You should see how your pussy’s just creaming on my dick.”

His words sent a ripple through you and your body convulsed, an intense orgasm hitting you like a truck.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmured, but he wasn’t finished with you.

He lifted and carried you to the couch in the corner of the room. A cry left your lips as he sank into your pussy once again, immediately finding your sweet spot. You drooled as he hovered over you—Cody was a greek god, one you would be happy to worship every single day. The sweat made his muscles glisten and he wrapped a large hand around your neck, making your pussy twitch in excitement.

Your body jolted as he slammed into your pussy and his grip around your neck tightened. “You feel so fucking good. So tight, so wet, fucking perfect for me.

You held his dark gaze, wrapped your arms around his neck and grinding against him, meeting his thrusts. His sweat dripping all over you made you moan and you reached up, licking the tattoo on his neck.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he said, darkly.

One of his hands pressed against your abdomen, making you moan so loud, you knew anyone passing by would hear. “Feel how deep I am inside you? Only my cock can get that far. I fucking own you.”

“You own me,” you echoed, your nails now digging into his back.

“Cum on my cock, cum with me.”

With a loud cry, you squirted on his cock, soaking both him and the couch as he continued to pound into your aching pussy.

“Fucking hell, what a good girl just squirting for me like that.”

His orgasm followed immediately after and he pushed deep inside you, his cum filling your ovulating womb to the brim.

He leaned down and whispered in your ear, his thrusts slower and deeper. “I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant.”

[eringobragh420]

➔ Pairing — CM Punk ‪‪♡‬ f!Reader ➔ Summary — Punk and Paul Heyman’s daughter have a special relationship. 1 | 2 ➔ Word Count — 4.1k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Age gap (she is twenty-something, he’s forty-something), Daddy kink, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, toxic-ISH relationship, cum 18+ ➔ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST

Punk feigned interest in whatever the hell Heyman was going on about, striding next to the older man across the tarmac, bound for Paul’s private jet. He was far more concerned with any other passengers who might be accompanying them to the next city, specifically Paul’s twenty-something-year-old daughter. Punk could almost feel her soft, supple, pliable body under his coarse, tattooed hands, could almost smell her sweet, hardly ridden (compared to him, and most of the women he’d slept with) pussy, almost taste that honeyed flavor on the tip of his tongue. Licking his lips, unconsciously searching for that flavor, he glanced at Paul and nodded, despite still having no idea what the man was talking about. Paul, the kind, thoughtful father had no idea the filthy things Punk had done to his only daughter and the even dirtier things he still planned on doing.

Punk allowed Paul to climb the stairs into the jet first so he could adjust the growing lump in his thin, black joggers, which would be rather noticeable very soon if he didn’t do something about it now. After modifying the position of his hardening cock, he placed his duffel bag in front of his hips just in case, and boarded the plane. He smelled her signature perfume immediately, sucking it through his nose, the sexy scent going straight to his dick, causing a twitch, and a slight shiver throughout his spine. He’d suspected she’d be here, given her tendency to travel everywhere with her father, but actually laying eyes on her still promoted a thrill surging in his veins. Especially with close proximity to the young woman’s father, who also happened to be one of his closest confidants. 

Fighting a smirk, Punk plopped into one of about half a dozen empty seats, sighing, combing his fingers through his longish hair. He glanced sideways at the heir to the Heyman empire, gaze landing on her Nike sneakers, climbing to her toned legs and spandex shorts, bare stomach, sports bra that matched the shorts, and a large button-up, long sleeve shirt covering her arms. Punk really didn’t understand the fashion choices of the current times, but he owed the person who invented leggings and their matching shorts and bras a sincere thank you. Her legs were bent, calves to her thighs, shoes on the seat, and she held her phone between her legs and her breasts, thumbs tapping away as she texted. She felt his gaze on her, however, and she turned to look at him, rolling her eyes after catching him staring, sinking further down in her seat. Punk chuckled, shaking his head, and as his eyes passed over Paul, who glanced at the girl before sitting in a chair that faced the opposite direction of Punk’s, Paul whispered an apology for his bratty daughter. Punk’s nostrils flared as he battled a full blown grin, swatting his hand一no big deal, sir. I promise I’ll teach her some manners.

The jet took off without a hitch, and the three of them settled into their typical plane activities, which mostly consisted of scrolling on their phones or, in Paul’s case, going through physical paperwork concerning this contract or that, this client or that. It didn’t matter what he was reading, just that he was. Heyman was famous for napping following the completion of one or two pages, and with the addition of the blandness of a nearly two hour flight? It was only a matter of time before Paul was snoring away.

Punk could be a patient man, but when his eyes flickered up from his phone to check on Paul’s status, finding him still awake, though his eyes were definitely becoming heavier, he switched his gaze to the girl seated in the back of the jet. Her feet were on the floor now, one shining leg crossed over the other, and Punk watched as she sat up, removing the button-up shirt. Her manicured nails crept along her full, gravity-defying breasts, slipping under the elastic band of the sports bra, and she smirked, winking, just before lifting the garment. Punk placed an elbow on the armrest, hand covering his smirking mouth, but if anyone who knew him looked closely enough, they’d realize his eyes were no longer an approachable green but a murky, predatory grey. Her tits were perfect, Punk had never seen a more picturesque set, and he was back to having to adjust himself, this time simply pulling the bottom of the hoodie he wore over his burgeoning bulge. She replaced the bra, giggling softly, tip of her finger between her teeth, and Punk’s chest ached. 

He’d never expected to feel anything more for her than a need to fuck her in every position possible, but he’d be damned if he didn’t miss the girl when she wasn’t around. That snicker, when she really got going, was akin to a symphony, while her sultry voice ripped a moan from him every time she whispered words he thought she shouldn’t know directly into his ear before nibbling on the lobe and licking the shell. She fit flawlessly under his arm on the off-chance they spent their time cuddling instead of fucking, because somehow, this girl had him wanting to snuggle. And when he inevitably woke up alone in the morning, he swapped his pillow for the one she’d been using���that goddamn scent of hers smoothly lulling him back to sleep before he had a chance to wallow in self pity or wonder if she was headed to some other man’s house after she left him and whether or not he wanted to strangle that man with his bare hands.

Paul was finally asleep, laid back in his seat, headphones on at this point. Punk stood, headed toward the back of the jet as if bound for the bathroom. He made a beeline for the pretty young thing who’d just flashed him, standing tall behind her seat while his unrefined hands slid across her shoulders. He leaned forward, his nose following the aroma of her familiar shampoo, hands gliding further south until he was clutching her breasts. Just like her body fit into his side like a universe-made puzzle piece, her tits did the same in his hands as if they, too, had been made for each other, and as he squeezed and groped, lifted and bounced, he pressed a stubbled kiss to her forehead when she leaned back to gaze adoringly up at him. Her teeth clamped on her soft bottom lip, and he grinned when her back arched off the seat. He didn’t ever remember experiencing a woman so damn responsive to him一the patience he had now had been a learned process一her hands gentle but insistent on his as he continued entertaining himself with her breasts. 

His hand slid out from under hers, scraping across a firm nipple, fingers trailing up the side of her throat until his thumb brushed her lips. Her tongue slithered along the digit, a barely audible mewl escaping her parted lips, but he sought something different. He watched her bright, glittering eyes open as he applied pressure on her bottom row of teeth, reveling in the incredible amount of trust she had in him, and she allowed him to lower her jaw. He nodded, and he had no idea how or when they’d achieved the same level of depravity, but she needed no further instruction or encouragement to stick her pretty pink tongue out, those sparkling eyes round and clearly feigning innocence. Punk leaned closer, one hand on her cheek, the other still on her breast, and he glanced up to be sure Paul hadn’t moved, finding him in the exact same position. Returning his attention to Paul’s daughter, he spit onto her awaiting tongue, watching as it slid down the already slick muscle toward her esophagus. 

“Swallow,” he whispered, thin lips grazing her forehead once more. Hand clutching his wrist, the other still atop his on her breast, she closed her mouth and obeyed, Punk gliding his hand down the side of her throat so his fingers could feel her actually swallowing what he’d given her. “I missed you,” he murmured, kissing her nose, and he tried to ignore the swelling in his chest, instead focusing his attention on the straining in his joggers, as she grinned, tight body writhing under the weight of his praise and attention. 

“I missed you, Daddy,” she faintly replied.

Punk took a deep breath through his nose, cocking his head disapprovingly. “You’re gonna call me that when he’s一” His hips ground against the back of the seat, seeking any and all friction. He hadn’t planned on doing anything during the flight … 

“Mhmmm,” she purred, nodding, and Punk would be goddamned if he didn’t absolutely fucking adore her honesty and raw enthusiasm and the fact that, not only did she not worry about any punishment he might bestow upon her, sometimes she begged for it.

“That’s not what good girls do,” Punk intimately informed her. She shook her head this time, eyes utterly wicked and inviting and so fucking stunning, never afraid to maintain eye contact for long periods of time. And if there was one thing Punk loved, it was eye contact一there he could see her obedience, and her want, and the mischief, and even the naivety of a young woman who had yet to really be exposed to the harsh realities of the world. Which was difficult when you were a millionaire and had absolutely no reason to entrench yourself in the atrocities of the real world. If anything, Punk wanted to keep her sheltered, maintain her innocence, as it were. Let him be the most nefarious thing she ever came in contact with. “But you don’t wanna be a good girl,” he went on. 

Another shake of her head. His lips drifted to hers, barely brushing them, and his eyes fluttered as her hand snaked to the back of his head, carding her fingers through his hair along the way. And son of a bitch did she fucking own him when she did that一her nails scraping along his scalp, gently tugging at his hair一and he would make sure she never, ever discovered the power she held over him in that respect. She tilted her chin, raising herself up in her chair, but Punk eluded the kiss she so desperately sought. 

“You wanna be Daddy’s bad girl tonight, don’t you?” Punk breathed. Her nod this time was frantic. “Take your shorts off. Because if you’re Daddy’s bad girl, then you shouldn’t be wearing any panties, right?”

She lifted her hips, nimbly removing her shorts, slipping them past her sneakers without one snag, and she spread her thighs as far as she was able. Punk peeked over her shoulder, sighing, finding no panties, just smooth lips, which also easily separated, and he could then see her little clit poking out, begging to be licked. He suddenly felt his age, his heart pounding at an almost painful rate, but he quickly recovered, taking a deep breath and strolling around the seat. Paul hadn’t moved, and Punk descended to his knees in front of the wiseman’s daughter. Her grin was contagious as Punk gripped her hips and yanked them closer to the edge of the seat so he could then spread her legs to his heart’s desire, which usually meant as far as she could physically handle. The saccharine scent of her pussy slapped him in the face, and his hand shot down to clutch his cock一he hadn’t prematurely cum since high school and he wasn’t about to go back down that road. She was wet一from the fondling? From the spit? From calling him Daddy?一perfect一because every fucking thing about her was perfect一cunt simply weeping, and he glanced up, finding her pupils blown, jaw dropped, and her own hands were now cupping her breasts. 

“Aww, is this all for Daddy, princess?” Punk whispered, hand abandoning a leg so he could slip the tip of his index finger down her already spread folds, sliding along her swollen clit.

She nodded, sneakers in the air—Punk had a vision of Paul turning around, able to see only the Nikes above all the other seats, and it shouldn’t have made him squeeze his dick harder, but fuck all if it didn’t. “My wet pussy is always for Daddy,” she purred softly.

Punk shook his head. “Slut,” he hissed, diving face first into the cunt he literally dreamed about, even while lying next to her following a hard fucking.

She gasped, Punk’s eyes and brows rising instantly as he prepared to reprimand her for being too loud, but her hand slapped over her mouth, quickly followed by her other hand when Punk flattened his tongue and licked from her tight hole to the top of her clit. He battled with the volume of the groan which bubbled unknowingly from his chest because somehow this pussy tasted better every single time he put his mouth on it—more luscious, wetter, that much more addictive. Sucking on the soft nub, he scraped his teeth along the bundle of nerves, and her lithe body twisted not unlike a pretzel, sneaker sole landing hard against the wall beside the oval window. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Punk declared, and as he pulled away from her flooded pussy, a thin, clear string of her essence bridged the gap between his salt-and-pepper beard and her rosy clit. This had to be heaven, he thought, passing his finger through the middle of the bridge, gathering the string, before sucking the digit into his mouth. She whined, manicured nails sliding down her belly, bound for the apex of her thighs, and Punk snatched her wrist before she arrived at her destination. “You gotta be quiet, princess,” he reminded her, hardly audible, as he gradually came to his feet, positioning her hands on the backs of her knees. He glanced over his shoulder, at the same time pulling his straining cock out of his briefs and pants. Paul hadn’t moved, and maybe Punk even heard him snoring. Turning his attention back to Paul’s precious little star shine, his knees were pressed against the edge of her seat, her legs still spread indecently, which she couldn’t close now if she wanted to due to his proximity and sheer size compared to her, and her big, beautiful eyes were laser focused on his leaking cock that was mere inches from her face.

“Please, Daddy?” she whispered, licking her lips eagerly. 

“Listen,” Punk said, finger lifting her chin until her eyes reluctantly left his dick to give her attention to his mouth. “You have to be quiet. No choking, no gagging …” She pouted, the girl fucking pouted, and Punk smirked, shaking his head. Lord have mercy on his soul, but she had him finished. “Just lick it—” He pressed the wet head of his cock to her lips, and her tongue promptly slinked out of her scorching mouth, lapping up the precum from her skin and his. Punk let out a breath, one hand clamped on the seat, the other finding its way to the side of her face, thumb on her forehead, her tongue exploring as far along his cock as she was able. “—and suck it real fucking quiet, you hear me?”

She nodded, opening her lips around the head, and Punk pressed forward, somehow forbidding himself from shoving his dick directly into her throat. Her cheeks sunk as she applied just the softest pressure, crystal eyes locked on Punk’s face, because as much as she loved him in her mouth, she loved watching his reaction, and that did something to him all on its own. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” Punk sighed, surprised at the restraint in his own voice. Her tongue undulated against his cock, still gently sucking, and he started to pump. Only an inch or two, not enough to kiss the back of her throat no matter how much he wanted to. He smelled her sugary pussy on the air, and made a note in the back of his mind to try and find something to mask it after he was finished with Miss Heyman. “Daddy’s sweet girl.” She smiled around him, sucking just a little harder, though staying perfectly silent, hands still holding her legs open. He’d have to remember this position as one to use when he didn’t want her touching herself. “You wanna be bad, but you can’t help being Daddy’s good girl, can you?” Her eyes fluttered, and he felt a warm rush of air from her nose over his wet cock, and he then stole his dick from her mouth with a pop, and as much as he wanted to blame her for the lewd music, he hadn’t warned her he’d be pulling out while she was in the process of sucking. 

“Daddy,” she whined, pushing out her bottom lip, and Punk nearly fell to his knees so he could worship at the altar of her. 

“Spoiled little slut,” Punk said, backing up. She closed her legs and sat up in the chair, glaring at him because of the pet name, but also awaiting further direction. He nodded toward  a small couch on the other side of the cabin, and she understood almost immediately, standing, naked from the waist down, save for curiously sexy sneakers and the sports bra. She was also aware of their position, that there were three people in the cabin of this jet, so she laid across the couch on her back, head facing the front seats. Someone needed to keep an eye on Paul, and she certainly wanted nothing to do with this task. Punk, on the other hand, didn’t mind at all, and maybe it turned him on a little, and, as Paul’s daughter watched him, body squirming as she waited impatiently for him, wicked smirk on her lips, maybe it wasn’t such a secret. 

“Daddy, please,” she breathed, lifting the sports bra to entice him to hurry the fuck up, and Punk dropped his head back, laughing silently. Yep, she was gonna be the death of him. And he was old, so he probably wasn’t long for this world. 

“What?” Punk teased, glancing at Paul as he stroked his cock, which was now coated in his precum and her spit. He looked back at the desperate girl writhing about on the couch, his eyes darkening as he closed the space between them. 

“I need you inside me,” she murmured. “It’s been so long.”

Three days. It had been three days since he’d had her on her hands and knees on his bed, hands leaving bruises on her hips that he could easily see now, buried balls deep in the tightest pussy he’d ever had the pleasure of fucking.

He climbed onto the couch on his knees, between her open thighs, and he unzipped his hoodie, dropping it on the floor beside them. She mouthed fuck as he revealed one of his merch shirts, sleeves cut out, leaving holes big enough to show about half of his tattooed chest. She slipped her fingers inside those holes, fisting the shirt, and she yanked him down to her. Punk chuckled, she smiled as she bit her lip, but they were both short-lived when Punk’s cock slipped along her slick folds, and they both shared a gasp. 

“God, this fucking pussy,” Punk gushed into her ear, fondling a breast, and she turned her head to allow him better access. He sucked at her collar bone, biting down like a feral dog, and her hips lifted, bringing the head of his cock that much closer to her pulsing hole. “And you smell so goddamn good,” he continued, not even realizing he was speaking anymore, still rutting against her. “Christ, it has been too long.”

She giggled, a whimsical melody not unlike wind chimes, and she cupped his face, urging him to look at her. Then she did it—first she sifted one hand through one side of his hair, then the other, pure eyes locked on his sinful ones as she wrapped a leg around his waist. Punk was now under her spell. “You’re so obsessed with me, you dirty old man,” she muttered against his lips.

And the spell was broken.

Punk sat up, tilting his head, eyes slits, nostrils flared. Without warning, his hand shot up to clutch her throat, applying enough pressure to let her know he wasn’t fucking around, if the wild eyes and snarl weren’t enough. “I didn’t hear you,” he growled. “Must be my old man ears. What did you say?” She gripped his wrist with both hands. 

“I said—” she forced out, still swiveling her hips into his, her pussy desperately seeking his cock. She met his eyes defiantly. “—you’re so obsessed with me, you dirty … old … man …” He was offended by the old man, though she spoke only the truth. 

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, but you better fucking squash it and apologize … now,” Punk rasped. 

“Or what?” the girl challenged. 

“Or I’ll take you into the bathroom right fucking now and wash your pretty mouth out with soap,” Punk promised. “And you definitely won’t be getting this old man cock.” She wasn’t as frightened by the prospect of soap in her mouth as she was the possibility of not getting fucked, and there couldn’t possibly be two people better suited for each other than CM Punk and Paul Heyman’s daughter, he thought. “So which is it?” he pushed. “The soap and no dick? Or—” 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she breathed. “I just like that you’re obsessed with me …” 

“And the old man?” Punk seethed.

She shrugged, still gripping his forearm as he still clutched her throat. “I like that, too,” she admitted.

Punk searched her face for a moment before crushing his lips to hers, hands grabbing at her legs, shoving them apart, Nikes flopping around, and then he rubbed the fleshy head of his cock along her clit before plunging inside her. He was able to get a hand over her mouth just as she was about to cry out. Her eyes squeezed shut, Punk pummeling her pussy, and she tried to push him away with hands on his belly as he rammed her cervix at the same time as her legs pulled him impossibly closer and somehow deeper. 

“I am obsessed with you,” Punk rumbled into her ear, using his hand over her mouth to shove her face to the side. The air was so thick it was difficult to breathe, dripping with the aroma of their intimate union. “I watch you when you don’t even know I’m there …” Her legs tightened around him, the hands on his belly now fisted in his shirt, also tugging him closer. “You like that?” he asked. She nodded, rolling her hips into his, meeting each of his slow thrusts. “You like that I have pictures on my phone of you that you don’t even know about?” She moaned into his hand, her hands releasing his shirt so she could clutch his shoulders. “And I jerk off to them every single fucking day we’re not together?”

She came apart then, entire body shuddering, cunt clamping around his cock, milking it like it always did. He pounded faster into her, harder, one hand remaining over her mouth while the other groped a breast. 

“Fuck, you dirty slut,” Punk panted. “I’m gonna cum inside this pussy.” Her back bowed, her nod frantic. “Daddy knows that’s what you want, isn’t it?” Another desperate, silent affirmation. 

A few more pumps into her and a glance in Paul’s direction to find he’d changed positions, but was still asleep, and he exploded within her, lips pulling back from his teeth as his hips stuttered. He looked down at where their bodies were joined together, his cock covered in her cum, glistening in the harsh overhead lights, and he thought, no, this was heaven. Pulling out, he couldn’t help but finger her clit poking out between her spread folds, and she jumped, squeaking. When he was sure his legs could handle it, he stood and grabbed her shorts, helping her to move them past her shoes as she languidly pulled them on. 

“These are gonna be a mess in a few minutes,” Punk warned, “but I want my cum as close to your pussy as possible for as long as possible.”

She breathed an exhausted laugh, pulling her bra down over her breasts. “That’s exactly what I wanted,” she replied. “It’s also why I brought the big shirt.” Punk tucked himself away and sat on the couch, her sneakers in his lap. “So … when can we talk about how you’re basically stalking me?” she grinned.

[tribalmajesty05]

Title: The Kiss Hunt

Roman Reigns x Reader

****

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

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

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

Which meant he had to go on the hunt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

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

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

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

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

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

Jey laughed. “Whipped.”

Roman ignored them.

He checked catering.

Nothing.

The women’s locker room?

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

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

“Somewhere near the production area, I think.”

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

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

“There you are.”

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

You blinked. “Uh… hey?”

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

And for him, it did.

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

He arched a brow. “You know.”

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

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

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

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

He huffed. “I swear to God—”

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

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

“WOOOO! GET IT, TRIBAL CHIEF!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed dramatically. “I tolerate it.”

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

Your face heated instantly.

The guys lost it.

“OH, HELL NO—”

“TOO MUCH INFO, MAN—”

“DAMN, UCE—”

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

Rhea just nodded in approval. “Respect.”

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

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

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

You crossed your arms. “Not happening.”

Roman smirked. “Damn right.”

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

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

You just shrugged, smiling to yourself. Because honestly?

You wouldn’t change a thing.

[damiansgoodgirll]

Can I get some rough smurt with damian priest PLEASEE 🙏🙏🙏

okay i don’t usually do rough smut because personally i don’t feel like i’m good at writing them as i don’t read much of them but i made an exception for this request

damian priest x reader

‼️rough damian, dom!damian, sub!reader, slapping (?), praise and degradation, everything that regards smut basically, overstimulation, subspace, aftercare!!! + i’m not good at writing these type of requests so i hope you enjoy it‼️

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

faster

damian was known for many things.

for being an excellent wrestler, for being the new world heavyweight champion, for being a tattoo lover and for being an important member of the judgment day. what people didn’t know was that he was also known for being the greatest lover you ever had. he always took you on romantic dates, he never missed an important occurrence like your anniversary, he always brought you gifts home and he always prioritised you.

and what people also didn’t know is that the sweet and kind facade of his lover personality turned into a starving animal anytime he got you naked under his touch.

so maybe your neighbours would hear all the pornographic sounds you were making but you didn’t care.

the way he had you ass up in the air, thrusting in and out of you, making the bed creak against the wall was enough to make you come and scream damian’s name.

“you came already?” he asked, smirking seeing how easily he could break you “i’m not done with you hermosa…turn around” and you did as he told you.

not to mention that he already made you cum twice just with his experienced fingers.

he smiled seeing your teary face. he smiled even more when he saw the remaining drops of his cum near your lips and nose. he knew you and your body so well.

“gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked and you simply nodded “ i asked you a question so i expect a proper answer” he said before his strong hand collided with your ass, making you slightly jump.

“y-yes sir” you whispered, your ass burning for the sensation.

“good girl, don’t make me slap you again…”

“okay sir” he seemed satisfied with your answer so he continued his dangerous game with you.

he thrusted in you in full force, making you clench around his dick.

“fuck…” he groaned “don’t do that or i’ll punish you…”

“o-okay sir…”

he loved every second of it.

one of his strong hands went to wrap around your neck, adding a little bit of the pressure he knew you loved.

in result of his action, you clenched again around him “what did i say?”

“fuck…sorry sir…”

“you better behave or i won’t let you cum again…” he groaned.

“no no please…i’ll behave…” you cried out.

“you better, don’t come until i say so…” he whispered into your ear making you shiver.

“okay sir…” you moaned as he started moving inside of you. he brought one of your leg over his muscular shoulder. that position hitting spot inside of you that made you see stars “oh fuck papi…”

“you like that?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“yes sir, please…so good” he smiled seeing how power he had over you.

he kept praising you, telling you how good you were for him and the familiar feeling you loved so much started to build up.

“faster…” you moaned.

usually damian would have done the opposite of what you asked, showing you who was in control but seeing your face covered in cum and tears made him soften a little so he allowed you to be in charge for that split of second.

“don’t cum before i say so” he reminded you, not sure you understood his words.

“dam…” he slapped your ass “fuck, sir…”

“that’s good” he smiled.

“please…” you begged, not sure what you were begging for. everything was too much, the pleasure and the pain, you loved every second of it “please…please…”

“please what uh? use your words” his hand put a little more pressure on your neck while he kept moving inside of you.

“please i -…” words caught in your throat.

you couldn’t focus anymore. your body was on fire, ready to explode, you were about to cum but at the same time you didn’t want to disappoint damian as he told you to wait for him.

“i said use your words” he remarked, going faster as you asked him to do.

“i can’t please…let me come please sir…” tears streaming down your face, mascara mixing with the remaining cum from before, a beautiful sight for damian to see.

“hold it” he simply said.

“no no no…i can’t i can’t…” the way your body was shaking under damian’s touch made him realise that you were on the edge so he slowed his movements just to play with you a little.

you slowly opened your teary eyes just to meet with his beautiful ones.

“what color are you on pretty girl? do you want me to stop?” he checked in with you, making sure to never push you too far. he enjoyed it as long as you were enjoying it too and hurting you wasn’t on his list.

“no no, please…don’t stop…i’m good” you whispered making him smile.

the hand that was before on your neck, now gently moved some of your sweaty hair away from your face.

“color?” he asked again.

“so fucking green…please, i just need to come sir” you moaned once he reprised his speed.

“my little slut wants to come uh?” he smirked at you, seeing how quickly you nodded your head “you want to come on my dick so bad that it’s the only thought you had in that little brain of yours uh?” and once again, you nodded.

“please sir…”

“then come on my dick, now” he said with a stern voice. his dick hitting that spot again and again made you sink your nails into damian’s back, probably leaving some marks. the pleasure you were feeling was something you’ve never experienced before. you were so lost in your mind that you didn’t feel damian coming right inside of you. still high on the pleasure, you kept clenching around his shaft making him shake from pleasure too.

you slowly opened your eyes when you felt damian’s lips on your neck, gently kissing the bruises he left on you.

he knew you were still high on your pleasure when he saw your look. he smiled seeing you so peaceful, knowing that he’s the reason you feel at ease right now.

“come back to me pretty girl…” he whispered against your ear “come back baby”

it took you a few minutes to realise what was going on around you, only when you saw damian laying next to you, your brain connected “oh shit…” you whispered.

“are you alright? was it too much?” he always asked you if you were okay, especially right after a rough session like that. it wasn’t always like that with damian, some nights were more intimate, some weren’t. some nights he would take his time just to pleasure you, some nights he would let you be in charge and some other nights he would be the one in charge. some other nights he would treat you like his personal slut just for him to use but he knew you wouldn’t do it if you didn’t have a 100% trust in him and he felt so grateful because you put all of your trust in him.

“i’m okay…just a little tired” you smiled.

“let me get you a towel, and something to drink” he smiled leaving for just a few minutes. he came back with a clean towel in hands, a glass of water and some of your favourite biscuits “close your eyes for me…let me remove my work of art” he joked making you chuckle.

he carefully cleaned your face, removing the remaining cum and tears present on your face. he then proceeded to clean between your thighs, moving slowly between your folds “i know i’ll be quick, i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable” he reassured you when he saw you closing your legs “and all done…” he smiled, kissing your thighs and going up from chest to neck.

“thanks…” you whispered.

“is there anything that hurts? i know i’ve been too hard on you…” he asked a little concerned.

“i’m perfectly fine…just tired and probably i won’t be able to walk for a day or two” you laughed “but i’m okay, i promise, i enjoyed it a lot”

he slowly turned your face to face him, his hand gently caressing your cheek “i love you y/n, so much, thank you for trusting me with this, with your body and soul…i’m so lucky to have you in my life, never forget that”

“i know…” you smiled at his kind words, reminder that probably was for him instead of you, just to remind him that no matter how many times he called you a slut in bed, no matter how many times he degraded you, he would always love you and cherish you with every inch of his heart.

[usoinked]

🖤🥀In Your Bed or Mine (Stalker! Jey Uso X Black Reader)🥀🖤

CW: Toxic…as fuck, Stalking, Sexual Tension, Cheating, Manipulation, Crying (from pleasure duh), 18+ MDNI, Creampie, Pregnancy, Dirty Talk, Squirting, Choking, Paranoia, Mirrors (ifykyk)

Words: 5.4k+

“You look so beautiful when you sleepin’ babygirl,” he muttered softly, his voice a low rasp that sent a shiver down your spine. The sudden sensation of a rough hand gliding across your throat jolted you awake, a jolt of fear and panic. Before you could react, that same hand tightened, and the world seemed to tilt as your air became thin, suffocating you. Your heart raced, each breath becoming more desperate, as your hands shot up to claw at the hand that choked you. But then—nothing.

Your throat was free. Your breaths came in shallow, jagged gasps, and your body was drenched in a cold sweat. You wiped your forehead, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. But even as you opened your eyes, the sense of terror lingered, a visceral reminder of the haunting presence that had been plaguing you since the day you walked away from Jey.

It had been months since you ended things with Jey. Months since you found him lying in bed with another woman, her body sprawled over his, while he slept peacefully with no regard for the years you had spent building a life together. The betrayal had been a gut punch, a dagger to the heart. You had driven hours to surprise him, to bring him flowers, to be the loving fiancée that you thought he still wanted. But instead, you found yourself holding those same flowers as you quietly walked out of his hotel room, your heart shattered and your dignity in tatters.

Four years. An engagement. Talks of a future together—a child, maybe. All of it destroyed in an instant, torn apart by his fleeting need for another woman. You hoped it had been worth it for him. The moment you left his hotel, you made sure to block him on everything. His number. His Instagram. His CashApp. All of it—gone.

But of course, Jey wasn’t ready to let go. His attempts to contact you were relentless, pathetic even. He hit up his twin brother Jimmy, Trin, Solo, and even Jacob, but none of them were willing to tell him anything about where you were. Unbeknownst to him, you’d already briefed Trin and Jon, making sure they knew to keep your whereabouts a secret.

Jacob, however, wasn’t so subtle. When Jey tried to confront him, Jacob laid it on him. “Ayo, man, you crazy as hell. Why the fuck you have another girl in your bed while you got a fiancée?” Jacob’s voice was incredulous, his words biting. “I knew you was dumb, but damn, ian know you was stupid.”

Jey had sat there, stunned before smacking his teeth, his gold grill flashing as he tried to process the reality of his betrayal. He took a swig of whiskey, letting the alcohol burn his throat. But it didn’t matter. The real torment was in his head. His mind was consumed by thoughts of you—what you were doing, who you were with, how his pussy was doing without him. It was sick. Demented. He was spiraling, unable to shake the image of you leaving him, the reality of not being with you anymore.

It didn’t take long for Jey’s desperation to manifest in a series of fake profiles, each one trying to reach you. You knew it was him—the relentless fake pages, the constant barrage of messages. Over 99+ requests from different accounts, each one begging for your forgiveness. And no matter how many times you blocked him, it seemed like he just kept coming back.

Jey’s obsession wasn’t just a matter of texts and fake profiles. No, it went deeper than that. Much deeper. It started subtly at first. You would be at work, minding your own business, trying to focus on the tasks at hand, when you’d feel that strange sensation that someone was watching you. It happened every now and then, a fleeting moment of discomfort, but you would brush it off—until the flowers started showing up.

It wasn’t like before. This time, it was different. Too different. When you’d leave work late, there they would be—another bouquet, tucked carefully into the corner of your car door, waiting for you. The same note: “Thinking of you, beautiful.” You’d stare at the flowers, confused, wondering how the hell he managed to get to you like this. Of course he knew where you worked but you didn’t think he’d be crazy enough to start sending gifts to your job even after you broke things off so you pushed that thought to the back of your mind. But the more you pushed it back, the more you felt like someone was lurking, like he was always there, waiting.

You first realized it wasn’t just random when you saw a familiar figure standing across the street from your office one afternoon, just outside the window. The figure was partially hidden in the shadow of a tree, but the leather jacket, the signature gold grill flashing in the dim light—you knew it was him. Jey. He wasn’t even trying to hide anymore.

Over the next few weeks, things only escalated. It wasn’t just the gifts or the flowers anymore, Jey was showing up everywhere. You started noticing the subtle signs: the unfamiliar car parked across the street from your house at odd hours, the same car that you would see idling in the lot near your job. He’d been watching you from afar, tracking your every move. But it wasn’t just in public spaces. Jey’s presence followed you home.

You froze, your stomach sinking as you noticed an unmarked car across the street. Your heart raced, your hands trembling as you quickly texted Trin, the panic flooding your fingers as you typed in haste.

You: Trin… I think he’s here. I saw him outside the office earlier and there’s an unmarked car across the street. I don’t know what to do.

You waited anxiously, feeling that tight knot in your stomach as the seconds dragged on. Trin’s reply came through, almost instantly.

Trin: Girl, you need to call the cops. For real. You shouldn’t be dealing with this alone. I got you, I’m coming over now, don’t open the door for nobody.

Her response was comforting in a way, but the fear still gnawed at you. The fact that Jey had shown up so openly, and at your job? It made everything seem even worse. The way he was slowly asserting control over your life was suffocating.

But it wasn’t just Trin trying to help you. Jey’s actions were beginning to affect everyone around him—especially his own brother, Jimmy.

After weeks of Jey’s escalating obsession, Jimmy had finally had enough. He had watched his brother spiral further into this unhealthy fixation on you, and the tension between them was becoming unbearable. Jey was talking about you nonstop—texting, calling, talking about “getting you back” in front of anyone who would listen, even though everyone knew the damage had been done. But it wasn’t until Jimmy saw just how far Jey had gone that he finally confronted him.

One evening, after a long night of drinking, the topic came up again, and Jimmy, visibly frustrated, slammed his beer down on the table.

“Yo, Jey,” Jimmy said, his voice low but firm, “you gotta stop this shit, man. This ain’t it. Let her move on bruh. She don’t want you no more. All this stalking, the fake profiles, you harassin’ her with flowers and gifts…that’s creepy, man. You need to let her go.”

Jey stared at him, the alcohol clouding his thoughts but not enough to hide the hurt that flickered in his eyes. “What? Nah, you don’t get it! She still loves me bruh. I know she does. I can feel it. She just need time, time to think shit over,” Jey responded, the words coming out more like a defense than a conviction.

Jimmy scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re delusional, bruh. She left you. You fucked up. That was on you! You had her, all of it—engaged, talking kids, all that—and you threw it away for a piece of ass. Ain’t no coming back from that. You gotta stop gaslighting her into thinkin’ it’s her fault. She deserve better. You need to let her go.”

There was a long silence, and you could see the reality hit Jey for the first time. His eyes shifted, flicking to the ground like he was trying to process what Jimmy was saying. But then, in true Jey fashion, he brushed it off with a quick dismissive grunt.

“Nah, I can’t. I’m not just finna let her go. I know I fucked up but I want my girl back.” He said putting a heavy emphasis on the possessive phrase. “Four years bruh, that shit mean somethin’ to me.”

“Bruh, yo ass was the one who cheated on her. It ain’t mean much, you need help,” Jimmy muttered, shaking his head. “This obsession you got? It’s toxic. Let it go before it gets worse. Before you really lose her for good.”

But Jey didn’t want to hear it. He never did. Jimmy sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at his brother like he was a stranger.

“You makin’ a fool of yourself. She’s not comin’ back. And you just makin’ it worse for yourself by doin’ this crazy shit. You needa stop.”

Later that evening, after the confrontation with Jimmy, Jey wasn’t about to give up. He wasn’t ready to face reality. Instead, he doubled down on his pursuit of you—continuing the fake profile, sending more gifts, and escalating his manipulation. It was his way of telling himself he hadn’t lost. But deep down, there was that nagging voice of truth that Jimmy planted in his mind, one that made him uncomfortable but one that he refused to acknowledge.

Trin: Don’t worry, I’m at the door now. You safe, girl. We’ll handle this. You ain’t alone in this. We’re gonna get you through this.

When Trin finally showed up at your door that night, she wrapped you in her arms, comforting you in a way that only a best friend could. But there was still that lingering fear. The gnawing feeling that Jey wouldn’t stop, not until he had you back. The thought that no matter how many blocks you put up, he’d find a way through them all.

And the worst part was—Jey knew he had control over your emotions. He was playing the long game, weaving a web of manipulation, guilt, and gaslighting, keeping you confused and uncertain about everything. Even after all this, you were left questioning what you could do to truly get away from him. Would he ever leave you alone? Would you ever be safe?

Jey has never hurt you but the thought of what he was capable of had you terrified. Stalking you and claiming ownership of you made the hairs on your skin stand on end, because it meant he would always be there, no matter what. But in a different way. This wasn’t in a loving way, it didn’t feel like it, it was possessive. It was twisted.

Although Trin urged you to call the police you couldn’t, you didn’t want this to blow up any further than it already had. Despite Jey acting like this, you didn’t wanna jeopardize his career even though he was jeopardizing your safety just about. You still tried to convince yourself that he would stop and eventually just give up and move on once he saw that you really had no intention of getting back together with him. You were able to convince Trin that you were okay and you would get some sleep, you changed the locks your house and had an alarm system so everything would be fine. Though she was reluctant to leave, she reassured you to call her and Jon if anything had went down and they’d be over as fast as their legs and black SUV would take them. With the click of the lock and the dimming of the light, you had managed to actually have a somewhat peaceful night. Nothing occurred. Nothing was out of place and the nightmare you had was too dull for you to remember.

Work the next day was grueling and the paperwork felt endless. But like the workhorse you were, you got it done. You were too busy to notice that there was no unmarked black car outside of your work, nor were there any more message attempts from random accounts. They all seemed to just…cease. But as work came to a close, you…weren’t really trusting that. While it seemed great that it stopped…did it really though?

You kept a close eye on your surroundings when you left for the night, but nothing seemed to be amiss—until you reached your car. There was a strange feeling in the air. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. As you approached your car, you noticed something odd. The passenger door was slightly ajar. You could have sworn you locked it, but now, it was open, just a crack.

Your heart stopped as you took a step closer. That was when you heard the faintest sound—a click, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to send a wave of dread through you. The air around you grew colder as you slammed the door shut and locked it again, glancing around. No one was there. But you already knew.

That night, when you got home, you tried to relax. You showered, ate dinner, and eventually fell asleep on the couch. You had set the alarm system on your house—a system you thought was foolproof. But you didn’t realize until much later that Jey had figured out a way to disable it. Somehow, he’d found a way in, to sneak around your house without detection.

The first time you woke up in the middle of the night, your mind confused, your body stiff with panic, you had no idea why. You glanced at the clock—3:42 AM. Everything was still, eerily so. But then your gaze fell to the window. The faintest shadow was visible in the corner of your eye. Your blood ran cold. It wasn’t a trick of the light. You could see him. Jey, standing just outside your window, looking into your bedroom. You could feel his eyes burning through the darkness. A sick feeling crawled up your spine.

He was watching you sleep.

You scrambled out of bed, your chest tightening as your heart raced. He was gone when you rushed to the window, but you could feel the presence lingering in the air, thick with his obsession. Your alarm system had been disabled, and you hadn’t heard a sound. How long had he been there? How often had he done this?

One evening, you got home to an odd feeling in your gut. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up once again as you approached your front door. You noticed the slight creak of the door handle. He’d been inside. You couldn’t prove it, but there was a faint, unfamiliar scent lingering in the air—a cheap cologne mixed with something else. You checked your alarm system. It had been off again.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there were small things that didn’t sit right. A misplaced mug on the kitchen counter. A piece of paper moved slightly to the left. It was as if he’d been inside, sitting there, just waiting. Watching.

Every night, you’d double-check the system before you went to bed. But every morning, without fail, you’d find it off again. Your pulse quickened as you realized—Jey had been creeping through your home, and somehow he knew how to turn your security system off, but you had no idea how. It wasn’t just the fact that he was inside your space. It was the terror of knowing he could get in without you knowing, that he could come and go as he pleased.

But the worst came when you woke up one night to the sound of faint footsteps. Barely audible, but undeniable. Your body was stiff with fear as your eyes snapped open. You felt that same panic grip you—the feeling that someone was in the room with you.

The darkness of the room was suffocating, the kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums. You lay still, breathing shallowly, praying your heart wouldn’t give you away. The footsteps came again, even quieter this time, like someone testing the floorboards, making sure they didn’t creak. Your skin prickled with the unmistakable sensation of being watched as you heard the sound of your door click and slowly open, creaking just slightly.

Your mind screamed for you to move, to shout, to do anything, but your body refused to cooperate, frozen under the weight of pure terror. You swallowed thickly, the taste of fear sharp on your tongue, as the air around you grew heavier. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as you slammed your eyes shut pretending to be asleep.

Then, out of nowhere, a low, cold voice sliced through the dark.

“I know you ain’t sleep mama.”

Your heart stopped. You tried to breathe, to keep your face neutral, but the tremor in your chest betrayed you. You hadn’t even dared to open your eyes, but somehow, he knew. Slowly, you felt something warm and rough brush against your throat—fingers. His fingers, impossibly close, sliding across your skin in a slow, deliberate caress.

Terror clawed at your insides as his hand rested gently around your neck, not yet tight, but enough to remind you that he was in control. You didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to let him know that you were awake, hoping that if you played dead long enough, he’d disappear. But you knew, deep down, it wouldn’t be that simple.

“Don’t pretend,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “’m sorry. For bein’ unfaithful, breakin’ your heart, allat shit. I wanna make it up to you.” His hands slid down to your chest before creeping back up to your neck, his fingers brushing ever so slightly.

You barely had time to react before you felt the other side of the bed dip, the covers lifting for a second only to settle again—this time, weighed down by something—or rather, someone as he replaced the emptiness beside you.

His fingers tightened around your neck, just a warning, but you could feel the tension in his grip, in his jaw, as his frustration grew with your silence. He seemed to savor the way your body betrayed you, shivering under his touch.

“But I just want you to know,” he whispered, his voice low, practically a growl, “whether it’s in your bed…” He gave another firm squeeze, just enough to leave a mark. “…or mine…I’ll always be here. Don’t matter if you know it or not.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was like his words didn’t just hang in the air—they latched onto you. The room seemed to freeze. The weight of what he had just said settled, and it hit you all at once. And before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes, your voice shook as you finally found the strength to speak. “G-Get the fuck out Jey…let go of m-me and l-leave.” You said which only earned you more suffocation as his fingers squeezed around your throat. “Wrong choice of words babygirl.” He said eyeing you up and down, you could feel his eyes practically piercing you before soon enough you felt his breath on your neck as his face sunk into your shoulder. His other hand wrapped itself around your body under the covers and you could feel his length press up against your back signifying his dominance over you. “You know I’m not finna do that, leave and let you go, let this go. It’s not bout to happen….but I’ll play a lil game witchu. Let me make love to you, one last time. We go two rounds, if you can last at least one of ’em without cummin’ on me, I’ll respect yo space. The boundaries you got. And I’ll leave this house. But if you lose” he trailed before planting a kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear. “This right here? This forever. You hear me? That mean you and me, ain’t no steppin’ out, I meant that shit. ‘m sorry, you can forget about allat other shit. But you stayin’ wimme. That go for you too though, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“I don’t want to play no fucking game, you’ve played enough games behind my back having a whole ass affair on me while I was engaged to you.” You said finally letting your anger show. “I know Y/N, and ‘m sorry f’real. Deadass. One last time and I’ll leave you alone…as long as you win, I’ll even turn that alarm system back on. Leave you secure and comfortable” he said, before planting a soft kiss on your neck. You hesitated but if this was the game he wanted to play, you would do your damnest to win it to get him to leave. One last time. You told yourself, just one last time. One game. You scoffed not looking at him. “When I win, I want you to get the fuck out of my house. I don’t wanna hear shit from you Joshua, nothing at all.” You commented before a smirk made its way across Jey’s face. “Okay…you got it, I wantchu to keep this same energy though when you lose though” he said as his hand slowly traveled down towards your waist band, taking its time rubbing across your stomach. “That future we talked about, I wantchu to know I meant that shit too ma” he said before his hands lowered, finding their way inside your pants and under your pants before reaching your clit. “Been missin’ her and I know she’s been missin’ me too” he cooed before lowering his fingers further before slipping one of them inside of you slowly getting a soft whimper from you in response. You hadn’t been stretched in a while but something about the way he soothed you afterwards made your body relax. “I know baby, just relax we gon’ get her there” he said before adding another finger and pumping them back and forth slowly…at first.

The quicker he noticed you got use to the feeling and that your hips began to thrust against his fingers, he took the hint and sank his fingers deeper before curling them slightly. A gasp escaped your lips as your breathing became more shallow from the build up taking place until you suddenly let out a loud moan the moment his fingers brushed up against that spot that made you see stars. “J-Jey!”

“Mhm, ‘m still right here mama” he said, his fingers curling around that spot even further causing you to throw your head back as your legs shook. Your eyes were starting to roll back as your lashes fluttered as you struggled to keep your eyes fully open.

As your moans became breathless and your body shook, the wetness between your legs becoming more and more apparent. You couldn’t help but lean your head back against his as you fought the urge to cum with every bone in your body but his fingers just knew their way around every crevasse. The way they moved. How they gathered around the spot that drove you over the edge. No coherent thought. No common sense. Nothing except the feeling of pleasure completely forgetting that this is the same man who had you in utter fear for the past few months. You couldn’t deny how he made you feel in the bedroom. It was sick. It was fucked up but you still couldn’t find the sense the care, not while he was doing this.

“How you feelin’ mama?” He coarsed into your ear as he curled his fingers knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle it. “F-Fuck!” You let out as he brushed over the same spot again. And again. He knew exactly what he was doing, and as much as you tried to remain strong your legs were becoming jelly and the build to your orgasm was becoming too intense, too much to handle. So much so that your hands found themselves clinging desperately to Jey’s, the one that was still so threateningly wrapped around your throat. But god when his breath found its way to your ear, it was like he had full control over you. “Got yo ass huh? You’n really want me to go do you? Not when yo shit wrapped around my fingers like this” he was so cocky about it but he wasn’t wrong. Your pussy gripped his fingers like no tomorrow and your juices were covering damn near his whole hand, leaking onto the sheets. “Fall apart for me mama, I’ll be right here to catch you” he said as he curled his fingers more suddenly, and that sent you over the edge as your hips bucked and your juices spilled all over his hand and the sheets under you. A loud moan escaped you as your body jolted, the after shocks of your orgasm hitting you directly with Jey’s hand sliding up from your neck, curling around your chin turning your face towards his giving you a desperate kiss. The kiss was of sheer need and dominance, the way his tongue slid across yours as you reciprocated while shaking gave him all the confirmation he needed. You weren’t going anywhere. The metal from his grills and your tongue crossed paths several times and each time you felt yourself sinking further and further into his games. “You got one more chance, you know. Don’t blow it this time though, you know what happens if you lose” he said after pulling away from the kiss and unbuckling his pants before you suddenly felt the thickness of his length hit against your ass. If this wasn’t a game and you were on good terms, normally you would’ve melted at the feeling. But now wasn’t the time to relish in this, you really wanted him gone, to leave you alone after what he did, you didn’t want to believe a word he was saying yet your body just wouldn’t agree with you. It was listening to Jey and every word he said.

Jey removed the covers before turning your body towards the foot of the bed where not only he had a full view but so did you because he positioned you right in front of your vanity mirror. The realization didn’t hit you until he had pushed your upper body towards the covers and brought your ass up to his waist. But before you could say anything, all you felt was your insides expand from his girth, a moan leaving your lips as he bottomed out inside of you. Before you knew it, your face was in your sheets as he gave you back shots with the upmost precision. One hand pressing down on the back of your neck while the other was wrapped around your waist pulling it towards him with each thrust. His strokes started off slow before gradually speeding up causing your moans to also grow louder from the pressure beginning to build in your core. Your pussy was throbbing and you had tears aching to fall from the corner of your eyes and you didn’t know if it was from the pleasure you were receiving down below or from the fact that you knew this was your last chance at this sick game. You couldn’t differ between the two. Your mind couldn’t but your body answered for you as your pussy clenched around Jey’s dick like a vice earning a grunt from him in response.

“You thought I was finna go somewhere, when you crumblin’ under me like this, throbbing and damn near cryin’? Look at chu” he said gripping a few of your box braids forcing you to look up at the mirror in front of you. It was embarassing. Your stalker of an ex was drilling your insides, in your house, in front of your mirror and you couldn’t help but love it. This was nothing short of insanity. Dangerous even. Because of how possessive he was being over you even though he was the one who was unfaithful. And worst of all, you were letting him because you couldn’t get enough of the feeling. The thrill of it all. Your eyes were watering, your braids swaying back and forth from the force of his thrusts, your juices dripped onto the bed each time his dick pushed in and pulled out of you. Sweat gathered at your temple from the activities you were engaging in and Jey’s eyes stared back at you but they didn’t have an ounce of light in them. They were dark and hungry. “You look so beautiful, Y/N, never doing that shit again. Keep arching just like that f’me, god damn girl” he praised, as the sounds of his skin meeting yours and both your moans filled the atmosphere. You wanted to look away so bad, the way you gripped the sheets as your chest was pressed against the covers, nothing but your cleavage being visible as your ass was in the air sent your mind spinning. You wanted to look away so bad but he made sure you stayed right there. He wanted you to watch how your body reacted just as he did. Though your mind was already spinning, your core and your insides couldn’t help but squeeze around Jey. His dick completely filling you, his voice low and rough as he spoke so you knew he meant every word. You couldn’t help the way your pussy tightened around him, everything he was doing to your body including the praise was driving you mad. This was so wrong, but the way he made your body answer to his every need felt so right. “J-Josh” you let his name slip knowing it would get his attention but you couldn’t form a sentence after that. Losing the game slowly became an after thought the more his voice and his body responded to yours. “I know babygirl, ‘m almost there too. You knew you wasn’t gon win wimme, you might as well let it go. Make a mess on me mama” he commanded and even though you nodded no trying to be stubborn, you should’ve known better that wouldn’t work. All it took was for his dick to kiss your cervix one last time before you came undone squirting all over his dick and the sheets beneath you. The tension was too much and you couldn’t hold it in any longer and Jey couldn’t either because just as you finished all you could feel was his muscular tatted arms wrapping around you as you felt his warm load pool around inside of you. You knew how risky it was but you still found yourself moaning his name again anyway as you heard his drawn out moan against your ear. The space between you both no longer existing as his body clung to yours like his life depended on it.

As you both came down from your high, it was Jey who spoke first. “You ain’t last baby, you know what that mean beautiful.” He said and although you knew you agreed to it your mind raced. You were scared and the thought of him being unfaithful again after doing all of this, terrified you.

A couple weeks later, the two pink lines you stared at on the pregnancy stick before you had, made you uneasy. Not only were you still paranoid but that future you talked about with Jey was becoming reality. You were pregnant with his child and he had gotten exactly what he wanted. But it wasn’t all so bad, he was showering you with love, affection, and the moment you told him you were pregnant he was practically in tears. Him picking you up and reminding you that you were his and the promising future of a family was both yours to share made you happy but it also sent chills down your spine because you and him were connected for life now.

The nursery was already being planned, and his hand never strayed far from your belly. At night, he whispered dreams of your baby’s laugh, the first steps, birthday candles. You wanted to believe in it, in him. And maybe, part of you did.

But sometimes, when he thought you were asleep, you’d catch him on the phone — whispering, pacing, too quiet for you to hear the words. Sometimes, you’d swear you saw something shift in his eyes when he looked at you, like he knew something you didn’t. And that only made you wonder. He got what he wanted, what about you?

Taglist: @mselenalovebug @marsstyles @binnieaddict @luvrgirl4roman @empressdede @sheaabuttaababyy @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @isabella-2025

Divider Credits: @anitalenia

A/N: Phew I’m back from Japan and I finished this while on the plane…I hope y’all like it sorry I haven’t written in a while😭

[leahradke-way]

Mami 🖤💜🖤💜👑

[mamisalwaysontop96]

Warrior #rheabloodyripley 🗡️ 🥵

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

One thing I’ll say about Elimination Chamber 2025:

After this event, Cody Rhodes and CM Punk have been cemented as the main babyfaces of WWE. Cody is now the ultimate underdog, going against the Hollywood monsters who sold their souls. Cody not only refused to sell his soul, but reaffirmed that his soul is with the WWE audience and even told the Rock to go fuck himself with his offer. So in addition to being the underdog hero, he’s now the current people’s champion.

As for CM Punk, they gave him the Stone Cold moment. Instead of tapping out to Cena’s STF, he was so stubborn in his desire to win that he passed out. And just to add on to this, he only lost because he got screwed over by Seth Rollins. After years of the audience wanting him to be in the main event of Wrestlemania, the crowd is 100% going to be on his side when he goes on the hunt for Seth. He was already over as a babyface. Now? He’s OVER over.

So basically, Cena and Rock have helped Cody Rhodes cement his status as the top babyface/people’s champ of the Netflix era. CM Punk is now the top “antihero” babyface, the one who has a bit more of an edge but still gets the pop of a babyface. They’re the Rock/Stone Cold of this generation. Or the Cena/Orton.

[onlyangel4]

the hardest bump. cm punk.

cm punk x wife!reader.

platonic!bianca belair x reader

synopsis: it was supposed to be just another match. but when you don’t get up, punk’s entire world shatters. now, with you fighting for your health, he’s fighting with himself , having to decide between wanting to keep you safe forever, or letting you chase the only dream you’ve ever known.

wordcount: 4.5k

warnings: injury. hospitals. angst with a happy ending.

it started like any other match day. you were sitting on the edge of the bench in the locker room, lacing up your boots, when you felt eyes on you. looking up, you caught your husband leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, that smirk that you had learnt to love tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"you sure you want to dance with rhea tonight? she's a whole different beast," he teased playfully. you rolled your eyes, tossing a wrist tape at him hitting him in the chest as he walked over and crouched in front of you.

"relax, old man. it's not me you've got to worry about. i've got this"

punk chuckled under his breath, but there was still something in his eyes, like he was trying to memorize every detail of you in this moment. pre match bliss was probably his favourite part about getting to work with you every single week. no matter whether it was you or him that had a match that night it was tradition for you to spend the moments leading up to it engrossed in one another.

he gently took your hand and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist the little pre-match ritual you both started when you first got together when you were working with different companies and only got to spend a couple match days a year with one another. his lips lingered just a second longer than usual. "be safe out there, babe. i love you."

before you could respond, bianca burst into the room with her usual infectious energy, tossing you a protein bar. "eat that love, we got to keep that energy up" she said, grinning. punk gave her a nod of respect, but you could see the playful rivalry between them. now that you all worked together weekly you found your husband and best friend constantly competing for your attention but in the most playful, light-hearted of ways.

"if rhea gets too rough", punk joked, raising an eyebrow, "i'm storming the ring."

"it's rhea i have had a million matched with that girl, i'll be fine" you laughed, leaning in to kiss him. "i'll see you after."

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"does that man ever stop worrying about you", bianca questioned as she walked alongside you.

"you would have thought five years and a chapel later he would have calmed down on the whole protective thing but i don't think he ever will"

bianca laughed shaking her head, "you ready?", she asked just gently checking in.

"you are almost as bad as him", you laughed as your music began to play throughout the arena and you did your entrance, bianca flanked at your side. just like usual.

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the match started just like you and rhea had painstakingly practiced it was crisp, intense, but completely under control. every strike, every grapple was hitting perfectly. the crowd was molten completely engrossed, feeding off the chemistry you both had. from ringside, you could hear bianca shouting her usual words of encouragement, a few curses breaking through but that was netflix's problem. not yours.

about halfway through, you both set up for the big spot, the match’s turning point, the show-stealer. a top-rope slam. one you'd rehearsed backstage until it was muscle memory. rhea was perfectly in position, trusting you like she always did. you took a steadying breath, climbing the ropes, adjusting your footing.

but then your boot caught. just a fraction of an inch off, but just enough to be catastrophic. it was enough to make you fall.

you didn't have time to correct it. the next second was both a blur and in slow motion. the slam went through, but the landing was wrong. horribly wrong. you slammed against the mat with a sickening snap, pain detonating through your neck and shoulder like you'd been struck by lightning. stealing the air right out of your lungs.

you tried to push through instinctively wrestlers always do. muscle memory kicked in as you tried to scramble to your feet to finish the match, but your body betrayed you. your arm wouldn't move. your legs felt like jelly and buckled under you. the ring lights above spun wildly as you struggled to blink back the stars in your vision.

you could hear bianca's voice instantly shift from hyped to horrified. "get up, y/n, come on, baby, get up", the words were a plea. she needed to know that you were okay.

the ref (jessica) looked down at you, and you must’ve looked worse than you realized because without hesitation, she threw the unmistakable "x" high into the air. this caused the entire arena to gasp. the energy completely shifted like someone had pulled the plug on the entire show.

rhea’s eyes went wide, immediately dropping character and sliding to her knees at your side. "shit y/n, hey, talk to me, you okay?, you're okay right. please talk to me." her voice cracked as she hovered protectively, trying to shield you from the cameras without making it obvious. and bianca scrambled into the ring. her eyes looked straight at michael cole, "roll a video or something, this is a bad one", she called out and michael got to work talking about anything but your injury getting the cameras to focus on him and pat. not your motionless body in the ring.

you could barely register anything. the only thing you could focus on was the sharp, gut wrenching panic settling into your chest, because somewhere beyond the ropes your husband was watching.

and you couldn't move.

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back in gorilla, punk’s heart didn’t just stop. it detonated.

he knew this was different the second it happened. the slip. the landing. the unnatural angle of your body as you slammed into the mat. every instinct inside him rebelled, screaming at him to do something, to stop the match, to rewind time.

his head was so fucked that he barely registered his own body moving. he ignored the producers shouting after him. other wrestlers in the company tried to grab his arm, get him to calm down before going out there but those efforts were futile. he was cm punk, if he wanted to do something he was going to do it. especially when it came to his wife. they looked him and it was like they were looking at someone else. his face contained sheer panic, he was wide eyed and wrecked so they stepped aside. they had never seen punk like this.

and once he was past the curtain, he sprinted.

his body launched down the ramp, faster than ever, feet pounding the steel, throat tight with fear. the crowd didn't matter. the cameras didn't matter. nothing mattered, he just needed to get to you.

"move!" he barked, shoving past a medic, hitting his knees hard beside you. his hand hovered for a split second before they found yours, trembling as his free hand brushed the sweaty hair from your face.

"baby, please, look at me," his voice cracked. the Punk that everyone in the company knew was gone. he was just a man desperately clinging to the love of his life willing for her to be okay. "stay with me, sweetheart, i'm right here, i've got you."

your vision was foggy, and your head was spinning, but even through the chaos you could hear it the fear radiating off everyone in the ring, by now hunter had made the decision to cut the recording and play a highlight reel of matches from the past but the in house crowd were still in the arena eyes glued to the scene that was unfolding in front of them. punk's thumb rubbed frantic, desperate circles against your palm like he could anchor you to the world with just that touch.

rhea stepped back, guilt flooding her face as she whispered broken apologies. bianca despite being stressed out of her mind had seen this and her arms wrapped around rhea hugging her. "she would never blame you rhea, it was not your fault", she spoke tears rolling down her cheeks.

punk’s voice dropped to a whisper, voice shaking so hard it barely sounded like him. "stay with me, please, don’t leave me i need you, please sweetheart. i need you." his forehead pressed against your hand, and you felt the wetness of his tears soaking your fingers. "don't leave me. not like this"

when the medics finally had to move you, punk refused to let go. they told him to give them space, but he physically could not move. he was glued to your side, walking with you as they wheeled you up the ramp.

"you're okay, you're going to be okay," he kept repeating, voice cracking more every time, as if saying it enough would make it true.

behind him, bianca didn’t even try to hide her sobs. she followed quietly, hand over her mouth, eyes never leaving you.

and punk?

he never stopped holding your hand. not once. not when he climbed into the ambulance, not when bianca hugged you goodbye, not when the ambulance crew asked a million questions about your health and definitely not when the fear that he might have just watched the love of his life break beyond repair clawed at him with every agonising second.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

once you got to the hospital you were taken back straight away and bianca and punk were ushered to a family and friends waiting room.

the fluorescent lights of the room felt colder than the steel chair punk was hunched over in, elbows on his knees, hands wringing together so tightly they were turning white. he hadn’t spoken much since they wheeled you through those doors. not to bianca, not to the medics, not even to the poor staff member who tried to gently suggest he change out of his gear. his mind was focused on thoughts of you. everything else was merely background noise

bianca sat a few seats away, tear tracks still drying on her cheeks, but refusing to leave. her eyes flicked anxiously between the clock and the double doors you’d disappeared behind.

when the doctor finally walked out, clipboard in hand, punk shot to his feet in an instant. "how is she? tell me she’s okay."

the doctor raised a steadying hand. "she’s stable. breathing on her own. she was conscious but she is back asleep because of the pain killers."

punk felt a weight off his chest as soon as those words left the doctor's mouth. you were okay, that was all he cared about. bianca visibly sagged in relief against the chair, murmuring a shaky, "thank god."

but the doctor’s face stayed serious. "she took a hard fall. there’s a cervical sprain, the muscles and ligaments in her neck were strained badly on impact and more concerning, there was immediate nerve trauma. likely a brachial plexus injury."

punk blinked, it all sounded like a different language. "brachial what?"

the doctor softened. "think of it as a stinger but severe. that’s why she couldn’t feel or move her arm properly. we ran imaging to rule out spinal cord damage." the pause nearly killed him. "thankfully, there’s no fracture. no permanent spinal injury."

punk dropped into the chair like gravity had doubled, head falling into his hands as the tension ripped from his body. his worst fear, paralysis, wasn’t real. she would heal.

but the doctor wasn’t done. "there is also a partial rotator cuff tear in her right shoulder from the angle of the landing. surgery might be necessary depending on how it responds to therapy."

punk’s throat worked, but no words came out.

"how long?" bianca whispered. "before she’s better?”

"it could be six months. maybe longer." the doctor looked between the two of them. "she might never get the function that she did have back. it all depends on how she responds to treatment", he spoke and bianca's face was etched with worry. she knew how much work mattered to you. how much it would kill you to be permanently benched.

"she’s stable, you can go see her, she is sleeping though."

before the sentence was even finished, punk was already moving.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

it had been about an hour of punk and bianca sitting in your hospital room waiting for you to wake up. the doctors had assured them that it was totally normal for you to be this tired after the trauma your body had sustained and the painkillers you had been pumped full of.

punk sat hunched over your hand, eyes red rimmed but refusing to cry fully, like letting go would make it worse. his thumb stroked mindless circles on your knuckles, replaying every second of the match in his head . the slip, the impact, your face twisted in pain.

bianca slipped into the room quietly, carrying coffee, knowing he wouldn't leave to get any himself. punk didn’t even look up.

"you’re scaring me, man," she whispered, stepping closer, placing one hand on his shoulder.

he sniffed and finally spoke. "i told her to be careful. i kissed her wrist and i told her to be safe. like that was enough." his voice cracked again, and this time, bianca’s tough exterior crumbled too.

she sat beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "we both know she wouldn’t want you beating yourself up like this. she trusts you more than anyone. she's going to need you to help her heal. not this version of you who’s tearing himself apart."

and then, as if on cue, you stirred. a weak groan slipped past your lips, eyes fluttering open.

"y/n?" Punk was on his feet instantly, gripping your hand like it was the only thing telling him this was real. "baby, hey. i’m right here. you're okay." his voice cracked like he didn't even believe it yet.

your eyes met his, and seeing the absolute devastation on his face, you whispered, barely audible, "babe i'm okay."

And that broke him. He choked on a sob, lowering his forehead to your hand, finally letting himself cry properly — ugly, desperate, relieved tears. Bianca wiped at her own eyes, trying to pull herself together, but even she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

"i’m sorry," he kept repeating between broken breaths, like he could’ve changed anything.

you, despite the pain, weakly pulled at his hand until he finally crawled into the hospital bed next to you, careful not to hurt you further. he wrapped you in the gentlest hug, holding you like you’d slip away if he didn’t. and for the first time since the accident, you both allowed yourselves to just feel everything, pain, love, fear, relief it was all tangled into one devastatingly tender moment.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

when bianca left to go sort some things out punk was still a mess. he stood up and paced the room like he couldn’t physically sit still.

"you’re done." the words left his mouth sharp but shaky. his eyes didn’t meet yours at first. "wrestling. you’re done."

you blinked, unsure if you heard him right. "babe"

"i’m serious," he cut in, voice raw. "i don’t care what the doctors say. i don’t care what you say. you don’t get to." he stopped himself, pressing his fingers to his temple like he was trying to force the panic away. "i can't do this again. i can't watch you go out there and get hurt like that again."

the silence between you was suffocating. his breathing was uneven. he wasn't being possessive. he was just fucking terrified. his entire soul was sitting at the edge of a cliff.

"i know you love this," he whispered, finally meeting your eyes, "but you’re everything to me. the thought of you not coming back. i wouldn't survive"

his voice broke completely. he turned away, shoulders shaking.

"hey, hey," you said softly, motioning him back over. "come here."

punk hesitated, but you could see he needed it as much as you did. he slowly shuffled back to the bed, and you pulled him into your arms, weak but determined. he sank into you like he was falling apart, his head resting against your chest.

"i'm right here," you whispered. "i'm okay. you didn't lose me."

he clung to you for dear life, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. "i can't lose you. you're my whole damn world, sweetheart."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

two weeks in the hospital had you losing your mind. thankfully you did not need surgery on your shoulder but the hospital wanted to keep you in so they could put you on a strict regime of physical therapy.

your days were all monotonous, punk would visit sometimes alone sometimes with bianca or your family. he would sit with you for a bit before going down to therapy with you. you appreciated his company but you were going mad. all you wanted was to climb out of your hospital bed and into the ring.

but you knew better than to bring the subject up with your husband, he made it very clear how he felt about everything and you did not have the energy to push. so you just talked to him about anything other than wrestling.

and eventually you got well enough to go home.

the drive home from the hospital was quiet , not in a heavy, uncomfortable way, but in the fragile quiet that comes after a storm. neither of you spoke much, but punk’s hand never once left yours on the centre console. his thumb kept tracing the same anxious little circles against your skin, like if he stopped you would disappear.

at every red light, he glanced over at you not to check your injuries, but to read your face, to make sure you were still there with him. you could tell he wasn’t convinced that everything was going to work out. not yet.

when you finally got home, your husband practically flew out of the car and circled around to your door before you could even reach for the handle. he didn’t ask he just scooped you into his arms with a tenderness that broke you a little.

you would’ve laughed, teased him about overreacting, told him you could walk, injury or not. but you saw his face.

there was no teasing him tonight.

his jaw was tight, eyes glassy and strained, every line of his face drawn tight with fear he hadn’t managed to shake yet. you could feel the stress of the last few weeks radiating off him.

he carried you through the door like you were made of glass, navigating straight to the couch where he eased you down with painstaking care. pillows were fluffed and adjusted. your favourite blanket was brought over without you asking. he even went as far as grabbing the specific water bottle he knew you preferred, twisting the cap off and setting it beside you along with your painkillers.

you watched him pace.

he was busying himself, grabbing things you didn’t need, moving pillows you wouldn’t use, all because it was easier than sitting still. easier than feeling.

his voice, when it finally came, was rough and distant. "you need anything else?" his arms crossed tightly, like he was trying to physically hold himself together.

your throat tightened. you reached for him, voice small but steady. "yeah", you whispered. "you."

the sound he made wasn’t quite a sob, but it was close. his whole body sagged, shoulders slumping as though you’d knocked the wind right out of him. in two steps, he was across the room, sinking onto the couch, pulling you gently against his chest. his arms wrapped around you like you might slip through his fingers otherwise.

"you have me", he murmured into your hair, voice breaking. "always. no matter what."

you melted against him, feeling the way his grip tightened just slightly, like he still needed to prove it to himself.

and for a long time, neither of you moved. you just stayed there, tangled up on the couch, while the storm finally started to pass.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

later that night, bianca stopped by with food, claiming it was to "check in" but really she was just as worried about punk as she was about you. you could tell by the way she side eyed him all night as he hovered around you like a shadow.

finally, when you drifted off on the couch, bianca yanked punk into the kitchen.

"you've got to stop looking like the world ended," she whispered, crossing her arms.

"the world almost ended, bianca," punk shot back, voice rough.

"but it didn’t," she pushed. "she’s here. she’s breathing. she's stronger than both of us combined and you know it."

punk leaned against the counter, rubbing at his eyes. "i don’t know how to do this," he admitted. "she’s my whole life. what if next time..."

bianca grabbed his hoodie, forcing him to face her. "then you’ll be there. like you always are. like you were that day. but you can’t put her in a bubble. you fell in love with a fighter. let her fight. just don’t make her do it without you."

that hit him like a punch straight to the ribs. bianca was right. he couldn't expect you to walk away from the sport that you loved. he could not give you that ultimatum.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

later that night, when the house was dark and quiet, punk had carried you up the stairs and gently placed you in bed. he stood at the side of the bed, still not ready to rest. his mind a whirlwind of emotion.

your voice sliced through the silence, "you think i didn’t hear you two?"

his heart sank. "i’m sorry"

"bon't be." you pulled his arm and he climbed into the bed next to you. "i get it. but you don’t get to make that choice for me."

punk swallowed hard, tears forming again. "i’m scared."

"so am i" you admitted. "but I want to fight. not just in the ring, but for us. for this. and i need you in my corner, not holding me back."

punk crumbled. his walls shattered like glass. he didn’t hide the tears this time. he slid down the bed until he was able to rest his head on your stomach, sobbing quietly.

"i love you so damn much," he choked out. "i’m so sorry, baby. i just, i need you."

you carded your fingers through his hair. "you have me. you’ve always had me. just don’t make me do this alone."

"as long as i'm alive you will never be alone."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the locker room was buzzing with the usual pre-show chaos, but for you, it all sounded like white noise. your gear was already on, fingers nervously tapping against your thigh as you sat on the bench, staring down at your boots. six months. half a year of doctors, rehab, setbacks, doubts, and nights where you almost believed you'd never be back here.

and now you were minutes away from your return match. you were ready. you had to be ready.

the door creaked open. punk slipped inside, quietly shutting it behind him. he was in his usual black hoodie, arms crossed, but you could tell from the softened lines on his face that he wasn’t here to give you last minute advice. he was here because he needed to be. he couldn't stay away.

"you okay, sweetheart?" he asked gently, voice quiet but steady.

you nodded, but he could see right through you. he crossed the room and dropped to his knees in front of you, like he had that night, only now without the panic. this time, it was reverence. tenderness. he took your hands and kissed your knuckles, then pressed them against his heart.

"you don’t have to prove anything", he said firmly. "not to them, not to anyone. not even to me. you have already proved that you are a survivor"

your throat tightened. "i need to do this"

his eyes softened even more. "i know", he whispered. "and i’ll be right there. like always."

you leaned forward until your foreheads touched, his thumb brushed under your eye, catching a tear before it could fall. "i’m so damn proud of you", he said. "no matter what happens out there, you hear me? you’re already everything to me."

you squeezed his hand. "stay where i can see you?"

"always."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the crowd was electric the second your music hit. the roar was deafening, louder than anything you have ever heard in your many years performing in front of countless crowds. signs with your name waved from every corner. and standing right at the edge of the curtain in gorilla, you caught your husband watching you with glassy eyes and the softest, proudest smile you’d ever seen.

your opponent, bayley, met you in the ring with a wide smile and a genuine hug before the bell, mouthing a quiet welcome back. the match started smoothly. every bump, every movement, you felt the ring again like it was a part of you. sure, there was rust, but your body remembered.

and punk didn’t take his eyes off you for a second.

from behind the monitor in gorilla, arms crossed tight against his chest, he watched every step, every impact. his heart raced every time you grabbed your shoulder instinctively or landed hard, but he noticed the little things too. the fire in your eyes. the way you rallied after every setback. the spark that never left you, even after everything that you had been through.

when you locked in your finishing submission move and bayley tapped, the crowd erupted. You sat there in the centre of the ring, overwhelmed and shaking. and when you looked up the ramp, there he was.

punk had stepped just out onto the stage, not caring about breaking the fourth wall. his hands were clapping slowly but deliberately, eyes never leaving you. no bravado. no smirk. just absolute pride.

you felt yourself start to cry, but you smiled through it as he mouthed, you did it.

backstage, the second you stepped through gorilla, he was there in the crowd of people ready to congratulate you on your return. pulling you straight into his arms, practically lifting you off the ground. he kissed your temple over and over, holding you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"i told you", he whispered against your hair. "you’re unstoppable."

and this time, you believed it.

[keekee-23]

Unspoken Desires

A Y/N x Damian Priest Fanfiction

Warning: Smut

Summary: Damian Priest offers Y/N a place to stay during her house fumigation. She accidentally catches Damian in an intimate moment, leading to a passionate encounter that reveals their hidden feelings.

Y/N sighed as she locked the front door of her house, taking one last glance at the “Fumigation in Progress” sign staked in her front yard. She knew it was necessary, but the inconvenience of finding somewhere to stay for a few days wasn’t something she’d anticipated. Fortunately, her good friend Damian Priest had offered her a solution. He had invited her to stay at his place until the fumigation was complete. While she initially hesitated, his genuine concern and insistence had won her over.

The thought of being so close to Damian made her nervous, not because she feared for her safety—she knew he would protect her without a second thought—but because of the feelings she had been harboring for him, feelings she had kept hidden for far too long.

When she arrived at Damian’s place, she was struck by how comfortable and inviting it was. Damian’s home was a perfect reflection of him—modern, stylish, and undeniably masculine. The walls were adorned with a mixture of Batman, horror paraphilia and Asian inspired decor, and the furniture was sleek yet comfortable.

He greeted her with his usual charming smile, his tall, muscular frame leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Make yourself at home, Y/N,” Damian said, his voice smooth and inviting. “I’m really glad you decided to stay here. It’ll be nice having some company.”

Y/N returned his smile, though her heart was pounding in her chest. “Thanks, Damian. I really appreciate you letting me crash here. I didn’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing at all,” he assured her, his dark eyes holding hers for a moment longer than usual. “I’m happy to have you here.”

The warmth in his voice made her stomach flutter. She had always been attracted to Damian—who wouldn’t be? He was tall, tatted, handsome, and had an effortless charisma that drew people to him. But there was more to him than his looks. He was kind, thoughtful, and had a way of making her feel special, even when she was just a friend in his orbit. And now, staying under his roof, she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way about her.

After Y/N settled in, Damian insisted on making dinner. He moved confidently around the kitchen, his strong hands expertly chopping vegetables and seasoning the meat. Y/N watched him from the kitchen island, admiring the way his muscles flexed under his shirt as he worked.

“You’re quite the chef,” Y/N remarked, trying to distract herself from the way her body was reacting to him.

Damian chuckled, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I like to cook. It helps me unwind after a long day. Plus, it’s a great way to impress guests.”

Y/N smirked, feeling a little more at ease. “Well, consider me impressed.”

They ate together at the dining table, the atmosphere comfortable but with an undercurrent of tension that neither could ignore. They talked about everything and nothing— her job, his upcoming wrestling tours, their mutual friends, old memories—but there was something different about their conversation tonight. Damian seemed more attentive, his gaze lingering on her lips when she spoke, his hand brushing hers when he passed her the salt. Y/N felt the heat rise in her cheeks every time their eyes met.

After dinner, they moved to the living room. Damian poured them each a glass of wine, and they sat on the couch, the dim lighting creating an intimate ambiance. They continued talking, their conversation flowing easily, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would change everything between them.

When it was finally time to call it a night, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. The day had been surprisingly perfect, and the thought of it ending left her with a longing she couldn’t quite shake.

“Goodnight, Damian,” she said softly as he showed her to the guest room, the wine having left her feeling warm and slightly flushed.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his voice low and filled with something she couldn’t quite place. “Sleep well.”

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Her heart was still racing, her mind replaying every moment of the evening. It was as if something had shifted between them, something subtle but undeniable.

Y/N changed into her pajamas and slipped into the guest bed, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Her mind replayed the evening's events, the way Damian had looked at her, the subtle touches that sent shivers down her spine. Did he feel the same way she did? Or was she imagining things, letting her attraction to him cloud her judgment?

Sometime later, she woke up with the need to use the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep as she padded down the hallway. On her way back to the guest room, something caught her attention. Damian’s bedroom door was slightly ajar, and a soft light spilled into the hallway.

Curiosity got the best of her, and Y/N found herself peeking through the crack in the door. What she saw made her heart stop.

Damian was lying on his bed, his shirt discarded on the floor, his muscular chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. One hand gripped the sheets beside him, while the other was wrapped around his length, moving with steady, deliberate strokes. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she realized what she was witnessing. But what shocked her more than anything was hearing him moan her name, his voice thick with desire.

“Y/N…”

The sound of her name falling from his lips sent a shockwave of arousal through her body. She should have turned away, given him his privacy, but she was rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of him pleasuring himself, thinking of her.

She bit her lip, feeling a rush of heat between her thighs as she watched him. The sight of Damian in such an intimate moment, his face contorted in pleasure as he whispered her name, was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed. Her pulse quickened, and she felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to go to him, to be the one to satisfy the desire he was feeling.

But just as she tried to back away, her foot accidentally bumped into a small table by the wall, the sound echoing loudly in the silent hallway. She froze, her heart leaping into her throat as Damian’s eyes snapped open and locked onto hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, her mind racing as she tried to come up with an excuse, anything to explain why she was standing there, watching him. But Damian’s expression was calm, almost amused, as if he had been expecting this all along.

Slowly, he sat up and adjusted himself. His movements were deliberate as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Y/N’s eyes were drawn to his body, the way his muscles flexed as he moved, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He didn’t seem the least bit ashamed of being caught in such a compromising position. If anything, he looked pleased.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down her spine.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her brain was still trying to process what she had just seen, what she was still seeing. Damian’s eyes were dark with desire as he stood and slowly walked toward her, his movements predatory, like a panther stalking its prey.

Y/N’s body reacted before her mind could catch up, her heart pounding in her chest as he approached. She knew she should turn and run, retreat to the safety of the guest room, but she couldn’t move. The way he was looking at her, with such raw, unfiltered lust, made her knees weak.

When he was only a foot away, Damian reached out, his hand cupping her cheek as he gazed down at her. His touch was warm, his thumb gently stroking her skin as he tilted her head up to meet his eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to see that,” he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through her body. “But I’m glad you did.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. There was something in his tone, something in the way he was looking at her, that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. Her mind was racing, trying to process what was happening, but all she could focus on was the heat radiating from his body, the way his breath ghosted over her skin.

“I… I didn’t mean to—” she started, but Damian cut her off with a soft shush.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he whispered, his hand coming up to caress her cheek. His touch was gentle, but there was a firmness to it that made her shiver. “How long I’ve imagined this?”

Y/N’s breath hitched. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, but the sincerity in his voice, the intensity in his eyes, left no room for doubt. He wanted her—just as much as she wanted him.

“I’ve thought about you, too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her heart was pounding so hard she was sure he could hear it, but she didn’t care anymore. The truth was out, and there was no taking it back now.

Damian’s eyes darkened with desire, and before she could say another word, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into him, her hands coming up to clutch his shoulders as she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

The kiss was everything she had imagined it would be—intense, passionate, and filled with a longing that had been building between them for so long. Damian’s hands roamed her body, exploring every curve with a reverence that made her feel cherished, desired. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a way that made her toes curl.

He pulled her closer, his body pressing against hers, and Y/N moaned softly into his mouth. She could feel the heat of his arousal through his boxers against her, and it only fueled her own desire. She wanted him—needed him—more than she had ever needed anyone.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her off the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried her toward the bed. Y/N’s heart pounded with excitement as he laid her down gently, his body hovering over hers, every movement deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and desire. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Me too,” Y/N admitted, her voice trembling with anticipation. She reached up, tracing the lines of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at the softness of his skin beneath her touch. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Damian.”

Her confession seemed to ignite something in him. With a low growl, Damian claimed her lips once more, the kiss searing and intense. His hands were everywhere, sliding beneath her shirt to push it up and over her head, discarding it carelessly to the floor. Y/N’s breath hitched as his hands moved to her bra, deftly unclasping it before tossing it aside. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over her exposed chest, his eyes darkening with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone, and lower still. Y/N’s breath hitched as he kissed his way down to her breasts, his tongue flicking out to tease one of her hardened nipples.

Y/N gasped, her back arching off the bed as Damian gently took her nipple into his mouth, sending a surge of pleasure through her. The sensation was overwhelming, and she instinctively tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished her breasts with tender attention. His tongue teased and his lips caressed, each movement igniting a fire that spread through her entire body. Damian’s hands began to explore further, slipping under the waistband of her shorts with a deliberate, slow motion, smoothly tugging them down along with her panties, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

Once she was completely bare before him, Damian paused to drink in the sight of her. His eyes traced every curve, every inch of her exposed skin with an intensity that made Y/N’s heart race. The heat of his gaze made her skin tingle, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks under his thorough scrutiny. Yet, despite her initial shyness, the way he looked at her—with such raw, unfiltered admiration—made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Y/N's thoughts blurred, lost in the whirlwind of sensations coursing through her. The earlier embarrassment she had felt was now a distant memory, drowned out by the overwhelming desire that consumed her. All she could focus on was Damian—how incredible his touch felt, how deeply she craved him. Every caress, every kiss was like a spark to the fire burning within her, intensifying her need for him with each passing moment.

Sensing the depth of her longing, Damian's lips began to travel lower, brushing over the soft, sensitive skin of her stomach, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. His hands followed, gentle yet firm, as they continued to explore her body. He paused briefly, lifting his gaze to meet hers, his eyes dark with desire and filled with a silent question. Y/N, breathless and unable to speak, simply nodded, her consent clear in the way her body responded to his touch.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Damian leaned down, his lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to her inner thigh, sending a shiver of anticipation through her. Every movement, every touch, was filled with a reverence that made her feel cherished, desired, and utterly consumed by the moment.

Y/N bit her lip, a soft moan escaping her as his lips moved closer to the place where she needed him most. Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her, her body trembling with anticipation as Damian continued his exploration, his mouth leaving no inch of her untouched.

When his tongue finally flicked over her sensitive core, Y/N cried out, her hips lifting off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. Damian’s grip on her tightened, holding her in place as he delved deeper, his tongue teasing and tasting her with a skill that made her head spin.

He worked her with a precision that spoke of experience, his movements deliberate and focused. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to drive her to the edge of ecstasy. Y/N’s moans grew louder, her body writhing beneath him as she lost herself in the sensation, her mind a blur of pleasure.

“Damian…” she gasped, her hands reaching for him, needing to feel him, to touch him.

Damian lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal as he crawled back up her body. He kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his tongue, and Y/N’s desire for him only intensified. She could feel him, hard and ready against her thigh, and she wanted him inside her, needed him more than anything she had ever needed before.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with the intensity of her longing.

Damian didn’t keep her waiting long. He quickly stripped away his boxers, revealing his tatted muscular body in all its glory. Y/N’s eyes roamed over him, taking in the sight of his broad shoulders, the defined muscles of his chest and abs, the way his body seemed to radiate strength and power. And then there was the hard, thick length of him, standing proudly between his legs, a clear testament to his desire for her.

Y/N swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as her eyes locked onto his. Damian’s gaze was molten with need as he climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her thighs. He leaned down, capturing her lips in another heated kiss as he guided himself to her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her wetness.

Y/N moaned softly into his mouth, her hips bucking instinctively as she sought to bring him closer. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body aching for him, for the fulfillment she knew only he could provide.

Damian groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips as he slowly began to push inside her. He moved with a deliberate slowness, inch by agonizing inch, stretching her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious combination of pleasure and pressure that had Y/N gasping for breath.

When he was fully seated inside her, Damian paused, his forehead resting against hers as they both took a moment to savor the feeling of being so intimately connected. Y/N’s breath came in shallow pants as she adjusted to the size of him, her body stretching to accommodate him in a way that felt almost sinful.

“You feel so good,” Damian whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before slowly beginning to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with a smooth, controlled thrust.

Y/N moaned, her head falling back against the pillows as she gave herself over to the sensation. Every thrust was measured, deliberate, as Damian took his time, building a slow, steady rhythm that left her trembling with need. He was relentless, driving into her with a precision that made her toes curl, each stroke sending waves of pleasure radiating out from her core.

“Damian,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his back as he increased the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. The sound of their bodies coming together filled the room, a symphony of skin against skin, punctuated by the breathless moans and gasps that fell from her lips.

Damian shifted his angle slightly, his hips rolling in a way that hit just the right spot inside her, and Y/N cried out, her body arching off the bed as a powerful surge of pleasure washed over her. He was hitting all the right places, every thrust pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Y/N’s world narrowed down to the feeling of Damian inside her, the heat of his body pressed against hers, the way he was driving her absolutely wild with every thrust. Her breath hitched as she felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in her lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with every movement.

Damian could sense her nearing the edge, and he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, as he sought to bring her to the peak of pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core and pressing down with just the right amount of pressure.

Y/N’s eyes flew open, her mouth falling open in a silent scream as the pleasure exploded within her, a white-hot burst of ecstasy that had her entire body trembling. She clung to Damian, her nails digging into his back as her orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of intense pleasure rolling through her body. Y/N's moans filled the room, her voice raw and unrestrained as she gave herself over completely to the sensation.

Damian groaned in response, his own control fraying as he felt her walls tightening around him, pulsing with the force of her climax. The way she responded to him, the way her body moved with his, was pushing him to the edge faster than he expected. But he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. He wanted to make this moment last, to savor every second of being with her like this.

He slowed his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming deep and measured as he rode out her orgasm, drawing out her pleasure until she was left trembling and spent beneath him. Y/N's breath came in short, ragged gasps as the aftershocks of her release pulsed through her, her body still clinging to Damian's with a desperate need.

But Damian wasn’t done. He wasn’t satisfied with just one climax; he wanted to see her fall apart again, to hear her cry out his name as he took her to new heights of pleasure. With that thought in mind, he shifted his position slightly, hooking one of her legs over his shoulder to change the angle of his thrusts.

Y/N gasped as the new angle sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt another wave of arousal build within her. Damian’s movements were more controlled now, each thrust precise and deliberate as he pushed her closer and closer to another climax. His hand found her clit once more, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had her hips bucking against him, chasing after that delicious friction.

“Damian, please,” Y/N whimpered, her voice desperate as she felt herself teetering on the edge once again. She was so close, so achingly close, and the need to fall over that edge was almost unbearable.

Damian’s eyes darkened at her plea, a growl rumbling in his chest as he increased the pace of his thrusts, driving into her with a renewed intensity. He could feel his own release building, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter with every thrust. But he held back, determined to bring her to the brink first.

“Y/N,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “Come for me again, baby. I want to feel you fall apart around me.”

His words were like a trigger, pushing her over the edge with a force that took her breath away. Y/N’s body tensed, her back arching off the bed as her second orgasm slammed into her, even more powerful than the first. Her vision blurred, and she cried out his name, her voice hoarse and trembling with the intensity of her release.

The sight of her coming undone beneath him, the feel of her tight, pulsing walls around him, was Damian’s undoing. With a guttural moan, he finally let go, his hips snapping against hers as he buried himself deep inside her, his release hitting him with a force that left him trembling. He groaned her name, his voice rough and low as he spilled into her, his body shuddering with the intensity of his climax.

For a moment, they were both still, their bodies locked together as they rode out the last waves of their release. Y/N’s breath came in soft, ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Damian remained above her, his arms trembling slightly as he held himself up, his breath hot against her neck.

Finally, when their breathing began to slow and the room grew quiet once more, Damian gently pulled out of her, collapsing onto the bed beside her. He immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they both basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Y/N snuggled into his chest, her body still humming with the remnants of pleasure as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

They lay like that for a long time, neither of them wanting to break the comfortable silence that had settled over them. Damian’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, his touch soothing and tender, as if he couldn’t get enough of feeling her skin against his.

Y/N sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut as she let herself relax completely in his embrace. She had never felt so at peace, so completely satisfied, as she did in that moment. Everything felt right, as if this was exactly where she was meant to be.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Damian murmured after a while, his voice soft and filled with contentment. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her voice equally soft as she nuzzled closer to him. She knew that things would be different between them now, that their relationship had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone. But she wasn’t afraid of that change. In fact, she welcomed it.

There was no need for words in that moment. They both knew what had happened, and they both knew that it was the start of something new, something beautiful. And as they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, they knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

[spiicii]

the usos / raw tag team champions

x fem!reader word count → 1.9k summary → this is literally just pwp. the usos have a breeding kink (change my mind!)  notes → thank you @wishyouloveme for the idea! and thank you @minteagalaxea and @acute-crashout-jeyuso for beta reading!  links → masterlist / taglist  tags → breeding kink, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, threesome, possessive behavior, overstimulation, degradation, crying, the twins want you pregnant so bad

“You playin’ it risky, girl.” Jimmy chuckled in your ear, his cock buried so deep inside of you that you were seeing stars. “You know we ain’t gonna be changin’ it up.” 

You knew they wouldn’t. In the year you’ve been dating the twins, they never pulled out. Never wore a condom. It was why you’d been so conscientious about taking your birth control pills in the first place. But when you’d forgotten your pills last week, you knew that you would still end up here: on your back, legs spread with both Uso twins between them, pumping you full of their seed again and again. 

“I think we’ll be okay.” You whispered, forcing your brain to focus even as Jimmy’s dick tried to turn your thoughts into radio static. “I just had my period. It isn’t time yet.” 

“Hm.” Jimmy hummed noncommittally, his thrusts never slowing even as you began to writhe beneath him. “You better hope so. Otherwise you gon end up pregnant. Is that whatchu want?” 

You shook your head, trying to focus on his words even as his pleasure shot up your spine with every thrust. Jey chuckled beside you, his fingers tangling in your hair to tug your head back. You let out a moan at the feeling, your eyes opening to meet Jey’s piercing gaze. 

“I dunno, uce. Maybe she planned this whole thing. Tryin’ to baby trap us and shit.” 

Jey’s smile was mischievous, his fingers tugging again on your hair just to hear you moan again. “Knew she was a slut, but I didn’t think she’d stoop that low.” 

You tried to shake your head but Jey’s grip on your hair made it impossible. “Please.” You gasped, your eyelids fluttering. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to.” 

“Yeah, right.” Jimmy huffed, his rough hands now grasping at your thighs to pull you closer. “You knew whatchu was doin’. Is this what you wanted, slut? For us to pump you full and knock you up? For us to make you a mama?” 

Jimmy shifted his hips and his next thrust hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, causing you to let out a cry at the feeling. Arousal and delicious heat were beginning to lick across your limbs like wildfire. 

“I guess that’s why she did it.” Jey chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple even as Jimmy’s thrusts caused you to roll your eyes into the back of your head. “But maybe she’s on to somethin’, uce. I think she’d look real pretty knocked up.” 

Their words were getting to you. The image of being pregnant with their child, not even sure which one of them was the father, was causing lightning bolts of arousal to shoot through your body. Your pussy spasmed helplessly around Jimmy’s length and he laughed, his grip on your quivering thighs tightening. 

“I think she likes it too, uce. Startin’ to think you right. Trappin’ us so we can’t ever leave her alone. That’s what you really wanted, wasn’t it, girl? Don’t wanna let us go, do you?”  

You were having trouble hearing him, the pleasure in your core beginning to overtake your other senses. And when Jimmy finally spilled inside of you, you were quick to follow, your orgasm leaving you shaking and breathless. 

Jimmy didn’t give you long to recover, quickly pulling out so that him and his brother could trade places. Jey didn’t waste any time, immediately burying himself inside of you before any of his brother’s come leaked out of your hole. You didn’t miss the way his hand pressed possessively against your stomach, right above where your womb sat. 

“Wouldn’t mind knocking you up, sweetheart.” Jey murmured, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began thrusting into you. “Think you’d make the prettiest mama. Whatchu think?” 

You didn’t have any words for him, not while his cock was filling you so perfectly. The pleasure from your last orgasm was still simmering low in your core, the tension beginning to build again. It felt impossibly wet between your legs, your juices and some of his brother’s come beginning to leak out and drip onto the mattress. 

“That whatchu want, sweetheart?” Jimmy cooed in your ear, his hands on your face as he began to pepper your cheeks with kisses. “To carry our babies? Make sure the world knows who you belong to?” 

You let out a high-pitched keen when Jey hit your g-spot again, overstimulation beginning to prick at your muscles as he began picking up the pace. He began pounding you into a new fervor, seemingly spurred on by his brother’s words. 

“And what happens when you end up with twins?” Jey asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual. “You think you can handle allat? You can barely handle the twins you got now.” 

Jey wasn’t normally one to finish quickly, but you could tell it was all getting to him. The thought of your belly round, your breasts filled with milk, carrying another Samoan into the world…it was all sending him spiraling towards orgasm much quicker than usual. You knew they loved the idea of getting you pregnant, but you hadn’t expected them to act like this the second it became a real possibility. 

Jimmy was still pressing kisses to your face, his large hand palming at one of your breasts. “You ain’t gotta do all this to get us to stick around, baby.” He teased. “You know we ain’t ever leaving you. You know we ain’t lettin’ our best girl go.” 

Jey finished inside you with a grunt, still keeping that possessive hand over your womb as he buried himself as deep as possible, ensuring you took every drop. He didn’t seem interested in pulling out, his eyes dark as he stared at you trembling beneath him. 

“Please, please, Jey…” Your voice was wrecked. “I can’t…I need…” 

“Shhh,” Jimmy was quick to shush you, kissing your sweaty forehead with a new tenderness. “I know, sweetheart. Too drunk on cock to think, ain’t you? Don’t worry, you know we gotchu.” 

Jimmy was quick to replace his brother, once again lining up at your entrance before thrusting inside again. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, the arousal and overstimulation causing your body to feel hot and feverish. Still, you couldn’t help the next word that came out of your mouth. 

“Daddy.” It came out as nothing more than a whisper, but the twins heard it all the same, both of them chuckling.

“That’s right, mamas.” Jey cooed in your ear, grabbing your jaw to meet your eyes. “Gonna knock you up and be your daddies. Just like you wanted, huh?” 

You couldn’t help but nod, the arousal building inside you once again. “Want it so bad.” You admitted, opening your legs even wider to grant Jimmy better access. “Please, I need it.” 

Jimmy’s grin was wicked. “Oh, baby. You don’t even know what you’re askin’ for.” 

*****

You knew that the twins had stamina, but you had no idea they could go for this long. You’d lost count of how many times they’d come inside you, continuing to breed you late into the night. Your cunt was sore, your body exhausted from how many times they’d made you come. You felt full now, your womb flooded with the many loads they’d given you. You weren’t even sure how they could keep going. They seemed determined to fill you to the brim, triggered by the primal urge to come inside you and get you pregnant. 

The room smelled like sex, the sheets beneath you completely soaked. You might have felt disgusted about it if you could even think. The world around you was hazy, even as you stared up at whichever twin was between your legs now. You were pretty sure it was Jimmy, but your thoughts were so scrambled you couldn’t be sure. 

“So sweet. You take it so good, baby.” 

The voice in your ear was Jimmy’s, so the cock inside you must belong to Jey. Probably. But did it really matter? 

You felt warm and euphoric, the pleasure causing your body to thrum like a live wire. You couldn’t get enough of them.

“Such a good girl.” Jey cooed, his thrusts somehow still steady despite the multiple loads he’d given you. “Knew you’d take it like a champ. Just made to be bred like this, huh?” 

It shouldn’t have been possible for him to come inside you again, but he did, leaning over you to press a sweet kiss to your cheek before pulling out again. 

“Just one more.” Jimmy whispered in your ear, already leaning up to take his brother’s place again. You knew it was a lie, but you didn’t mind, allowing him to slip inside your wetness with ease. You’d let them go all night if they wanted. 

“Daddy, please.” you whined, yet another orgasm building inside you. They were almost painful now, their perfect cocks wringing as much pleasure from you as possible. “I can’t…I don’t-”

“It’s okay, mamas.” Jey crooned in your ear, reaching up to wipe some of the sweaty hair from your forehead. “Just let go. We gotchu. It’s alright.” 

The tension snapped and you came again, somehow gushing around Jimmy’s cock as he continued to pound into you. 

“Shit, you really want a baby, huh?” Jimmy panted, his thrusts so hard you were certain your cervix would bruise. “Lemme give it to you, mama. Gonna fill you again. Gonna knock you up so everyone’ll know you’re ours.” 

It went on like this for hours. By the time they finally finished, it was almost sunrise. You knew you wouldn’t be walking for days after this, your legs completely numb from how many positions they’d put you in. You tried to shift the best you could to relieve some of the pressure on your lower back, but a hand on your inner thigh immediately stilled you. 

“Can’t waste a drop, sweetheart.” Jimmy murmured, using his fingers to stuff the come that was leaking out of your hole back in. “How else you gonna get what you want?” The feeling of his fingers prodding at your sore pussy caused shockwaves of overstimulation to wrack your body, a low moan tearing from your throat. 

“Hush, baby. It’s alright.” Jey’s arms were wrapped around you, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he held you close. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.” 

Were you crying? You couldn’t be sure, not when your thoughts were this muddled, your body feverish and oversensitive. 

“Daddy.” It seemed to be the only word you could think of, your brain struggling to formulate a coherent thought. The twins didn’t seem to mind, both of them cooing sweet words to you as they leaned over to kiss you.  

“Such a sweet girl.” One of them said, their lips soft against yours. “We’re pretty lucky our baby mama’s the prettiest of the bunch. Ain’t we, uce?” 

“Mm hm.” The other hummed in agreement. “Gonna take care of you, mamas. We ain’t going anywhere.” 

You knew they wouldn’t. You could already see it now: a little boy, his head full of dark curls and his skin a familiar bronze. He’d have Jey’s eyes and Jimmy’s smile. You couldn’t help but feel a warm glow inside you at the thought, letting a small sound of happiness as the twins placed their possessive hands above your womb. They were looking at you hopefully, no doubt thinking the same thing as you. 

Maybe forgetting your birth control pills wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

_____

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @luvrsluxe @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @solarrexplosion @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

Hi can you please do a Damian Priest x Reader where the reader and Damian are dating and she gets jealous about him and Kayden are making TikTok videos together ( I love Kayden and her videos ❤️). And a fluff at the end.

●Damian Priest x Reader●

____________________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

Sitting in the passenger's seat in my best friend Zelina Vega's car, I am scrolling on TikTok as she is driving us to our next location. I come across Kayden's video and the corner says "POV: he asks you to drive." I watch it and as the camera turns towards the passenger seat, Damian's body comes into frame making me gasp.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Kayden posted another video. And apparently she is driving Damian to the next show. When he told me he was going by himself."

"Girl.... I told you he was no good for you."

"I know. You have told me multiple times."

"Yes I have. And now he is over here taking videos with Kayden acting like they are together. Again. Maybe when we get to the hotel, you take him off your reservation for the room and make him have his own room. He didn't tell you he was going with Kayden than he can be surprised about his own hotel room when he gets there."

"I guess you are right. I am very pissed off about this."

"Give him a taste of his own medicine."

I shake my head, close my phone and lay against the seat starting to fall asleep.

____________________________________________________

*at the hotel*

We walk up to the counter and a nice lady greets us.

"Hello ladies. How may I help you?"

"I'm checking in for Y/N."

"Y/N and Damian?"

"No. Just Y/N. I don't want Damian on the reservation anymore."

"Okay. I can do that for you. Give me a few minutes."

She goes on typing on the computer while we wait. Zelina goes to another lady to check in. The lady gives me my keycard and all the information making sure Damian has been taken off the reservation. We grab our belongings and head up to our hotel rooms. I say goodbye to Zelina, swipe my card and enter my room. I throw my bags on the bed and flop down next to them. Next thing I know I am fast asleep.

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

*later in the night*

"Y/N! Y/N!"

I sit up, rub my face and try to understand why I hear someone yelling my name from the hallway. I get up putting my shirt and sweatpants back on that I apparently took off some time while I was sleeping. I walk up to the door and listen to who is shouting.

"Y/N! I will break down every one of these doors until I find you!"

"Please calm down."

I open the door and slightly look out seeing Damian looking super angry standing in the hallway and Kayden in front of him with her hands on his chest trying to get him to calm down. I open the door and lean against the doorframe crossing my arms. He sees me and pushes past Kayden walking up to me.

"Y/N! Why did you take me off our reservation?! You have someone else here?!"

He pushes me out of the way of the door and walks into my room. A tear rolls down my cheek at the questions he just asked me. He starts walking around my room looking for someone when I am the only one in my room. Kayden comes up next to me, puts a hand on my shoulder and looks in at Damian.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you in any way. If there is anyth....."

I stop her before she keeps talking.

"Its not you. You didn't do anything wrong. He lied to me. And now he thinks I'm cheating on him."

"I'm gonna go."

She turns and runs down the hallway when I turn looking at Damian who is standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. I close the door, turn to look at him and cross my arms as well.

"Care to explain why you took me off our reservation?"

"Care to explain why you lied to me and got a ride from Kayden?"

"I didn't lie to you! Kayden is my friend! I asked her to drive me because I was exhausted from having the main event of Raw! You already left with Zelina! I didn't wanna fall asleep behind the wheel!"

"You told me to leave with Zelina! That you would be fine driving by yourself! You didn't even text me to tell me you were going with Kayden! Than you keep making these tik tok videos together and everyone thinks you two are together and dating! Like you left me behind! You barely take pictures with me but you take videos with everyone else! How do you think I feel?!"

"I don't know how you feel because you never talk to me about your feelings!"

"I try but you never seem to have time to sit down and talk! You are either wrestling or hanging out with your friends! Then when you come back home to me, you go right to bed! When is there time to talk?"

He stares at me, looking like he doesn't know what to say. I wipe the tears that have seemed to start running down my face as I just laid out all my feelings to Damian. I take a deep breath and sit down on the bed.

"Y/N, I'm sorry...."

"Damian, I don't wanna hear you are sorry. I love you. But you really need to work on communication with me and spending more time with me. That's all I ask."

He kneels down in front of me putting his hands on the top of my knees looking up at me.

"Babygirl, I love you more than you will ever know. I will work on communication with you and we will spend way more time together that you might get sick of me."

I giggle looking at him. He puts his hands on my cheeks looking at me smiling.

"I promise Y/N. With my whole heart. I love you."

"I love you too."

He pulls my face to his and kisses me hard. He starts pushing me back on the bed climbing over top of me still kissing me. Seems I will be in for a long night.....

THE END.

[eringobragh420]

➔ Pairing — Damian Priest ♡ f!Reader ♡ Roman Reigns ➔ Summary — Reader has been sleeping with both Damian and Roman Reigns, confident they’re ignorant of one another. After being invited to Damian's hotel room late one night, she discovers he’s not the only one she’s there to entertain. ➔ Word Count — 2.4k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v/a, anal, double penetration, praise, Daddy kink, name-calling, cum 18+ ➔ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! ➔ Requested By — @bearbutlikeprincessbear. Hope you enjoy! ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

When she first began sleeping with Roman Reigns, she never expected, had any interest, or even needed to seek out other suitors. Until Damian Priest came along at the club, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the dance floor where their bodies moved in synchronicity, their skin perspired, and he whispered the absolute filthiest things in her ear as she was grinding her hips into his. And so while entertaining Roman, she made the easy decision to also see Damian on the side. Nothing wrong with it—none of them were attached and none of them were interested in long-term relationships—so she never foresaw any issues, considering the Tribal Chief was on one brand and the Archer of Infamy was on another, which would give them no reason to ever cross paths. Unfortunately for her, she’d been so blinded by the all the fucking, she’d failed to consider the paid live events.

And so here she was, on her knees and elbows on a generic hotel bed with generic, scratchy hotel blankets under her. Her baby pink blazer and white satin tank top were heaps on the floor, matching mini-skirt bunched around her waist, panties in tatters around her thighs. Damian’s long cock buried itself in her tight cunt every few seconds, the momentum shoving her forward and impaling her throat further on Roman’s spit-covered, thick cock. She gagged, body convulsing, but she purred from the intrusion—on both ends—as her eyes rolled back and her cheeks hollowed.

“Fuck,” Damian wailed, hands vices on her hips. “Every time she gags, her cunt fuckin’ milks my dick.”

“You hear that, baby girl?” Roman rumbled. He was seated in front of her, back against the headboard, legs spread lewdly, a woman receiving the pounding of the century from behind slobbering all over his cock. She tilted her head so she could comfortably look up at him. “He likes it when you gag almost as much as I do.” Both his hands cradled the back of her skull as he pushed her down on his length once more, her entire being again contracting, and suddenly Damian wasn’t inside her anymore and she felt abandoned and empty and a little fucking pissed off. 

“Uh-uh,” the Puerto Rican refused. She pulled off Roman’s dick, however reluctantly, and glanced over her shoulder. Damian had backed up several steps and he had a hand virtually strangling his polished-with-pussy-juices cock. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now.”

Roman tenderly cupped her chin between his fingers and turned her face back to him. “You ready?”

She cast her gaze down at Roman’s weeping, rigid cock as he stroked it with a loose fist, and she bucked her hips and clenched her pussy around nothing. Roman’s chuckle was like thunder in the distance, and it did nothing to suppress her agitation or prevent the baby pterodactyls in her stomach from taking flight. She had no idea what awaited her, having never experienced before what was about to happen, but she couldn’t deny how bad she wanted to at least try it … to at least attempt to get both these impressive cocks inside her ass and pussy at the same time. And she couldn’t think of two better men to experience it with. Her blown pupils slowly lifted to meet Roman’s.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Good,” Roman replied, before the declaration was even completely out of her mouth. He leaned forward so his fleshy lips grazed hers as he finished, “Because it’s this dick right here that’s goin’ in that ass.” He wiggled his cock for good measure, and it wasn’t very quiet when she gulped.

The men were fluid as they moved about the room, as if they’d practiced, as if maybe they’d done this before. Heading off any thoughts in that particular direction, she smiled as she climbed atop Damian. His grip was once again on her hips, and her hips throbbed and she might’ve winced a time or two when he squeezed, but she knew this pain paled in comparison to the new kind of pain that was in her immediate future. She sank torturously slowly onto his cock, her soaking pussy sucking him in deep much like her throat had with Roman’s dick.

“There she is,” Damian breathed, fingers gliding from her hip, tickling her belly, scraping a nipple barely peeking above the cup of the bra she still curiously wore, ending their journey at the back of her neck. He pulled her lips to his, capturing them, imprisoning them with his expert technique and unmatched ability to be both delicate and voracious simultaneously. A cold trickle slipped down the crack of her ass, her body froze, and she severed the kiss. Damian was quick to cradle her face and focus her attention on him and not the pain and discomfort about to befall her. Maybe you should stop thinking about it that way. Maybe it’s gonna feel amazing. It’s Damian and Roman, after all. “If you don’t wanna do this, we can stop right now,” Damian whispered, the tips of their noses kissing.

She gazed into his smoldering eyes, easily finding comfort and true sincerity, and her hand floated to his cheek. “I wanna do this,” she murmured.

Damian once more claimed her mouth while Roman’s finger circled her puckered hole, and it tickled and it was a little weird, but then it felt … good. Incredibly erotic, and her pussy gushed around Damian’s cock. He pumped in and out of her slowly, occupying her mouth and tongue, and before she knew it, Roman had three fingers buried in her asshole, and she was virtually screaming down Damian’s throat, rocking her hips to ride both his dick and Roman’s digits.

“Oh, your ass is ready for this cock, ain’t it?” Roman teased, easing his fingers out of her so he could slap her ass cheek with his length. “Cute little tattoo,” he uttered, now rubbing the leaking head along her sensitive skin, and she knew exactly where he was spreading his precum. She’d never even imagined a scenario where Roman and Damian randomly met at the hotel bar, shared a few drinks, and then a few stories about the women they were sleeping with only to discover those women had the exact same tattoo in the exact same spot, but here they were. “Let’s find out if it’s true, huh?” That hadn’t been the meaning behind the beautiful red script spelling out the word paradise on her right cheek, but she supposed it did seem appropriate now. She hoped, anyway.

She felt the fleshy head of his cock poke at her entrance and her hand left Damian’s face to instead dig her nails into his chest. She felt blood before she was without warning hauled backward, shoulders slamming into Roman’s sturdy chest, and she cried out as he slipped further into her passage. Roman was a true dominant, in and out of the ring, in and out of the bedroom, so it wasn’t very far fetched for her to expect to be degraded, at least a little, for not immediately being able to take his length, or for whining in pain as he pressed another inch inside her. His tattooed arm came into view, fingers applying surprisingly gentle pressure on her chin until she turned to him.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he praised. Her eyes lifted, full of renewed hope,  determination, and pride. Compliments in a non-derisive way were few and far between, and she intended to bathe in the accolades for as long as possible. “I know it hurts, baby girl, but you’re a fuckin’ champion. You hear me? Our champion.” Her heart swelled and her fingers unconsciously slid down her body and directly into her dripping folds where she found her clit and, just a little further inward, the base of Damian’s glazed cock, the rest of which was still stuffed deeply inside her cunt. Damian grunted and squirmed, and her smile was drunk as she stared blankly at her Tribal Chief, hypnotized by Roman’s unusual softness. “See, that was nothin’.”

Snapping out of her reverie, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being utterly full. Roman had genuinely mesmerized her with his words, with the bottomless pits that were his eyes, and he’d sheathed himself to the hilt in her ass without her noticing. Now fully aware, however, the burning returned, the splitting, and she whimpered, clawing at Roman’s arm now. Easily noticing her stress, Damian untangled her from the Samoan’s embrace and pulled her back down to him, cradling the back of her head and splaying a hand across her upper back.

“Right here,” he rumbled into her gaping mouth, “stay right here with Papi. You hear me?”

She nodded, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Damian’s soulful ones, and her lips collided with his before she knew it. He was her comfort, her weighted blanket, her favorite teddy bear, and the spell he cast on her through his lingering lips kept her mind occupied as Roman gripped her hips, pulled out, and shoved himself back in as if he were fucking her pussy. It hurt, bordering on agonizing, but Damian’s mouth was so perfect and gifted that it hurt just a little bit less, the three of them going on like this until she’d fully accepted Roman with an amount of pain that was both uncomfortable and pleasurable. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Roman panted. When she gave no answer, he snatched her hair and yanked, her lips releasing Damian’s with a wet smack.

“Yes, Daddy, I love it,” she breathed.

“Yeah, you do,” Roman mumbled. “Show me. Ride these dicks like the whore you are.”

Hands on the bed on either side of Damian, she rose until her elbows locked. Damian’s hands were coarse and callused as they traveled the invisible roads of her upper body, and she smiled down at him as she began gently rocking her hips, drawing the cocks within her ass and pussy as deep inside her as possible before releasing them to the cold air surrounding them, repeating the process until she couldn’t bounce fast enough on them. 

“That’s it,” Damian moaned, “just like that.”

“Shit, all you need is a cock for this mouth, huh?” Roman mocked, giant hand wrapping around her throat. “What you think about that, Priest? Plug up all this bitch’s holes.”

“Fuck,” Damian muttered, pinching and tugging at her nipples.

She screamed, jaw dropping, and Roman’s hand was swift in making the relocation from her neck to her face, long fingers dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically closed around his digits and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked because what else is a girl supposed to do when Roman Reigns sticks his fingers in her mouth?

Time went on, doused in a mixture of sweat, screams, desire, and the fundamental need to cum. Roman lost control first, hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her chest into Damian’s, and he leaned forward, most of his weight now on her hips and ass as he fucked into her recklessly. He cried out—she thought he was speaking Samoan, but she couldn’t be sure—releasing himself inside her, and his pumps became slower and less powerful until he pulled out altogether, slapping her tattoo once more with his softening dick.

“Y’all can … take care of that, right?” He had to be referring to the mess he’d just made that would eventually come leaking out of her. “I got somewhere to be.”

The relief alone she felt when only Damian was buried within her nearly sent her head first into an orgasm. It had been a wild moment, an experience she could check off her bucket list, but she’d be lying if she denied feeling a bit stressed at the thought of being responsible for pleasing two men. Of course it was a hot idea, but realistically, the logistics were a bit more muddled than she cared to deal with again. And, though she would never admit this to anyone, especially the two men involved, she preferred Damian and his attentiveness and his kindness and the gentle fucking he was famous for. Roman was the choice when she needed to be used or slapped around. Damian was the choice for everything else.

“We’ll take care of it,” Damian mumbled, and she smiled just as he seized her lips once more. 

She hardly registered the hotel room door opening and closing, Damian flipping their positions smoothly, putting her on her back and settling between her sticky thighs. Her hands glided reverently up his chest, squeezing his shoulders, continuing to his face.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, taking her hands off him one after the other, imprisoning them between his hands and the mattress on either side of her head, his grip secure, though not constricting.

“Yeah,” she purred, rolling her hips in an attempt to find some friction, and Damian grinned at her desperation. 

“But you need your special time with Papi, hmm?”

“I always need my special time with Papi.”

Finally he started fucking her, lazily at first, gradually picking up speed. She suddenly felt Roman’s warm cum begin leaking out of her ass and into a puddle on the bed, Damian’s thrusts now coming with a wet smack every time he slammed into her. She gasped, lips parting, pussy pulsating around Damian’s solid length, breasts bouncing, and she came with a wail she would be embarrassed over later. Her hands were fists as they wanted nothing more than to touch Damian, feel him, run her fingers through his hair, but he refused to release her until after he’d filled yet another one of her holes with sticky cream.

“You’re a mess,” Damian grinned, climbing out of bed. She couldn’t help the satiated smile and stretch as she watched Damian disappear into the bathroom, assuming he was on a mission to retrieve a wet washcloth. They were gonna need more than that, she thought, just as she heard the water in the tub come to life, and her smile nearly broke her mouth. “Now let’s get you cleaned up,” Damian returned, clapping his hands and holding them out. She rolled her eyes, moving into a sitting position, but Damian suddenly scooped her into his capable arms, tossing her an inch or two in the air to get a better grip. “I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us, but …”

“I guess you’ll just have to wash me from outside the tub then,” she sighed.

Damian kissed her forehead. “My pleasure.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Papi — Daddy