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retro-rezz-the-est · 2 years ago

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Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

Summary: Immediately after his devastating loss to his cousins Jimmy and Jey at Money In The Bank, Roman finds you in the back as he looks for an outlet for all of this newfound pent-up energy…but this may lead to something else as well.

Word Count: 14,197 (jfc that's more than I expected)

Warnings: degradation, choking/throat squeezing, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), edging (for both parties involved), unprotected P in V action (please be safe and wrap it before you tap it irl tho), Roman being his Tribal Chief self (because that’s a warning all on its own), a bit of manhandling here and there as well….y’know, the works :3

A/N: All of this comes from three connecting factors: 1) Roman being the sexy ass WHORE that he is, 2) my own brain finally starting to work in tandem with my damn writing fingers, and 3) an all-caps DM from @stargazerofgoldenwords demanding that I write this so full partial blame goes to her. So here y’all go…for the bitches and the bros and for all the non-binary hoes ^3^ (I also haven’t written a full-fledged smut in I believe over three years so….I hope I did good lol)

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

How is this even possible? What’s going to happen now?

These thoughts and more rush through your mind as you stand board stiff in the back, your eyes seeming to be permanently glued to the large monitor in front of you while gasps and cheers from the remainder of the locker room fill your ears alongside the blaring bass of The Usos’ theme.

Roman told you to stay in the back for a reason, to only come out after he’d won and embarrassed the hell out of his cousins for ever turning their backs on him, so he could make examples out of them as a reason to never and not turn your back on the Tribal Chief.

He wanted them to remember this night, to remember the ache in their bones, the wear and tear of their joints as he slammed them against the mat over and over again, the blood and sweat staining their skin as he and Solo dug into the twins with everything they had left within them.

They would learn their lesson tonight, and they would learn it well: you do not mess with the Tribal Chief because if you do, you will feel a pain that you have never known before.

He was going to show everyone why he and he alone was the head of the table, why he was unstoppable, and why only those who followed him and his lead would prosper in the end.

But, none of that actually mattered in the end, not as you stand staring at the monitor, hands covering your mouth in shock.

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

Jey pinned Roman, pinned him for the first time in over three fucking years.

Blow after blow to the foundation of The Bloodline, week after week from the cracks being exposed to Sami’s turn at the Royal Rumble that set everything in motion to the goddamn explosion that occurred during Roman and Solo’s Night of Champions match.

After all this time, The Usos finally got one over on the Tribal Chief, they won the Bloodline civil war.

They beat the Tribal Chief, destroyed his so-called “Island of Relevancy”, showed the world that he is still just a man and can be beaten just like the rest of them. Roman Reigns is not as invincible as he claims to be!...

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

You can see it all processing in his eyes in real time, all of the noise around you fading into the background along with the roaring cheers from the London crowd: his loss, being pinned, the fact that despite being a champion he has lost his stance, his placement at the head of the table.

Because what use is there of an Island of Relevancy if you’re the only one standing on it?

Your hands drop from your mouth and fall to your sides; how the hell…? What the hell is happening? Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as those around you celebrate his demise, hands clapping shoulders and drinks beginning to be passed around as the show draws to a close.

You can practically see the floor falling out beneath Roman’s feet as he slides out of the ring, dejected and defeated with a raging inferno blazing bright and hot behind those fierce eyes of his; his entire world, perfectly constructed with seemingly no flaws whatsoever, has shattered in front of his very eyes.

Rage twisted and contorted Roman’s facial features into something unrecognizable as he sat on the floor ringside, kicking his feet and screaming his anger out into the universe like a temperamental child. Baring his teeth, hissing and gnashing his jaw like an uncaged animal…

Frankly, it scared the shit out of you to see live.

He’s shaking, actually shaking with all of the hate and virtiol that courses through his very veins. The bright lights of the arena, hot and beaming down on his skin? The way his hair sticks to the sides of his face and the heavy furrow in his brow? The way his entire body aches from the brutal punishment of the match?

None of that matters now. None of it will ever matter now.

His anger, his regret, his disappointment with himself as he comes to terms with the true loss of yet another faction of his, people who he loved and cared for turning their backs on him again…his mind was a maelstrom as he gripped his face and pulled at his temple, and not even the pain from that could distract him from the truth in front of his very eyes.

His own family, his own blood, has betrayed him, the image of Jimmy and Jey standing above him displaying on every and all of the large screens inside the arena. His heart pounds in his chest and hs blood boils; they can’t just get away with this. They will pay for their crimes against him, against their family, against their Bloodline!

The blood, the sweat, the tears and the pain he had poured into their family, all the work that he had put in to make sure that they all ate, that they all got opportunity after opportunity after opportunity….all for nothing.

You watch as Solo picks himself up from the floor and stumbles his way over to Roman, Paul’s face a complete mess and whirlwind of emotions as he rushes over with Roman’s smorgasbord of titles cradled like infants within his arms. You can barely hear what the latter is saying to the Tribal Chief over the cheers of The Usos’ celebrating and their theme blaring through the speakers, but it’s most likely some sort of consolation and a promise of revenge due to the bright red of the shorter man’s face.

Even after all of this, after everything that these men have just gone through, Jimmy still attempts to reach out to comfort Roman as he sits ringside on the floor, you watching as Jey pulls him back to his own side; Roman is a lost cause to them now. In their eyes, they’ve destroyed his corrupted faction, they’ve cut off the hydra’s heads, and now?

Now, they’re done with him, with all things Bloodline-related as the descend back into being “the ones”.

They are the new Tribal Chiefs around these parts, not Roman.

Not anymore.

After what feels like an eternity of the fallen party sitting in stasis outside of the ring, they all stand, Roman wrapping an arm around his midsection and another hand around his shoulder as they all walk backwards back up the long runway.

His eyes stay locked onto his cousins as the camera pans from him to them and back again, Solo’s eyes filled with an incoming storm and Paul’s lips seeming to move at a mile a minute with how quickly he seems to throw insults the way of The Usos.

But the two in the ring just smile.

They smile and embrace each other after a hard won victory as the entire WWE Universe embraces them as well, and all that does is piss Roman off even more.

Your body somehow finds the will to move, your feet ungluing themselves from the floor beheath them before you begin to move your way through the small crowd of those watching from the back.

You tear your eyes away from the monitor you were watching and beeline it straight to the guerilla position where they’re set to return, and you can still hear the thunderous cheers coming from the fans as Jimmy and Jey continue to celebrate the fall of the Tribal Chief. Maneuvering your way through throngs of people, past production, past *everything*...you have to find him.

You have to find him, and fast.

It’s like your feet barely even graze the ground with how fast you walk, the light tapping of your heels echoing off the walls around you as you make your way closer and closer to Roman and…oh.

You can just barely see him over the heads and past the shoulders of the cameramen, the interviewers waving their mics in their faces, over the glinting bald heads of Pearce and Hunter that’re shining with sweat as they attempt to get a word in with Roman before they try to rush him in the direction of where the press conference is being held…but it’s as though he doesn’t see any of them, his eyes dark and filled to the brim with something nasty.

You’re not even the prime target of his glare, steel-cut and piercing all that come across it, and even you feel the brunt of it, shivering where you stand behind the cloud of people vying for his attention as he moves his way through them. For the reporters and the interviewers, their mics in shaking hands as cameras flash in his face, all of their questions die on their tongues the second his eyes sweep over them.

“Roman. Roman!” you hear Pearce call out to him, Hunter, Solo, and Heyman in tow close to his heels. “Damn it, Roman, listen to me!”

“We need to get you out there, Reigns. Just give a quick statement about the match, about The Usos, and then-”

Pearce and Hunter’s requests fall on deaf ears as you move to the side, the crowd of people following Roman’s path as he walks down one of the arena’s large halls.

“Excuse you, Hunter? Did you not just see the utter and complete farce that was the match our Tribal Chief just had?! There will be no statement to be made, and no appearance at any press conference shall be had unless it involves the absolute dismissal of what was clearly a farce of a loss!”

Paul’s demands make his face grow a bright red as he follows Roman, clutching his titles as his head seems to grow three sizes from the fury written across his face. “Jimmy and Jey, they’re cheaters! Conmen who have embarrassed your Tribal Chief in front of millions of people time and time again! We demand retribution! A rematch to set things right again! Do you know how much Roman Reigns has brought to this company? How much prestige he’s brought to these titles, to these championships?”

Paul jostles the titles in question in his arms, brows furrowed and steam practically pouring out of his ears. “This is an outrage! This is a scam! You two should be ashamed of yourselves for even allowing this to happen to a force like Roman Reigns-”

His incessant, constant stream of words and potential curses are paused by Solo’s hand slamming into his chest, Heyman’s eyes going wide as his mouth falls open before quickly closing it and stepping back to Roman’s side.

Roman pauses his stride, eyeing Hunter and Pearce so viciously that you yourself are shrinking into your own skin; he very clearly doesn’t want to be bothered right now, so why even try to ask him of anything at all?

The look he gives both men, the silent communications that occur between them seems to be more than enough for them to back off in their pursuits, stepping out of his way as their phones begin to ring constantly.

“We have to get some sort of response out of him, right? I mean, he’s the champion right now, we can’t just let him leave-”

“Let him cool off for a second, Pearce,” Hunter tells him, running a hand over his own stressed face. “He’s in no mood for any of that right about now.”

Roman continues to shove past and maneuver around those in his way, his steps as loud and threatening as his demeanor. Through and through, seconds by seconds that seem to stretch on forever until his eyes finally, finally gloss over your figure leaning on a nearby wall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your mind begins to turn.

And the very second that his gaze locks onto yours, time slows to a screeching halt.

There’s something in there that you rarely saw in him before, but that you’ve been seeing a lot more of recently.

That anger, that frustration, all of that adrenaline mixed all that hate and vitriol coursing through his veins…he needed to get all of it out, every last drop before he makes another misstep.

He needs you.

Shouldering his way past various sports reporters and camera people, he quickly makes his way across the hallway to you, his large figure towering over you as you begin to shrink further and further against the wall. He’s panting, partly from the resulting emotions following his match and partly from how rough the match in question ran his body.

His hand finds your wrist, gripping it tightly and without a single word from him, he pulls you from the wall and begins to walk away again, Solo and Heyman striding behind him while the media frenzy behind you all follows along.

“Roman, wait-”

He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with you again, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know.

Not now.

All the words you were going to say fall right back down your throat and you gulp, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak as you try your best to keep up with his pace. It doesn’t take long for your group to head back to his larger-than-anyone-else’s locker room, Solo being the last one inside as he shuts everyone else out besides himself, Heyman, you and Roman.

Paul quickly sets the championship belts aside on a nearby table while Roman runs a hand through his hair, running a hand over his face before taking a seat on one of the benches.

It’s quiet in here, all too quiet albeit for the clamoring noise outside…and this silence does not make you feel hopeful at all.

You all just…sit in that silence for a few minutes, stewing in it as the reality of what had just occurred mere moments ago finally sinks in for all parties involved.

“Wise man…”

All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.

“Leave us.”

That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”

“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”

His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.

“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.

“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief in due time. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”

Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…

…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.

Being in a space with Roman Reigns, you can feel how much of himself fills it: his aura, his stance, his voice, his demeanor…no matter how big or small a room, you can damn well tell that Roman’s in there. You could practically sense it in the air when he arrives, hairs rising on your firearms as all around you grow silent. However, as long as you are not his prime target, you will most likely walk out of that room unscathed - emphasis on most likely.

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

All of those feelings? All of those senses get hiked up to an eleven, the very room that the person is in feeling as though it’s shrinking around them as it seemingly pushes them closer and closer together.

And you, right now, are that poor soul in question.

Your hands grip the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, the one that he gave to you and told you to wear once you were supposed to come out after the match was over…after he was supposed to win - nervously, your eyes falling to the floor and sticking to the shoes that you wear.

You see Roman’s feet walking towards you before they pause, then moving in the opposite direction as they head towards the locker room door as well…only this time, your heart rate rockets straight to the moon once you hear the sharp clicking of the door’s lock turning, that noise bouncing off the walls of your mind like an echoing cavern.

The silence in the room is unbearable with a tension so thick, you can cut right through it with Roman’s steely gaze. It’s all too warm, too stuffy, too suffocating while you stand there, your teeth making a home in your bottom lip as you shift from foot to foot.

What do you say to him? What do you say at all? Do you commend him on a match well performed? Do you take Heyman’s route and curse Jimmy and Jey’s names until the breath runs clean from your lungs and you’re all hot in the face as well? Do you take Solo’s approach to things and just say…nothing? Nothing at all?

What can you possibly do to even try to rectify things for him? Make things any better than they are at this moment in time?

All of these questions and more surround your brain and hold it hostage, unable to think of anything else. Is there anything that you can do to make him feel better? You’re supposed to be his, his girl…but with something as monumentally damaging to him as tonight was, so is there anything that you can do?

You don’t even notice him making his way towards you until he’s almost directly in front of you, watching your every movement like an unbound predator stalking its oblivious prey. The room around you grows way too hot way too fast as he continues to move your way, his footsteps soft yet booming as loudly in your ears as your own heartbeat.

As he takes one step forward towards you, you take an equal one back. One step forward, one step back.

One forward, one back, and this little game of yours goes on and on and on until you’re cornered up against the furthest wall, Roman’s hands pressing against the wall at the sides of your face. His chest nearly touches yours in the process and its rise and fall nearly matches the way your own does but you hold your breath and pray to the gods.

For what, you wonder?

For solace? For comfort? For a way out from his grasp, or a way to sink further beneath it? Space to breathe or to suffocate in all that is Roman Reigns? Entirely everything from him and absolutely nothing of him all at once? You don’t even know for sure but unfortunately, those prayers are left unheard and unanswered.

You hear him call your name, the syllables he speaks wrapped in a depth that twists and turns your very core. He doesn’t have to say much to grab your attention, after all.

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

You can’t even bring yourself to do that, lest you wish to crumble beneath his unwavering gaze.

However, Roman is not one to take no for an answer; he never really has, especially nowadays. So when he speaks to you again, the very atmosphere of the locker room seems to shift and change under his words, underneath the dominance that is just solely and utterly him.

“I said, look at me.”

His fingers are suddenly underneath your chin, thumb and forefinger gripping it with just enough force to pull a strained noise from the back of your throat as he forcefully tilts your chin up so that you have to look up at him.

The soft gasp that you let out when you finally look up at him, into those dangerous eyes of his…you can see what it does to him by the roll of his shoulders as he stands to his full height, towering above you so much so that the too-bright lights that illuminate the locker room get blocked out.

You didn’t really get the chance to truly look at him through the monitor you were watching the match from and not even as he stampeded his way through the throngs of people all vying for his attention…but now?

Right here, in this moment, any and all words you could have possibly said to him evaporate on your tongue as your feet remain glued to the floor, your pulse thrumming through your entire body.

The wide panes of his chest stretch with each and every deep breath that he takes, his heart beating so damn loud that it fills the room and suffocates all other noise besides it. You feel the leather of his glove brushing against your chin where it wraps around his fingers, the force behind his grip being just strong enough to let you know not to mess with him.

Roman’s entire form from the waist up glistens with sweat and you can already see the soon-to-be bruises on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen already begin to show.

His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been before as he towers above you, slightly panting while his aura threatens to swallow you whole. There’s an obvious anger lingering within them, the deep-set betrayal and agony over losing his family and his undefeated streak finally sinking in along with the newfound uncertainty of the future to come…but there’s something else there in those eyes of him, something that makes sweat bead out along your brow and has your thighs clenching together as you dig your teeth into your lip so hair that it nearly bleeds.

Something more.

Roman sees this, what he does to you, and has to resist the urge to crack a smirk; you’re so easy to toy with. He can barely say a word to you, can just look at you only to have you a trembling, whimpering mess before him.

It’s reasons like these that drives his need for you so through the roof, and tonight means no different to him at all.

Just as he thought, you let out a whimper when you meet his eyes, your body threatening to go limp in his hold. His presence is just so much and it does so much more to you than you’re ever willing to say, but you absolutely love it either way.

You don’t notice him beginning to lean in closer to your own face, too stunned to even think of moving before he’s all that you can possibly see, his hair almost framing your own face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as it fans out over your face, spicy and hot and smelling of the cinnamon gum you saw him chewing earlier in the day. He tilts your face in the opposite direction, sighing as his eyes leave yours before he leans forward to press his face against the crook of your neck, burying his nose against the skin while the hand that remains on the wall curls into a fist.

Another gasp leaves your throat when he steps forward again, your hands unchelching themselves from where they rest at the hem of your - his - shirt as his chest presses against yours, warm and built and smothering in all the right places. When you raise your arms up from your sides to run your fingertips up his chest, over his shoulders, over his forearms, you can feel him just barely shiver beneath your touch.

His body calls out for you just as yours does him, and you can feel the buzz of all the energy still coursing through him, driving him up the wall as he leans further into your touch. And when you flatten your hands against his skin, the groan that he lets out rolls through our entire body, his chest vibrating against yours.

You feel him moving against your neck and you stretch further to the side to give him room, his lips forming into words that he wouldn’t dare say aloud with others nearby as his gloved hand moves from your chin to grip the base of your neck.

You know what this is, you know what this means; you’ve been here in this position before with him, especially much more recently with all of this newfound familial drama that’s dropped itself at the other end of his table.

With the seemingly endless amounts of adrenaline crawling beneath his skin, the cinching, tight feeling of his skin and the burning sensation that bubbles deep within his core, it’s no wonder why he’s cornered you like this, why he’s closing in on you, why he’s so bent on draping you in him.

I need you, baby, please.

Those spoken yet unspoken words he uttered into your skin make your eyes widen as a similar heat begins to spark within your own core, Roman trapping your leg between his own and pressing his cock against your thigh. It makes your skin crawl in the best ways possible, what he does to you, the anticipation mixed with everything that he just is making your mind hazy.

Your hands rise from his shoulders up the base of his neck, curving further up towards his hair before wrapping your fingers through it and gently pulling his head back up to face you, your eyes meeting his once more (how the hell did they manage to get even darker?).

Despite the fear that runs through your veins, despite your hands being in his hair and on his skin as you lead him towards you, he’s still the boss around here.

Roman still calls all the shots, no matter who or what stands before him - including you.

And even despite that as well, your body still wants him just as much as he wants yours.

It’s not even a want anymore; your body needs him, it desires him.

As for Roman, your body, your comfort calls out to him like a siren’s song, wanting him to pull you deeper and deeper into whatever’s going on within his own head until your entire body knows nothing but him, nothing but your Tribal Chief.

The fatigue that you know he feels is beginning to set into his bones, into his soul, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he needs you, more so than he ever has in the past.

The sparks are beginning to show between the two of you; there’s nothing in this world like spending a night with someone like Roman Reigns, and you’re about to experience that firsthand once again.

You see the slight raise of his brow as he scans your face, that miniscule action asking you for permission, for your go-ahead, for you to allow him to lose himself within you and to use you as he sees fit for the time being…

…and the nod that you give him right back is all that he needs to see.

It’s the only thing that he needs to see before surging forward to plant a searing kiss to your lips, the fist that’s curled against the wall, moving down to grip your waist as tightly as the hold he has on your neck, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt that adorns your figure.

You only get about half a second of realization before you notice that he’s on you, completely covering you with his body as he presses you up against the wall even more. Your hands move from his hair down his neck, grazing his jaw lightly before your nails begin to dig into the exposed meat of his shoulders.

He’s actively stoking the fire that’s now beginning to blaze within you, and you absolutely love it.

The leg that’s not actively trapped between his now finds itself wrapped around his waist right as Roman’s tongue slides between your lips, curling with and against your own before quickly taking over the kiss. And you let him, of course; he needs this, he needs you, and you’re willing to give him whatever’s necessary to satiate his incessant energy.

The way he knows how to pluck your body like a finely tuned instrument with the way he pulls moans and gasps from you, the drag of fabric on skin, the way his body seems to move perfectly in-sync with your own, pushing and pulling until the two of you radiate more hear than the core of the sun…there’s just something about kissing Roman that makes your toes curl and your cheeks ripe with heat just by thinking about it, let alone actually doing the deed.

It’s all fiery passion and full of the aggression he shows in the ring, the possessive nature he has over you to keep you close and a part of him always, the need to show you exactly who you belong to as he pulls you in so damn close that all you can even think to experience is just him and him alone…it’s a conglomerate mixture of beauty and pain and pleasure and you're drinking in every single drop of it.

You feel his teeth begin to sink into your bottom lip, the contact against the already red and raw flesh making you jump in his arms as he tugs on it harshly before letting go. Your eyes, hooded and blown out, meet his again, and you can practically read the words in his mind as his thumb reaches up to lightly brush over it.

You don’t get to do that, anymore. Only I can do that to you.

You watch as he thumbs over your lip again before coming back in for another kiss, your teeth nearly clashing against each other from how harsh the two of you collide. It’s messy, a battle of tongue and teeth that turns in his favor so damn fast, and you can’t resist the urge to just crumble beneath it.

Your arms loop around his neck and hold him as close to you as possible, not wanting to part from him for even a second until your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen so you’re practically forced to. But even that isn’t enough to stop the contact between the two of you, your nails digging into any piece of his exposed skin that you can possibly reach.

The smell of him fills your brain and flows through your very veins, hands holding onto you for dear life while his kiss steals all sense from your mind. Roman has always been able to do this but tonight, you lower your guards and have him take the reins (no pun intended), have him lead the way, follow his motions.

And his motions lead him to start moving backwards, pulling you away from the wall as your leg falls from his waist. Lips still furiously locked with yours, he effortlessly maneuvers the two of you away from the corner and towards a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

You thought you could feel him before while he captured you in his stare against the wall, helpless to anything but exactly what he wanted to do with you?

Well, think again.

Your pelvis presses right up against his and the two of you let out a combined moan, your breaths mixing together before he shifts you over his thighs to press you against him even more. You start rocking yourself back and forth on his cock through the dark cargo pants that he wears, feeling it throb and jump with every pass. And your desire for his grows as well, the space between your thighs growing more damp by the second with your juices beginning to now stain your inner thighs.

The small shorts that you wear underneath Roman’s large shirt soon grow more uncomfortable than you’re willing to bear and Roman seemingly notices this as well, running his thumbs over the skin above your ass before not so gently pulling them down your legs. The second you feel the hit your ankles you kick them to the floor below, not giving a damn where they land as your lips remain slotted with his own.

Your hands run down the planes of his chest and circle your fingertip over the space above Roman’s heart, feeling the thrum of energy coursing through his being. His own hands run over your thighs, over the curve of your ass and up your spine as you shift even closer to him, the feeling of your soaked panties as they rub against the bulge in his pants making you pant against his mouth.

You feel his hands drift under the hem of your shirt, the mix of his skin and the leather of the glove he still wears making sparks fly. His lips move from your own down your jaw, the force behind the action making you gasp. Across your skin and over the curve of your ear, down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbone; there’s nowhere that’s left untouched by his eager mouth while his hands roam the heated skin beneath your top.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, causing your entire body to tremble with anticipation right before you feel the sharp stinging of his teeth digging into your flesh, a moan much louder than you should have let out escaping you. Roman’s tongue joins the fray as well, soothing the sting of his bite with each one that he gives you.

One by one, one after another he lays claim to your skin, a reminder to the entire world that despite everything, that despite everyone in his life…he still has you.

He still has you and you’ve let him have you.

The need to feel him, to feel his body even more so consumes your entire mind, your soul, your being, so you take the initiative and grip the hem of your shirt and raise it up your body, pulling it over your head and tossing that to the floor alongside your discarded shorts.

The bra that covers your chest is a lacy one, the same shade of bright red that adorns the glove on his right hand that matches right along with the panties that just barely cover your ass. ‘Figured that you might need a distraction in hindsight. I hope you like it…”

Your voice is small in volume but loud in its tone as you speak, quickly glancing down at his chest where your nails dig into the meat of his pectorals as he raises his head from the crook of your neck, your skin alight and buzzing from him marking it.

Oh, he likes it, alright. He fucking loves it.

Roman’s hands reach up to trace the details in the fabric, his thumb brushing over your nipple and making you arch into his touch. His brows slightly raise with intrigue; this was probably a surprise for him later, for when he won his match…well, not anymore.

Now, the sight of you in this number, one that you had put on just for him, mixed with the need lacing your voice and the lust swimming within your vision…it’s all so much, damn near too much for him to bear, his cock now actively throbbing and throbbing in the confines of his pants.

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

His low tone shakes you right out of your lust-fueled haze, your eyes snapping open as you pant on his lap.The darkness swirling around within his eyes shows he means business and what Roman wants, Roman gets in spades.

You try your best to move from him, to escape the warmth and desire he’s so graciously provided for you in his own time of need but your methods of moving prove too slow for his tastes, Roman’s non-gloved hand reaching up to yank your head back by your roots, you yelping at the sudden pain.

“What is with you all not fucking listening to me today? I said, I want you on your goddamn knees, now.”

You try your best to nod with his hand in your hair, swallowing down the pathetic noise that threatens to break free before scrambling off his lap and sinking to your knees on the locker room floor, never once breaking eye contact with him as you begin to watch him tear his glove off. The sharp ripping of the velcro cuts through the thick fog that’s filled the air , leather being pulled between his teeth until finally, the damned thing is off and is tossed aside as well, his hand returning to the back of your neck.

Spreading his legs for you as slowly as he possibly can, he keeps your head solely directed at the intimidating bulge that lies within his pants, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his own eyes and what lies ahead for your future.

Roman’s nothing if not a beast, both in and out of the ring, and you can’t help but shudder when you gently plant your palms on the outsides of his thighs, looking up at him with the widest eyes you can possibly muster up.

You lick your lips nervously, your heart beating even faster in your chest as he literally talks down to you, your hands beginning to nervously run up his covered thighs as they make their way to his zipper.

And with each notch of its teeth that come undone, with every second that passes that turns into a minute and then to an hour, you manage to push past the nerves that run wild through your veins and undo his pants, slipping your fingers beneath the dark boxer briefs he has on and tugging them down along with his pants to reveal the true monster that lies before you.

Roman’s cock falls from its confines with a dull thud as the head connects with his stomach, leaving a clear splotch of pre-cum where it lands.

The shape of his cock, thick as a tree trunk and just as heavy and absolutely perfect as it is…the space between your thighs aches with the countless memories you have of him fucking you senseless with it,pounding into you and making you see stars over and over again-

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do here, princess. Or, are you too much of a dumb whore to even think for yourself now?”

You blink once, twice, three times as heat rises to your face, wiping the spit that threatens to fall from the corner of your mouth before you move forward, dragging your nails along the smooth skin of his upper thigh.

And as much as he loves to mark you and lay his claim to you, you love doing the exact same thing to him as well.

You live for the hiss he lets out from the pain of your nails, your teeth on his skin and grazing his pelvis as you move closer to his cock.

Such a man, such a being before your very eyes, and he’s all yours tonight, just as you are all his.

You let your nails and the tips of your fingers drag up the sides of his shaft, the length almost as long as your entire forearm. It’s a beautiful thing to see first hand as you admire him, your touches light and fleeting as your wide eyes continue to pierce his. You watch his abdomen clench and ripple when you catch his more sensitive spots, his hips bucking when you run your hand over the large vein that runs up the side.

A smile begins to grow along your lips as you watch him, his other hand running over his face and jaw. You can’t help but to admire him like this, slowly but surely as though you have all the time in the world to do so.

But, based on the absolute storm lingering within Roman’s eyes, you can tell that he’s in no teasing mood, the hand at the back of your neck squeezing threateningly before you finally get the hint to keep fucking going.

So, you do, tightening your grip around the base of his cock and stretching your lips around the head, letting the warmth of your breath wash over it before slowly beginning to sink your mouth down on him.

And, oh, what a sight he becomes before you.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he moans, watching through hooded eyes as you manage to slide the first few inches down your throat. With your smaller hands, you can barely wrap one of them around him fully - let alone two - but you try your best anyway, making sure to jerk the parts you can’t quite reach yet.

The ache between your legs becomes too much to bear as you begin to bob your head up and down, lustily taking him in while your eyes begin to close. With skin sensitive and hot to the touch, you take one hand off of him and begin to run it down your body. Over the curves of your breasts and as they threaten to spill from your bra, down the line of your abdomen, over your pubic bone and thumbing the lining of your panties, you let out another moan when you start to grind your clit against your fingers.

You don’t think that Roman notices it, the shift in your demeanor and the way your shoulders tighten up when you slip your fingers beneath your panties, the way your breath catches and your hips jump as you tease yourself…but he does.

He always does.

“Aww, are you that desperate, baby? You couldn’t help but touch that needy little pussy of yours? I can hear it all the way up here, you’re so wet for me.”

You can practically hear his smirk while he talks, but it still makes you hot all over. Spreading your wetness over your lower lips, you spread them and rub the pad of your finger over your bare clit, your body jolting at the pleasure it spikes through you.

“You want to touch yourself, fuck yourself with those tiny fingers of yours?” he asks, seething at the feeling of your teeth grazing the vein along his shaft. “Then, go ahead. Get yourself nice and ready for me…”

“..and don’t forget about me either, sweetheart,” Roman chides, briefly pulling you from the head with a soft pop before thumbing your lower lip. “Don’t make your Tribal Chief play second best to your needy fucking cunt.”

Your thighs clench and close in around your hand, a soft “yes” falling from your open lips before he presses your face right back against his cock as you begin to take more than you did before. You try to make your mouth as slick with your own saliva as possible, stroking his shaft in tandem with the swirling of your tongue around the head.

His hand lightly connects with your cheek. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my-”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full, baby. You’re better than that.”

He glares at you as you rise from his cock again, panting softly. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he tells you, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Now, get back to work.”

The copious amounts of spit from your mouth mix with his pre-cum as your hand glides along the warm skin, the sound just as loud and slick as the ones coming from between your legs. It doesn’t take long for him to take back control, roughly guiding your lips back to his cock before letting you do what you do best.

As your throat grows accustomed to his girth, you shift yourself on your knees and slip a finger between your folds, circling your hole with it and gingerly slide it in, choking around Roman’s length in the process.

A bright flush begins to run wild under his skin as he tilts his head back, the soft sounds of his huffs and groans making the space between your thighs almost uncomfortably wet as you continue to touch yourself. His other hand runs through his hair, pulling at the roots while his face scrunches up in pleasure when you twist your fist around the head just right.

It fills you with a feeling that you can’t describe, seeing what you do to him in moments like these.

“Shit, princess, keep going…” Roman’s near breathless now, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his hips buck into your eager mouth. Eyes hooded, his attention stays on you while your own remain closed, focusing all of your energy on making sure your Tribal Chief is as primed and ready to go as you are.

You ease another finger in between your folds along with the first one and curl them as they drag along your inner walls; it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s just you because your fingers aren't his, your touch isn’t the same as his. Roman’s fingers fill you twice as much as your own do, the phantom feeling of them stretching you to the brim as they graze along that one spot wracking your body with shivers.

The room is brimming with the wet sounds of your motions, your juices dripping down the hand that remains at your core while your eager lips and tongue schlick up and down his throbbing cock, the noises coming from the both of you getting swamped in the mess of it.

The sight and sound of you struggling to take his length seems to light a fire under his ass and his grip at the back of your neck grows tighter, Roman starting to force the visible stretch of him taking over your mouth and throat even more so, bucking his hips against your face and making sure that you take what you’re given.

“Oh, you wanna please your Tribal Chief, baby? Well, then, take all of it.”

With that, you feel him wrench your head further down his shaft, your throat closing in around him and squeezing as you choke on him. The hand in your hair tightens the further down his shaft you go, your throat tightening with each and every inch you take, your gag reflex fighting for dear life as you struggle to take him fully.

The few inches you have left to go get wrapped in your fist, your fingers shiny with your spit and noisily stroking him until he presses down on the back of your head just that much more for you to

He needs this, he needs you, and you’re going to take everything he has to give you, just like he asked.

So you brave through it, tears in your eyes with your lungs burning and begging for air, you bare through it for Roman, and the loud moan that you get from him in response makes the fire licking within your core burn all the more brighter.

You try to speak with his cock in your mouth, your garbled attempts at calling his name making him shove you further down. “Do that again, princess. Moan for me again while you get that pussy nice and ready for me.”

And moan for him you do, hearing your blood rushing through your ears as the sensing the heavy press of his hand on your neck squeeze tighter and tighter, Roman intently watching and feeling the length of his cock stretch against the walls of your throat.

It’s not long at all before you feel the telltale signs of your own orgasm approaching: the tightness coiling within your core, the curling of your toes and the pulsing in your abdomen, the sweat beginning to bead on your brow, the way that the pace of your hand around his cock and the hand between your legs seems to uptick bit by bit as the seconds go by…

You’re not at all shocked that Roman catches whiff of this too, hearing the now sped-up sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over again as you soak your panties clean through. “Don’t you dare cum, don’t you dare fucking cum. Only I can make you do that, you got that? Me, not those pathetic fucking fingers of yours.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice is muffled and your throat strains while you attempt to speak as you try your best to breathe through your nose, feeling lightheaded the more you try.

But his words make you feel not and sensitive all over, the hairs on your arms raising as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, gasping when he lifts your head from the base to tightly wrap his fist around it.

“Fuck!” you hear Roman yell before his hand tightens around your hair again, yanking your mouth clean off his cock, drops of spit and his pre-cum dripping down his shaft and catching the too-bright lights of the locker room. You sit before him panting and wheezing, taking in precious breaths of air as you cough and open your now tear-filled and blurry eyes for him.

Your throat and your chest burn from the abuse they’ve taken, the back of your head and neck sore from all of his manhandling while your knees ache from the carpet on the floor of the locker room digging into your skin…but you know that he still needs you, because he’s not done with you yet.

You try to wipe your mouth clean of the mess, your makeup now completely smudged and running down your face as the mix of your saliva and his cum drips from your chin and stains the bra you wear but he doesn’t allow it, taking your chin in his hands and leaning forward off the bench to steal your precious breath away once more with a kiss so fiery that it ignites a fire within you from the inside out.

“Get on your back,” he growls, hand creeping up the sides of your neck and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need to see how ready for me you are.”

Slowly, you pull your hand from your ruined panties and tug them off your legs, kicking the damp scrap of fabric to the side where the remainder of your clothes lie just as he stands from the bench, towering over you and staring down at you menacingly. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and shimmy it down over your arms, the nearly ruined item soon following all of the other clothes you’ve discarded until you’re finally exposed to his wandering, hungry eyes.

That’s the push that he needs to trail after you as you spread your legs for him, the sounds of him languidly stroking his cock to the sight of you teasing yourself with the wetness that stains your hand.

And what lies in front of you is just as godly, the sight of him shuffling his pants down his thighs and exposing the beautiful tanned skin that you just had your palms running over, stroking himself to the sight and sound of you pleasing yourself with flushed cheeks and the marks from your nails covering his chest and shoulders…the whine you let out cuts through the air and you can’t resist the urge to reach out to him, to call to him and bring him to you-

“You get what I give you, baby, when I want to give it to you and how I want to give it to you. Not when and how you want.”

Roman kneels to your height, his knees hitting the locker room floor with a dull thud and begins to stalk towards you, sirens wailing off inside your mind right as he crawls over your body looking every inch the beast that he claims to be.

“Roman,” you mewl, feeling him run his palms up the flushed skin of your legs. His hand latches onto your wrist and pulls it from between your thighs, holding it up to the light and watching your juices drip from your fingers before slipping them into his own mouth.

You watch as his lips close in over them, his tongue swirling around them to catch every last drop of your essence before slipping them from his mouth with a dark grin. Your aroma, now more potent than ever, fills his lungs with every single breath he takes, even more now with the taste of your arousal staining his tongue.

Every nerve and thought in his body roars at him, screams and demands for him to bend you over and fill you with his cum, to take you over and over again until everyone in this entire goddamn arena knows exactly who the hell you’re with, you’re spending your time with and who’s dealing with you.

Paul, Solo, Jimmy, Jey…they’ll all know exactly who the fuck runs things in this little circle of theirs, this fight for true and utter control.

And it will happen, you just have to wait a tad bit longer for it.

You’re so warm as you lie beneath him, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs as you wait in ample anticipation for his next move. Brushing his hair back with one hand, he slowly runs them up your body, over your plush thighs and past your dripping core that beckons him in closer.

Over your waist and up your chest until he takes your breasts in his hands and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on them and twisting them until you cry out his name. The pain makes sparks ignite in your core and Roman refuses to let up on his hold despite the noise, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting down on it as he plays with the other one.

Those hands of his, the same ones that bring you pleasure are the same ones that have brought his own family pain, and that thought is not lost on Roman as he continues to play with you, reveling in the litany of pitiful noises leaking from your trembling lips.

He will not show you the same pain that his cousins brought onto him, nor that he had brought to them.

For you, things are…different.

You’ll never leave his side at the head of the table, never abandon him for some other, higher purpose; you’ve said so yourself before tonight many a time.

Your legs wrap around his waist and lock him in as you dig your nails into the carpet you lay on, it already starting to dig into your skin. But you need more from him; more of him on you, around you, more of his touch and his mouth and his cock, just more.

With your feet, you try your best to shove his pants down further over his ass and down his legs, only managing to get so far before he stops you with a firm yet quick slap to your ass.

He doesn’t even have to remove his mouth from your breast to tell you anything, glaring up at you while his tongue laves away at your nipple before moving away from it and suctioning his mouth onto the other.

Your entire body trembles; what does he have planned next for you? What more could he possibly pull from you as he manhandles your body, squeezing and grasping at you like you’re going to somehow sink into the floor if he removes himself from you?

And then all of your questions are answered when you see him rise from your chest, his lips plush and a shade of bright red as a thin line of his saliva connects them to your breast before it snaps. You feel him press down on your waist, making you relax further against the floor until he wraps his hands around your ankles and begins to fold your legs into your chest, your knees grazing your face just so.

“Hold them,” you hear Roman say damn near under his breath, the depth in his voice making you whine as you wrap your hands under your knees to keep your legs raised. The trembling of your body increases as your anticipation grows and everything in your body tells you to close your eyes and look away from him, but you just can’t.

He’s beautiful in the way he gazes down at you, zeroing in on the way the walls of your cunt clench around nothing and shine with your arousal under the light, licking his lips like a caged animal. He might as well be one anyway with the possessive nature that consumes him when he has you, when he’s with you.

A hitch in your breath comes and goes when he moves even closer, gripping his cock firmly with one hand before using the other to spread your lower lips, the sound of him spitting on them reaching your ears before you feel it. It’s slick, it’s obscenely nasty as he swipes his cock head through the glistening mess, spreading the wetness around even more so as to get you as well as possible before you feel the hefty warmth of the head slapping against your folds.

The weights of it, and the thought of what’s to come have you arching your back into the sensation, desperate to reach your hands up to grip him and pull him into you, to have them just get it over with already and to make you see stars. And you do flex your fingers in his direction, squeezing the space beneath your knees and spreading your legs further for him to tease and prod at you while he just stares on with a smirk slowly beginning to grow along his face.

“Patience, baby, patience,“ Roman murmurs, sliding the head of his cock through your folds and nudging your button with it. The action sends a bolt of lightning jolting up your spine, causing you to dig your fingers into the flush of your lower thighs, and toss your head to the side with a small whine.

“Please, Roman, I need it. I need you, just fuck me, please –“

He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips before slipping his thumb between them. You instinctively wrap them around the digit and pull it in deeper with your tongue, swirling the muscle around it before he slowly but surely post it out. “I said to have patience, baby girl, so don’t be greedy. Just lay back, be a good girl, and take what your Tribal Chief gives you.“

He ends his sentence by dragging that wet thumb over your lips, down your chin, and rests harshly against your clit, grinding his shaft against your folds as he plays with you. You feel like your heart is about to fly out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, watching as he moves even closer to you and presses himself even harder against you.

“Nice and wet for me, princess…you did good for me back there.” You revel in the small bit of praise, a ghost of a smile floating over your lips until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing up against your entrance. “You still ready for me?”

You can’t nod your head fast enough. “Yes, please. Roman, I’m ready for you, I’m ready-”

At the feeling of him finally stuffing you full of his cock, his chest keeping pressure on the backs of your legs and folding further into yourself, tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes at the newfound pressure.

The familiar burn of Roman pushing into you but by bit, inch by gloriously thick inch, has you itching to latch onto him in any way that you possibly can - and you eventually do, removing your hands from holding your legs to placing them on Roman’s shoulders as soon as he gets close enough.

That fire he had stoked inside of you now grows to an inferno the more of himself he bullies into you, stretching you out to fit his cock just right is making your mind hazy. The quick and constant fluttering of your walls around him makes him groan, dropping his head to your knee.

Your nerves fry and your eyes cross as he continues to move, every single wall within you absolutely crumbling because of it. And It feels like forever and a day has passed before he eventually bottoms out inside you for the first time tonight as you nearly lose your mind on his cock, your toes starting to curl and your thighs flexing.

The guttural moan that leaves Roman’s chest rocks you to your very core, the sound of the wetness between your legs and the pressing of him against your ass turning your insides to mush. One of his hands rests at your waist and keeps you close, his body leaning on your own so much that his nose just barely brushes against yours.

You whine his name, the shrill noise and the desperate look in your eyes turning all dials up to eleven. The huffs and small moans leaving your throat, your body already run ragged before he’s really gotten the chance to fuck you senseless yet…it all just makes him want to ruin you even more.

He can’t figure out where to keep his eyes; he wants to look at all of you, from the way your chest heaves and your breasts move from your breaths to the way your pulse jumps at the vein in your neck to the apex of your thighs where your arousal stains and sticks to the skin of his pelvis, there’s almost too many options for him.

But when you squeeze down his shoulders and bring his attention back to the feeble look in your eyes, he can’t help but toss his head back and sigh because look at you, with your lip quivering just as much as your cunt is and the way you gently thump your head against the carpeted floor as his hand runs over your abdomen and presses against the outline his cock made inside you.

His ears fill with the sounds of your sex, your legs seemingly permanently glued to his chest while he wraps an arm around them, keeping you right where he wants you as his hips begin to move.

And the slide of him moving back and forth along your walls, his hips pulling back from your ass and dragging the head of his cock back towards your clit before moving back in just as slowly causes your entire lower body to twitch.

“Roman…Roman, please,” you beg him. You don’t even know what you’re even begging him for anymore: for more? For him to pick up his achingly slow pace? For him to close the distance between his mouth and yours so you can taste him all over again?

But he doesn’t appeal to your cries nor does he break when you seem to grow even wetter for him as he begins to thrust in and out, back and forth, dragging your hips higher into the air and folding you even further into yourself.

He still, however, refuses to look anywhere else other than at your face, in your eyes as he rolls his hips into you, dead set on ever single noise and jerking movement your body gives him.

His brow furrows; how could he not look at you when you’re like this, mouth wide open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth, pointed in the air as it tries to lick at his lips while you fan the flames of the fire you’re sparked inside of him?

You try your best to rock your hips in tandem with his own, bucking them as best you can whenever his pelvis meets your own and he bottoms out inside you. You can feel the head of his cock grazing that sweet spot along your walls, almost kissing your cervix every single time he bears down on you. His weight strains the muscles at the back of your legs when he pulls forward every time but you don’t care, you don’t care because all that matters is him and how well he fills you.

Roman doesn’t speak a word to you, only letting out groans and grunts with the occasional low-toned moan for your ears only, but everything that you hear makes your entire body vibrate with a deeper need.

Eventually, his pace does begin to increase, the erotic melody of his hips tap, tap, tapping against yours growing into him beginning to use his true power to make you cry out. And cry out you do, your brain now clouded with innsense waves of pleasure as your screams for more grow in volume.

You don’t even attempt to lower your volume and neither does he, not caring about whoever may be listening in from outside the no-that-far-away locker room door - and in the back of your mind, your last shred of sentience thanks Roman for preemptively locking it when everyone else had left.

The force behind his thrusts leaves you absolutely breathless as you stare helplessly into his eyes, moans and huffs flowing from your lips like a waterfall while the pleasure in your core ticks up bit by bit.

The faster he pounds into you and the longer he goes on, the more your walls close in around him like a warm, silken vice, your cunt tightening in around him and not letting him go at all. Your pleasure spikes when he moves his hand down slightly to pinch your clit, making you jolt as you arch your back as best you can.

The rug beneath you scratches against your skin as he runs you ragged on top of it, your shoulder blades and the top of your back taking the brunt of the burn. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you squeeze them closed, but the sharp sting of Roman’s hand coming down on your clit snaps them right back open again.

You hiss at the pain but it all just melts right back into pleasure all over again and it doesn’t escape his keen eyes, his flat of his hand coming down on the button over and over again. And you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down his arms as your nerves flare all through your body.

The telltale signs of your impending orgasm are clear to you both: the dilation in your eyes, the way your thighs stretch and quake as he presses down on them and how quickly you begin to pant.

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

The feeling of Roman’s hand sliding up your chest and around your neck cuts you off, your breath hitching and your eyes widening. “You need what, baby? Don’t go all shy on me now? Or have I fucked all the sense out of you already?”

He sneers and squeezes the sides of your throat, making you gasp. “You get to cum when I say that you can, when I give you the go ahead…you understand me? Hmm? Nod your head for me, baby girl.”

You follow his orders to a tee, staving off your looming orgasm by trying to focus on something, anything that’s not the pulsating feeling between your legs or the way he drives his cock into you, the build-up in his pace doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

“R-Roman…” Your voice is weak behind the grip of his hand, his thumb brushing along the front of your throat and pressing down.

“Not yet, baby girl. I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Each word he speaks is enunciated by a powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each one. “Don’t you want to be good for me? Don’t you want to please your Tribal Chief?”

Your voice is soft when you attempt to answer him, crying out “yes, yes I do” as he plows into you harder than before, your back now actively rubbing against the coarse carpet every time Roman’s pelvis connects with yours.

He groans when he looks into your watery eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears and spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your face is a mess, your entire body is flushed right with heat, you look a mess, and it’s all because of him.

Your blubbering and the tears that flow from your eyes do something fierce to him as his own orgasm begins to crest, the way your walls grip his shaft driving him absolutely mad with desire. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting go, the sharp pain making him curse as his hips begin to stutter.

“Shit!” he yells, abruptly tearing his cock from you with a wet squelch, your arousal dripping from the head and staining the carpet. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he grips the base of his cock in his fist again before leaning in to plant a furious kiss to his lips, stealing what little breath you have left away once more.

It’s all teeth and tongue and fiery passion that stokes the already blazing inferno within your soul and when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs on it, it hurts so good that you whine against his lips and arch into his touch when he pulls away.

Your voice is weak and slightly hoarse when you ask, “Roman?”

“Over the bench, baby. I want you on your hands and knees when I cum inside you.”

That steely gaze from before makes its return and you visibly cower beneath it, standing on shaky legs as you make your way over to one of the nearby benches before draping your weary and sensitive body over it. You feel exposed in this position - even more so due to the fact that you can’t even see him when he pulls the globes of your ass apart to gaze at how slick and messy you’ve become due to his actions.

His hand comes down on the skin and you jolt, scrambling to grab the cold wood of the bench before he does it again…and again.

And again and again as the sharp, stinging pain rings proud and true all over the meat of your ass, heat blooming beneath the skin and radiating off of it. Roman’s hand comes down on one, then the other, and then spreads them with one hand to deliver another blow right to your sensitive folds, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream that has you nearly bolting off the bench.

“Stay still,” he tells you, his chest rumbling as he lays a more firm slap on your ass, another whimper slipping from you. “You only move when I tell you to move, baby girl.”

Roman continues to lay blow after blow to your ass and now to your achingly wet folds, rutting his cock against you as you grind back against him, More tears leak from your eyes as the stinging pain begins to melt into aching pleasure, a litany of broken moans and sobs passing through your lips right before he slides his cock right back inside you.

He meets no resistance and his hips meet yours damn near instantly, picking up his brutal pace right where he left off while you gasp for air. It’s like you can feel his cock all the way in your lungs with how deep he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting sticky skin bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Your chest presses firmly against the bench, your breasts aching from how firmly he holds your hips against it while his pace goes into overtime. Everyone outside be damned, the noises leaving your mouth couldn’t be silenced even if the damn door was broken down.

The sounds of his name and cries for more fill his ears and he drifts a hand up your back, trailing his fingers up your spine before wrapping his hand in your hair and yanking your head back against his chest.

“That’s it, scream for me,” you hear him say in your ear, the drop in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You feel his lips trace the shell of your ear, biting down on it and then moving down to your jaw. His other hand grasps your chin and pulls your head to the side, his teeth grazing the side of your neck before he sinks his teeth into it.

And the yell that you let out because of it almost rattles the very walls that surround you as you weakly reach your arms back behind your head and wrap them around his own neck, keeping his head there as he plows into you. Your hips ache, your ass fucking burns from his pelvis colliding against it, everything on your body stings and aches and hurts but you love it, you love it all.

You can feel the marks and bruises that his hands,his lips, his teeth leave on your body already begin to bruise, and you can already tell that the ones staining your ass are going to make it hard to sit down or even walk for days to come…

But you’ll wear those marks, those bruises, you’ll wear everything with your head held high and with pride in your eyes because despite all that Roman’s faced these past few months, he still has you willingly and wholly and wholeheartedly.

The sweet kiss of your orgasm comes to fruition again and you can feel that wave begin to crest over; you won’t be able to last much longer if he keeps going at the pace he’s at right now, your toes curling as you dig your own nails into his scalp to pull his head from your neck. You instinctively squeeze around his cock, feeling his balls slap against your clit over and over again and making you jump and jolt around.

“R-Roman, please, ’m gonna…, I need to, please-”

He can’t help but groan as he roughly kisses the side of your head, holding your beginning-to-go-limp upper body close to his chest. “Fuck me, baby, you’re gonna cum? You’re gonna soak my cock and stain the floor?”

You feel him smile against your cheek when you nod. “I feel you clenching around me, princess, so why don’t you be a good girl for your Tribal Chief and cum for me? I want this pussy sloppy fucking wet by the time I’m done with you.”

The weight of him against your back side, the way he slips a hand between your legs and begins to play with your clit again, furiously rubbing the bud between his fingers as he pumps his hips even faster…it has your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you pant like a bitch in heat, Roman playing you like a finely tuned instrument and pushing all of the right buttons.

It all comes to a head when he starts to murmur in your ear,words and wishes of how he’s going to fill you up just like how you want and leave you dripping full of his cum all over the floor by the time the night ends, firmly grasping your breast with his other hand and twisting your nipple fiercely.

Blood rushes to your ears so damn fast that you can just barely hear the words that leave his lips but once you do…oh, the reaction that he gets has him cheesing something fierce, those sharp teeth of his bared for the whole world to see.

Your entire body shakes, completely vibrates with the need to cum as you fly closer and closer to that edge, clinging to Roman for dear life - but not before he tilts your head to the side and kisses you so passionately that you fall limp in his hold, his tongue meshing together with yours.

“Don’t hold yourself back anymore, baby girl. Cum for me, cum for me now-”

He speaks against your lips and your inner walls give way to your orgasm, that wave cresting and your body bending along with it as you soak his cock with a cry so loud that it rings louder in your ears than your bloodrush does. Your heart feels as though it’s about to leap through your chest and out of your mouth, your hands drifting from his hair and your arms wrapping around his neck behind you.

You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as it presses against your back and it’s just as fast as yours, and a final high pitched moan escapes your mouth as you soak his cock completely, his hips stuttering against yours while his thrusts begin to slow.

You audibly moan at the warmth that fills your core when you feel him jut his hips against yours and stays there, fully inserted within you as his own climax takes the reins.

It feels like a punch square to his gut when his cock throbs against that sweet spot that lines your walls, his resolve crumbling and his mind going blank for a few seconds. “Fuck,” Roman groans, the sound rumbling through your whole body as you feel him paint your walls with his cum, the head of his cock pressing snugly against your cervix while he grips your flesh and digs his fingers in wherever he can put them.

Your thighs, your chest, your waist, your neck, it doesn’t matter; at the end of the night, your entire body is going to be covered in his marks, whether you like it or not.

Your brain is scrambled and he rests his head on top of yours, massaging your clit to get the final jitters of your orgasm out of you before he finally lets you breathe. Your vision remains blurry from a mix of how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and from the tears that still linger within it, your face remains a stained mess from your destroyed makeup, and you don’t even want to talk about the state that your hair resides in…but in this moment, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

For now, he simply cradles your trembling body to his chest, his cock still snug along your inner walls as he rocks his body against yours; over and over again, calming the rocky waves of your climaxes - both yours and him - as he begins to take his own breath and takes the first seconds of the night to finally think about the events that have occurred.

His blood, his closest family has betrayed him, left him in the dirt and dust and tossed him aside…and now all that he has left is you.

You and the strength, the stability, the everything that’s left of his Bloodline reside within you, and he can’t let you go.

He just can’t.

He won’t let you go, not now and not ever…not after everything tonight.

As time passes and when he doesn’t speak, you take the first steps. “...Roman? Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse and your throat dry from all of your screaming.

“Please…” you hear him whisper against your back, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he pants, still coming down from the force of his orgasm. “Please…don’t leave.”

Please don’t leave me.

And hearing that, hearing his voice crack slightly as his lips move from the nape of your neck upwards, curving up towards your jawline and around the shell of your ear…it breaks you, it utterly breaks something within your soul.

As you think back to the previous weeks, you could already see the threads of dissension within the eyes of Solo, the traps being laid by The Usos to bring the young man closer to their side and away from Roman’s.

The true and final nail in the coffin of the Bloodline, the removal of the Samoan Enforcer, the last shred of foundation that holds this entire empire of Roman’s together…you can feel it in his every motion, every single press of his fingers against your skin, every pull of his arms as he brings you in further and further to his own body: he’s terrified of losing everything, everything that he has left, everything that he is.

“I won’t, Roman,” you tell him, curling your body against his, allowing him to surround you with everything that he has and everything that he’s willing to give you. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave, I promise.”

A few moments pass, and what precious moments they are. No words are spoken, barely any movements are made aside from the slight rocking of his hips against your own and the heaving of your chests as you both breathe, just…nothing.

A good nothing.

A good nothing that allows you both to just be in touch with yourselves and with each other.

After those few moments pass, you speak to him again, gently running your fingertips over his forearms. “Look, we’ll forge a new Bloodline, okay? Together. You and me and Paul and Solo-”

Roman buries his face in your hair at the mention of Solo’s name, taking a deep breath in of a scent that’s just entirely you mixed with tinges of him…a perfect combination, the perfect combination.

“If we can’t rely on your family to maintain this faction, this dynasty…then we’ll make a new one of our own. Bigger and better and more powerful than Jimmy and Jey could ever comprehend.”

A tense silence follows your words before Roman finds his own to respond.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your head, another kiss being pressed to your hair as he thinks. You’re right, after all.

If his own family won’t stand at his side, if he can’t rely on his own bloodline…then you two will create your own dynasty…together.

And together, the two of you will take down and dismantle whatever is left of Jimmy and Jey, for all of the new hell that they’ve now brought upon themselves.

And that’s not a threat, Roman thinks to himself as he curls his body around yours against the cool floor of the locker room, not wanting to get up nor remove himself from the comfort and relief that you provide him.

That’s a fucking promise.

“So..can I get my clothes now? And, are we gonna get up and unlock the door, or…?”

You feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, his smile against your skin growing just that bit wider. “Nah, they can all wait a few more minutes. Besides…”

“...I’m not finished with you just yet.”

Oh, fuck…

Tag List:

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please please please lmk if i missed anyone (on the tag list) and lmk if you wanna be added to it/removed from it! tysm and have a blessed one 😘✌🏾

#rezz writes some bullshit #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x reader smut #roman reigns x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader smut #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #oh my god...rezzy actually posting a fic??? with ACTUAL smut in it???? color me gooped and gagged and shocked to shit lmao #but please enjoy this y'all i spent way too much time overthinking this XD

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natti-ice · 21 days ago

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spiicii · 26 days ago

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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

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damiansgoodgirll · 5 months ago

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Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

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bloodlineslut · 2 months ago

Text

Quickie | Roman Reigns

Images/GIFs aren’t mine, credits to rightful owners.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! reader

Warnings: smut, almost getting caught, nearly cockblocking mother, quickie sex, freaky deaky Roman, daddy kink, dirty talk

Summary: You and Roman were trying to behave for the weekend at your mom’s house, but you both couldn��t wait any longer.

Word Count: 1.57k

A/N: Ya’ll. OOU WEE. that damn interview when Daddy was talking about how he looked like he was in the middle of an orgasm really did something to my body so I had to write this. all i write is smut i feel ashamed LMAOO

“Bend over, baby.” Roman’s gravelly voice softly commanded you, hearing the whooshing sound of the zipper on his pants.

You giggled all the while obeying him, getting on the guest bed on all fours with his large frame standing behind you.

“You locked the door right?” You look back over your shoulder to see him pulling his boxers and pants down just enough to free his heavy, throbbing cock.

His eyes met yours and you saw that desire in them. “Hell yea. Nobody seein’ this but me, princess.” He spits into his hand and glides it over the head of his mushroom tip before rubbing it up and down against your soaking folds.

The immeasurable pleasure made your back arch even deeper. Roman loved your plump ass, and he let you know it every damn day.

His massive hands each grabbed handfuls of your ass and moved it around, enjoying how soft and fleshy the cheeks were. “Fuck, baby…” He bit his lower lip, still teasing the head of his cock against your sensitive clit.

You pushed back against him, wanting him to hurry and put it in before your mom came looking for the two of you.

Any other time, you two would be on a leash, but you hadn’t seen Roman in a couple weeks because of his schedule so…

You both were horny.

“Unghh…Roman, put it—in.” You begged him.

He loved to hear you beg for him. “You want this big dick inside you huh?”

“Mmhmm.” Your desperate whines oozed out of your mouth.

“Fuck…I wanna see that ass bounce for me, baby.” He sexily bites onto his lower lip, just imagining all your fleshy ass putting him into a trance, as he positions the head of his dick against your aching hole.

No matter how many times you had sex with him, nothing ever prepares you for his thick manhood. It felt like you were getting split in half, feeling every vein that ran along it snug against your sensitive walls.

He never continued moving until you gave him the green light, but you were so turned on that you didn’t need that long to adjust this time.

Both of his hands were grabbing your waist, so you swung your right arm back to grab onto his forearm, pulling him towards you.

“You okay, baby? Let me know.”

“Yes, just please fuck me.” You rushed out. Your entire body felt white hot, eyes rolling back and almost seeing stars.

You had no choice but to do a quickie, Roman thrusting into your heat with deep strokes. He moved your panties more to the side, trapping the cloth underneath his hand that was still gripping your waist with firmness.

Even more of your wetness was leaking out of you onto his cock, and even on the bedsheets.

Roman loved seeing you cream all over him, it drove him crazy. “That dick feels so good it’s got you creamin’ huh?”

Dirty talk.

How he was so good at it baffled you. Words that could make you lose yourself was a foreign concept before you met Roman.

He was drilling into you so that your ass was starting to clap against his pelvis, filling the room with that loudness. His heavy balls slapping against your erect clit wasn’t making you trying to keep quiet any better.

“Ooh, shit! You’re so deep in me.” Your hands were gripping onto the comforter for dear life, even biting on it to try to keep from screaming.

Everything around you disappeared, but Roman was still keeping an ear out for footsteps in the hallway.

He slowed his thrusts down and stopped, but still stayed inside you.

He heard footsteps and the muffled sound of your mother’s voice talking silently to herself. “Where did those two go? Dinner is ready.”

Then there was the knock on the guest bedroom door.

Your head shot to the door, and then to Roman, silently telling him to say something.

“Are you guys in there?” Your mother’s chirpy voice called out from the other side of the door.

Roman cleared his throat and decided to speak back. “Uh, yeah. We’re about to shower and come back down.”

The thrill of almost getting caught somehow made Roman’s cock swell inside of you and he began moving again, making you have to hold in your moans.

“Oh okay! Both of you are taking a shower?” She asked as if that would be a weird thing.

You reached around and put your hand against Roman’s abdomen to make him stop thrusting so you could get out a tangible sentence.

“Yes mom! We’ll be down, I promise.” You saw Roman smile out of the corner of your eye.

He began thrusting deep into you over and over again, gripping one of your shoulders to get a new angle, making your mouth fall open in a strangled moan.

You looked over your shoulder at him, pleasure on your face, but also a hint of fear, not wanting your mom to hear you getting cracked.

He smirked at you and just brought his index finger to his lips, signaling for you to shush.

You flopped back down onto the bed. Roman heard the footsteps descend away from the door and down the hall.

“It’s okay baby, she’s gone. Let me make you cum. I wanna feel that pussy squeeze around me.”

He knew exactly where your G spot was, dragging his length against it repeatedly. Your ass was bouncing with every movement and he was hypnotized by it.

“Who’s pussy is this?” He growled out.

His words barely registered in your brain, but nonetheless you tried to answer quietly. “Ooh, it’s yours Daddy. You fuck me so good.” The squelch of where you were joined could be heard by the both of you.

“That’s right. Even this pussy knows it. You hear that?” His steady voice growls out to you, still keeping the pace of his thrusts.

Turning your head to rest your face against the sheets, you could see your man’s face. Despite his rough exterior and serious demeanor, you were the only one who could make him lose control like this.

His eyebrows were furrowed together in focus and his mouth was agape, reveling in the pure ecstasy that you two had shared countless times.

You took pride in it, though.

Roman wanted to feel another angle so he raised his right leg to rest his foot beside you on the bed. This position always got him deeper inside you.

You felt him sink in about another 2 inches, really rubbing up against your spot that made your legs quiver.

“Ooh fuck baby, you feel that?” His voice resonating through the room like silk. You began to thrust yourself back to meet his hips, your ass hitting his pelvis resulting in the clapping sound that he loved to hear.

“Shit, Roman! Ugh, I love it.” You whimper to him, moving your hand to rub that swollen nub between your legs.

“Let me rub that for you baby. I wanna feel that little pussy squeeze around me when you come.” He replaces your fingers with his thick, warm ones.

He sped up his thrusts, hips snapping toward yours, as he circled your clit in figure-eights which was just the way you liked it.

Your orgasm hit you before you knew it and before you could scream, you felt Roman each around to put his hand over your mouth to muffle the noise a bit.

“Shhhh, c’mon baby. You tryin’ to get us caught?”

You tried to focus on your breathing to keep quiet but all you could feel was the pulsing and gush of wetness between your legs.

Roman looked down at your pussy pulsing around him as he fucked you through your orgasm which brought him to the edge too. He felt his balls begin to tighten up and let you know.

“Fuck princess. You gon’ make Daddy come too.” He removed his hand from your mouth to land back on your hips, going at a rigorous pace now.

“Yes Daddy, please gimme that nut. I want it so bad…” You sweetly begged him, knowing it would push him over that edge.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck baby.” He gasped and pulled out at the very last minute, releasing his hot come all over your ass and back.

He stroked his throbbing dick to every last drop, his moans like music to your proud ears.

You bit your lip and smiled back at him, enjoying seeing him in that post orgasm bliss.

Roman couldn’t help but swipe some of his essence off your ass on his two fingers and bring it up to your waiting lips.

You happily obliged and sensually sucked on his digits, licking them clean. “Mmm. That’s my good girl.”

You two were just enjoying each other in the bliss until you were rudely interrupted, again.

“Are ya’ll finished showering yet?” Your mother’s voice rang through the other side of the door.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Yes mom. We’re just getting dressed now.”

“Okay just checking!” And her footsteps faded away down the hallway.

You got off of your knees from the bed, leading Roman to the bathroom so you could actually take a quick shower.

“Baby, next time let’s just get a hotel room.” Roman voiced his thoughts as the water cascaded down onto you.

“Agreed.”

The end.

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prettyfilmz · 3 months ago

Text

THROB • JIMMY USO

author's note: hi my loves!! honestly have nothing to say other than this was a random idea that was born out of how fine jimmy looked here I hope y'all enjoy it😭

synopsis: in which you've been ovulating and taking your frustrations out on jimmy because you're too stubborn to ask him for what you need. lucky for you, jimmy knows just what to do to get you to act right.

tags: 18+(MDNI), jimmy uso x fem reader, established relationship, arguments, bratty behavior, teasing, breast sucking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), big jim™ , overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, creampie, slight humiliation, degradation, jimmy is a lil mean in this, dacryphilia, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, doggy style, mating press, small aftercare at the end.

word count: 3.2k words

You were pacing back and forth in the living room, arms crossed, your brow furrowed so tightly it could’ve scared the undertaker away. Every little thing Jimmy did irritated you, though you knew deep down it wasn’t his fault. He sat there on the couch, broad shoulders relaxed, his tattoos flexing subtly as he scrolled through his phone. His usual goofy grin wasn’t there, though. He was watching you, trying to hold back his amusement.

“Why you stompin’ ‘round here like a lil’ ass gremlin, huh?” Jimmy’s deep voice cut through your mumbling, making you whip your head toward him.

“I ain’t stompin’, Jimmy! Maybe if you’d do somethin’ helpful for once like puttin’ your damn shoes away from in front of the door instead of sittin’ there, I wouldn’t be irritated!” You snapped, your tone sharp.

Jimmy slowly raised an eyebrow, setting his phone down. That cheeky grin started creeping back onto his face, and it only made you more annoyed. “Girl, ain’t no way you talkin’ to me like that. You been barkin’ at me all week, and I let it slide ‘cause I know what timing you’re on. But you really gon’ sit here and act like I don’t know why you mad?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms tighter. “I ain’t mad, Jimmy.”

“Oh, so you just bein’ a brat for fun? I’m supposed to believe that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his smirk widening as he caught the way your thighs clenched together at the shift in his tone.

Your body betrayed you. It always did when he was around, especially now. The heat between your legs was unbearable, and your nipples were pebbled, brushing against the soft fabric of your tank top in a way that had you biting back whimpers. Normally, you’d have your vibrator for relief when he was on the road, but he’d been home all week. Which fucked up your usual routine you had going and now you're too stubborn to ask him.

Jimmy tilted his head, his dark eyes dragging over your body like he already knew what you were hiding. “Yeah, see, I know exactly what’s goin’ on with you, baby girl. You think you tough huh? You don’t even need to tell me nothin’. I can see it in the way you walkin’ ‘round here all moody.”

“Jimmy, shut up,” you shot back, though your voice cracked slightly. He noticed.

“Nah, I’m gon’ keep talkin’. Matter fact, come here,” he said, his voice taking on that commanding edge that made your knees weak.

You hesitated, shooting him a glare. “Why?”

“‘Cause I said so, that’s why. Don’t make me come over there and get you.” He leaned back, spreading his legs in that laid-back, cocky way that showed off the sheer size of him. His gray sweats left nothing to the imagination, and the way his dick pressed against the fabric had your mouth watering despite your irritation.

With a heavy sigh, you walked over, but your attitude wasn’t going anywhere. “What, Jim? You gon’ keep talkin’ shit?”

He chuckled, reaching out to grab your wrist and tugging you between his legs. “Girl, you just mad ‘cause you’re neglecting what you need. But you too damn stubborn to ask for it, huh?” He let his hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them as he pulled you closer.

“Jimmy, I swear to God—”

“You swear to God what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping lower. His thumbs pressed into the softness of your hips, holding you in place. “You ain’t gon’ do shit, baby. Stop frontin’.”

The heat in his gaze melted your resolve, but you couldn’t let him win that easily. “You just know everything, huh?”

He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear. “I know you ovulatin’,” he murmured. “And I know you ain’t been able to take care of yourself like you usually do. You need daddy to take care of you, hm?”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to step back, but his grip tightened. “Jimmy, stop playin’—”

“Who said I’m playin’?” He tilted his head up to look at you, his expression softening just enough to make your heart flutter. “Why you bein’ difficult, huh? This what you wanted, ain’t it?”

You tried to keep up your defiance, but when his lips trailed down your neck, you couldn’t hold back the shiver that coursed through you. “Jimmy…”

“There she is,” he teased, pulling back to look you in the eyes. “Now, you gon’ ask me nice, or you gon’ keep actin’ like a spoiled lil’ brat?”

Your pride wrestled with your desire, but the way his hands roamed your body and his voice dripped with authority had you caving. “Please,” you whispered, barely audible.

He cupped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Please what, baby? Let daddy hear you.”

“Please, daddy,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A satisfying grin spread across his face as he leaned back, patting his thigh. “There we go. Now, sit that pretty ass down. You got some apologizin’ to do.”

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him as his hands immediately found their way under your tank top. His palms were warm against your bare skin, sliding up to cup your breasts. You gasped when his thumbs brushed over your sensitive nipples, and he chuckled darkly.

“Damn, these are real sensitive, huh?” he said, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue flicked over the hardened bud, and your hips bucked against him involuntarily.

“Shit!” you cried out, clutching his shoulders as your body betrayed every ounce of control you thought you had left.

“Shh, baby, let me take care of you,” he murmured, switching to the other nipple. His teeth grazed it gently, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

You whimpered, grinding against him as the pressure built inside you. “Daddy, please, I need…”

“I know what you need, baby girl. But you gon’ learn not to keep this shit from me.” His hands slid down to your ass, giving it a firm slap that made you yelp. “Next time, you gon’ tell daddy what you need, understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your lips softly before flipping you over onto the couch. “Now, lay back and let daddy handle the rest.”

Jimmy hovered over you now, his larger frame trapping you beneath him on the couch. His hands gripped your thighs possessively, thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers straight to your core. You stared up at him, panting, your chest heaving as his dark eyes raked over you. That playful grin he usually wore was gone, replaced by something darker, more intense. He licked his lips like a predator sizing up its prey, and you couldn’t help but squirm beneath him.

“Mm-mm,” he growled, pressing his hands down harder to still your movements. “Ain’t no runnin’, baby. You wanted this, didn’t you? All week, you been actin’ up snappin’, throwin’ them lil’ ass tantrums, tryna to act like you don’t need me. But I know you,” His voice almost in a mocking tone. “Your body been screamin’ for me since I came back, mama.”

You whimpered, your pride dissolving under the weight of his words. “I—Jimmy, please…”

“Please what?” His hands slipped beneath your shorts, gripping the soft flesh of your ass. “What you need from daddy?”

The way he said it so smooth, teasing, but dripping with authority had your resolve crumbling completely. “I need you to fuck me,” you breathed, barely audible.

He smirked, leaning down so his lips brushed against your ear. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? But you still owe me an apology, baby. You gon’ tell daddy you sorry for bein’ a brat?”

Your cheeks burned. “I’m sorry, daddy,” you whispered.

“Mean it,” he says, his tone sharp enough to make you obedient. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you exactly who was in control here. “I know you can do better than that.”

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you whimpered out, your voice trembling with need.

Jimmy grinned, clearly satisfied. “Good girl. Now let’s see if you can keep that same energy when I’m done with you.”

Before you could respond, he tugged your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, leaving you completely exposed. His eyes locked onto the slickness between your thighs, and he let out a low whistle. “Damn, look at you. I didn’t even touch you yet and you already wet as hell.”

You whimpered, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn’t let you. “Jimmy, don’t tease me…”

“Who you think you talkin’ to?” he shot back sharply, grabbing your knees and spreading them wider. “You don’t call the shots here, baby girl. Now stay still.”

His hands gripped your thighs as he lowered his head in between your legs. The first swipe of his tongue against your clit had you crying out, your hips jerking off the couch. Jimmy chuckled, pinning you down with ease. “I said be still, didn’t I? You gon’ listen, or you want me to tie you down?”

“D-daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a moan as he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue working you over with precision. The combination of his lips, tongue, and the slight scrape of his teeth had your body trembling uncontrollably.

You tried to squirm away when the pleasure became too much, but Jimmy wasn’t having it. He slid two fingers inside you without warning, curling them just right to hit that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars. “Stop fuckin’ runnin’,” he growled, his voice muffled against your pussy. “This what you wanted, huh? So take it.”

You sobbed his name, your nails digging into the couch as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. He didn’t let up, his pace relentless as his fingers pumped in and out of you, his mouth never leaving your clit. “Oh my God, Jimmy, I’m gonna—”

“Yeah, you gon’ cum for daddy?” he taunted, his eyes gleaming as he looked up at you. “Do it, baby.”

The coil in your stomach snapped, and you came hard, your back arching off the couch as your orgasm tore through you. You screamed his name, your thighs shaking as he kept working you through it, refusing to let up. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, licking his lips as he finally pulled back. “You look so pretty when you cum, baby.”

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before he was pulling his sweats down, freeing himself. It was as thick and heavy as ever, and the sight of it made your mouth water. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You ready for this, baby? You gon’ be good for me?”

“Please, daddy,” you begged, your voice shaky. “I need you.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he said, positioning himself at your entrance. He slid the head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you until you were whining in frustration. “Damn, you so wet, baby. You gon’ take all of me, huh?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you plead. “Please put it in..”

Jimmy finally pushed inside, and the stretch had you gasping, your nails clawing at his arms. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “You so fuckin’ tight, baby. Been missin’ me, huh?”

You could barely form words, the fullness of him stealing your breath. “Fuck… yes daddy,” you managed to choke out, your legs trembling as he buried himself to the hilt.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling back and slamming into you again. “This my pussy, baby. Don’t forget that.”

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you. Each thrust sent delicious shockwaves through your body, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You were already on the verge of another orgasm, your body still sensitive from your previous release.

“Why you runnin’, baby?” he teased, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. “This what you been actin’ out for, huh? So take it.”

“I’m tryin’ daddy!” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face as your second orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed beneath him, and you felt yourself gush around him, soaking his thighs.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his pace faltering for a moment. “You squirtin’ for me now? you so fuckin’ nasty, that’s my good girl.”

But he didn’t stop. If anything, he fucked you harder, flipping you over onto your stomach and pulling your hips up so he could take you from behind. The new angle had you screaming into the disarrayed couch cushions, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“You gon’ tell daddy you sorry again?” he growled, spanking your ass hard enough to leave a sting. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry, daddy!” you cried out, your voice muffled. “I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Yeah, you gon’ be good now, huh?” He gripped your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you mercilessly. “You ain’t got no choice, baby. Daddy gon’ fuck all that attitude outta you.”

Jimmy didn’t let up for a second. His grip on your hair kept you pinned in place as his cock slammed into you relentlessly, the sound of your ragged cries filling the room. You could feel the heat of his body pressing down on yours, his weight anchoring you as if there was no escape—not that you wanted there to be anyway.

“Look at you,” he growled, leaning over until his lips brushed against your ear. His breath was hot and heavy, dripping with amusement. “All that attitude, all that shit talkin’, and now you cryin’ for daddy, huh? You so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby. All obedient for me.”

You whimpered, barely able to form words as his cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. Your body was overstimulated, every nerve on fire, and the wetness between your thighs only made it worse. “D-daddy, it’s too much,” you choked out, trembling beneath him.

“Too much?” he repeated mockingly, pulling your head back further until you were arching against him. “Nah, baby, you can take it.”

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made your back bow, another broken sob spilling from your lips. Tears were streaking your cheeks as he fucked you harder, his pace unrelenting. The sting of another spank sent a jolt through you, the sharp pain only intensifying the overwhelming pleasure.

“Tell me what you is,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. “Go on, baby. Say it.”

“I’m—I’m your slut, daddy,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own moans.

“Damn right you are,” he snarled, slamming into you so hard the couch creaked beneath you. “And don’t you forget it. This is my pussy. Say it.”

“It’s yours, daddy..fuck!” you cried out, your voice breaking as you felt another orgasm building, threatening to drown you.

“That’s right,” he growled, pulling out suddenly and flipping you onto your back before you could even catch your breath. He hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he lined himself up again. “And I’m gon’ remind you every fuckin’ time you forget.”

The first thrust in this position had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your nails clawing at his arms as his cock hit a deeper angle. His weight pressed down on you, forcing your thighs against your chest as he pounded into you like he had something to prove. You could feel the muscles in his arms flexing beneath your hands, his strength keeping you pinned in place as he wrecked you.

“Fuck, baby, you feel that?” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. “Feel how deep I am? I’m right where I’m supposed to be, fillin’ that pussy up. And you gon’ take all of me like a good girl, huh?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his biceps as the pressure built inside you. “Please don’t stop—please…”

He smirked, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. The heat of his tongue against your sensitive skin sent you spiraling, your back arching as you came again, harder this time. Your body convulsed beneath him, the pleasure so intense it almost hurt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, his voice laced with pride as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “That’s my girl. You so good for me, baby. So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

Even as your body trembled and tears streaked your cheeks, he kept going, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls with every brutal thrust. “You said you wanted it, baby,” he teased, his tone both mean and sweet. “You been talkin’ shit all week so don’t tap out now.”

“Daddy, I—” Your words dissolved into a choked sob as he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. His hips snapped against yours with a punishing rhythm, the pleasure teetering dangerously close to pain.

“You cryin’, baby?” he taunted, leaning down to kiss the tears off your cheeks. “Aw, don’t tell me it’s too much now.”

“I can’t—Jimmy, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “You gon’ take it, baby. You was made for this dick, and I’mma remind you every fuckin’ time.”

He reached down between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. The added stimulation sent you spiraling, another orgasm tearing through you before you could stop it. You whimpered his name, your body trembling violently as your walls clenched around him.

“Shit,” he groaned, his pace faltering as your orgasm milked him. “You tryna make me cum, baby? You want daddy to give you a baby, huh? Want me to fill this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, daddy, please,” you whined, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please cum in me, daddy.”

That was all it took. With a low growl, Jimmy slammed into you one last time, his cock twitching as he came deep inside you. The warmth of his release filled you, and you moaned at the sensation, your body shuddering beneath him. He didn’t pull out right away, instead grinding into you slowly, making sure you felt every last drop.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “You did so good for me. Took it all like a damn champ.”

You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. “Thank you, daddy,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Ain’t no need to thank me, baby. You earned that.”

Jimmy finally pulled out, and you winced at the emptiness. He watched as his cum dripped out of you, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips. “Damn, look at that. You so fuckin’ sexy, baby.”

Your face heated up, turning your face away, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his voice softer but no less commanding. “You did good, baby. Real good. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

A small smile crept onto your lips despite the exhaustion weighing you down. “I love you, Jimmy.”

“I love you too, baby girl,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Now let’s get you cleaned up. You gon’ need your strength for round two.”

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4milly · 9 months ago

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that back. |R.R|

heyyyyyyyy. this is dedicated to @harmshake for inspiring me. love ya twin. ty always <3 ty for getting me out my funk and inspiring me.

and @shes2real. loveeeeeee ur fics. gotta go check em out if you haven’t.

warnings: pure smut. no plot. nun. just freakayyyyy. no one under 18.

parings: roman reigns x black!reader

“ah!” your fresh manicured white toes popped as your leg laid over your man’s shoulder

“i know, babygirl, i know…” he sighed into your neck as his hips continued to snap towards your pussy, “been a good girl all day for me…gotta give my baby her reward.”

roman loved being vocal during sex. he loved making your head spin and your heart swell with his words making you speechless. well…you were already speechless but yk what i mean.

he grabbed you other leg hiking it up further around his waist allowing you to feel him deeper, “why are y—you fucking me like this?” you strain latching your hand onto his back, digging ur nails into it attempting to relive the pressure in your center

“why not? tight ass pussy always ready for me. you hear her crying for me? let me show her daddy’s home.”

squelching noises echoed from around the room. you could feel yourself dripping down roman’s dick right onto the bed sheets creating a wet spot. your pussy swollen and worn out yet still squeezing down on him pulling him back inside for more. he loved you like this for him—a babbling, dizzy, dick drunk mess. you loved it even more.

he pampered you in and out of the bed room; this all starting from coming home to a hot bath waiting with candles and pink rose petals scattered around. you let him wash your body down, an intimate act all too familiar, before his washcloth covered hand got closer towards ur aching pussy—washing rubbing you there letting the heat from the cloth bring you towards your first orgasm of the night. you both quickly took it to somewhere it wouldn’t turn into a slip n’ slide…well?

that familiar feeling for the 4th time tonight pulsed inside your belly again ready to gush out onto your man’s dick.

“shit! You gotta stop scratchin’ me baby…” he hissed before throwing ur legs over his arms, pushing them towards either side of your head

his movements sped him, continuing to dig at your pussy making a mess in the middle of your thighs. bad choice.

you lived for your man’s back. the way his body loomed over yours like a shield felt nearly romantic. and it was beautiful to say the least. you knew if you kept leaving marks, he’d kill you for it in the morning. he’d have to cover up again, which would make him loose out on money. roman knew his fan base, the ladies wanted what they wanted. but fuck those hoes…you’d give them something to stare at for-sure now. you’d carve ur name with your nails if you could.

your nails caved inwards again in his skin dragging all around to relieve both the pain and pleasure your man was creating with the swivel of his hips. the vein in his dick pulsing against ur spot with the new stroke. your hips attempting to buck into the mattress to escape the new rhythm.

“you feel me baby? right in that pussy? right where i need to be, baby. you wetting it up so good baby. i’m not stopping till you cum on it.”

“f-fu-uckkk! i can’t roman, ah!” you sobbed out sinking ur teeth into his shoulder. your pussy clenching and unclenching, his dick desparate to find its hiding place in your pussy.

“why not baby? fuckin’ good ass pussy. gimme what i want, babygirl. get that nut.” he roared into your ear

not for the first time, you felt the white flash behind ur eyes as heat radiated from ur toes right towards your pussy. with a loud whine of incoherent words, your cum gushed out around roman’s still thrusting cock now with a new layer of your cum coating it, fucking your through it. you let out a mixture of screams and sobs as he chased his nut, fucking into you faster, the stimulation becoming too much to bare. your nails scratching roman anywhere it could, clawing at him.

“where can i cum baby? where you want it at?”

“in my pussy..” you whimper out hoarsely

“nah, speak up. Where you want it at, baby? i can come in this pussy? My pussy?”

“in my pussy! fuck! cum in meeee, roman. cum in me, pleaseeee.” you beg with a pout, he leaned down connecting your lips together. his strokes becoming erratic before you felt the long hot spurts of his cum spraying your walls.

“shit! fuck! i can’t stop, baby. ahh!” he moaned in your ear as his thrust slowed down. your breaths both racing to pull it back into your lungs

roman continued to feed you small soft thrust before pulling out. he eased your legs of your shoulders to watch the mixture of your cum oozing out of your pussy and dribble onto the bed sheets. he lowered a thumb to your clit to rub small circles, causing your pussy to convulse and push his cum out in bubbled pools. after, he used his thumb to finger fuck it back into you with a small whimper, he got up to grab a towel to clean you off.

“damn, baby!” you hear him call out from the dark bathroom

“what?” you strain out, still trying to catch your heart rate back to normal

“we gotta invest in some gloves or something for you, when we fuckin’ baby girl.” he reemerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand. you took the time to notice all the bright red scratches that coated his tanned arms, and the teeth marks in his neck. he did a small spin, to show you his back.

he damn near looked fresh out of a TLC match.

“shouldn’t have been fuckin’ me like that than.”

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greengoblinswifey · 3 months ago

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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.”

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romanreignsbae · 2 months ago

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sleepy kisses - R.R

At 3 AM, your whole house was still, the only sounds in the room being the soft rhythm of your breathing. You lay sound asleep, curled up under the warm blankets, unaware of the soft gaze Roman had fixed on you. His heart swelled with affection as he watched the rise and fall of your chest. He couldn’t help it. He was drawn to you in ways he couldn’t fully explain. Even though he should be asleep, he couldn’t fall into a slumber no matter how hard he tried, the back to back flights had completely destroyed his sleep schedule.

Roman had always been the quiet type, the type of guy who often got shy, especially away from his WWE persona, but when it came to you, he felt a need to be close, to feel your presence. The way you looked so peaceful, so beautiful in your slumber, made his heart skip a beat. Slowly, he leaned in, brushing a piece of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your soft skin.

A soft sigh left his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there longer than he had intended. Your face remained peaceful, your breath unchanging. He smiled to himself, unable to stop. Every time his lips met your skin, a little spark of joy spread inside him.

"You're perfect,” Roman murmured under his breath, his lips now tracing the line of your jaw as he gently kissed his way down. He could feel your warmth against him, and it felt so right to be close to you like this. He kissed your cheek, then your neck, as if trying to memorize every inch of you. His heart raced a little faster with each kiss, his mind flooded with the tenderness he felt for you.

He pulled back briefly, watching your peaceful face for a moment. Then, before he could stop himself, he kissed your lips, just a brief, tender press of his mouth against yours. He couldn't resist the urge to remind himself that you were really here, that you were his.

He mumbled softly, "I love you.." though you remained asleep, unaware. Roman nestled closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in gently. He kissed the top of your head and sighed, feeling like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 3 months ago

Text

"It was mine from the moment I touched it."

This is #2 out of 10 of my Phrase Series, hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Thank you @thatone-girly for the phrase!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Word Count: 2.4 k

~18+ THIS FIC CONTAINS SMUT!!~

Joe grunted as he checked the time on his watch. He gritted his teeth as he looked out the window at her house, all the lights were off indicating she wasn’t home. He sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back on the headrest. She was playing games and he was not in the mood.

He rechecked his watch before stanching his phone out of the cup holder. “Hey Siri, call Babygirl.” He put the phone on speaker before closing his eyes again.

“Please leave a message for 305-” Joe hung up the phone and opened their text thread

To Babygirl: you playin'… imma have to show you im not the one to play with.

Egypt groaned as her date for the night, Hakiem pulled up in front of her house. Joe’s white Cadillac Escalade stood out like a sore thumb in her driveway. Hakiem, who still had his hand on her exposed thigh arched his eyebrow and looked at her. “You good.”

“Yeah.” she sighed. “Just… don’t pay attention to anything he says.” She opened the door and got out of his car, leaving him confused for a second before he shut the car off and followed behind her. As they walked up the stone pathway to her house she heard the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut, signaling that Joe had got out of his car.

“You knew I was coming to see you today.” Joe started and Egypt could feel him staring at the back of her head as she fumbled around her purse for her keys.

“And I told you not to. We’re over Leati.”

“I’m sorry I can’t drop everything for you Egypt. You knew about my job and how important my role in the company is to me.” He shot back. He turned his attention to the man who was blocking Joe from getting to Egypt and sucked his teeth. By the way, the man was looking at him, Joe knew that he recognized him. “You gonna move or do I have to move you?”

“Joe!” Egypt chided just as she opened her front door. She turned around and stared at Joe.

“Look. I don’t know the situation or anything, but Egypt said she doesn’t wanna talk to you so maybe you should back off.”

Joe slowly blinked before turning his attention to Hakiem. He shook his head as he started to chuckle. Egypt gulped as she looked between the two men, she looked down at her heels and decided that she was not dressed properly to stop a fight between them.

“Joe…” Egypt trailed off, walking around Hakiem and standing in front of Joe, placing a hand on his chest. “Don’t.” Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Hakiem, I’ll text you later okay?”

Hakiem scoffed, his face scrunched up as he looked between Joe and Egypt. Hakiem’s brows knitted together, clearly not happy with the situation. He stood his ground, his jaw tight, but there was a hint of confusion in his eyes as he tried to make sense of Egypt’s request. He had come here to be with her, not to play peacekeeper between her and the man who still seemed to think he had some claim over her. “Deadass?” He asked, fist balling at the smirk that was now on Joe’s face.

“You heard her, leave.” Joe’s smile got wider as Hakiem slightly pushed Egypt out of the way and walked into Joe’s face. Joe didn’t move an inch, still standing there, his posture confident, almost smug, as if he knew exactly what Hakiem was thinking and was daring him to act on it. “Whatchu’ gon’ do? Huh?’

Hakiem’s jaw tightened as he glared at Joe. His fist tightened and before he could do anything, Egypt pushed him back and stood in front of Joe. Hakiem scoffed at how she was protectively standing in front of him. “Hakiem, please. Leave.”

“You heard the lady. Why don't you run along now? The grown-ups need to talk.”

“Nigga I’ll fuck you up -”

“Enough!” Egypt yelled over Hakiem. “You need to leave,” Egypt said locking eyes with Hakiem. “Now.”

“Man, whatever,” Hakiem sucked his teeth. “You probably wasn’t givin’ up no pussy anyway.” Hakiem rolled his eyes and stormed over to his car. Egypt could have sworn she saw him throw up his middle finger as he sped away.

Egypt rolled her eyes and then turned to walk into her house, not bothering to shut the food behind her because she knew Joe was going to follow her.

“We have one argument and you already tryna give my shit away huh?” Joe smirked as he followed Egypt into the home. He shut and locked the front door and enabled the alarm. Nobody would be leaving until the morning. He toed off his Jordans and left them at the front door before walking into the living room where Egypt was sitting on the couch massaging her feet.

“You ignoring me now?” Joe asked.

Egypt sighed. “Why are you still here?”

“You gonna put me out?”

Egypt sighed again and stood from the couch. She brushed past Joe and started walking towards her bedroom. She should have shut the door in his face when she entered the house. He was so infuriating. “What do you want?”

“You.”

Egypt huffed and startd to peel the bodysuit off her body. “You're unbelievable,” Egypt muttered, her back to Joe as she shimmied out of the tight fabric. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her skin.

Joe leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. “I'm unbelievable? You're the one who had some random ass dude at your house.”

Now only dressed in her bra and panties, Egypt turned around and glared at Joe while folding her arms over her chest. “Let me remind you, you walked out on me. All I asked for was more of your time.”

“And you know I come here wherever I can. I can’t just not show up to work, Egypt. I can’t be around my kids because you wanna cuddle and watch movies all day. I told you I love you and I meant it. But you gotta grow up. I can’t be with you 24/7. I’m a grown-ass man with responsibilities.”

Egypt scoffed and shook her head. “You’re absolutely right.�� Turning on her heels, she marched into her closet. Joe huffed and sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for her to come back. When she did reenter the room, she was dressed in an oversized white t-shirt. “You’re a grown man with responsibilities and I don’t fit into your life.”

Joe let out a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get it. I’m trying. I’ve asked you multiple times to move to Miami with me and you said no. I asked you just to visit and you said no. I asked just for you to come on the road with me, not all the time but maybe a couple times a month and you said no. I’ve been trying to build something with you, but every time I try, you shut me out. I’m not asking you to leave everything behind, but I’ve made it clear that I want you with me. And every time, you say no. So what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Egypt felt her resolve crack a little. Moving to Miami would be a huge step for her. She would be leaving behind her family and all her friends, most of whom she has had since middle school. Joe knew that Egypt leaving her parents behind would be hard for her.

“I know you’re scared of leaving your parents,” he said, his voice steady but soft, causing Egypt to look up at him.“'But I’m just asking for a chance. For us to really try and make this work."

“I’m scared Joe.” She finally admitted and Joe stood up from the bed and walked over to her, pulling her into his arms. “What if I leave everything behind and it doesn't work out?” She whispered into his chest “What if we don’t work out? I don’t want to lose you, Joe.”

“Won’t ever happen,” Joe said matter of factly. “I’m not promising you that everything will be perfect, Egypt. I promise you that we’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together, no matter what happens. I’m not going anywhere. And I won’t let you go through this alone.” Joe gently cupped her cheek in his hand. “Do you trust me?” He whispered looking deep into her eyes.

Her heart skipped, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. She stared back into his eyes, searching for any trace of doubt, any sign that he might not be as sure as he was saying. But all she saw was certainty—certainty in him, in his commitment to her. “Yes.” She whispered back.

Joe’s hand gently slid from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and without a word, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft at first, tentative as if Joe was giving her one last chance to change her mind. But as Egypt melted into his embrace, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, more urgent. Joe easily lifted Egypt into his arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. Joe carried Egypt over to her bed and gently laid her down. He quickly rid himself of his black OTC hoodie and black Nike fit shirt.

Egypt did the same as she sat up on the bed and pulled the oversized t-shirt over her head, leaving her in her bra and panties again. Joe licked his lips as he climbed on the bed, his body covering hers as she laid down once again. Egypt let out a moan when Joe started trailing kisses down her neck and towards her breast. With his eyes locked onto hers, he quickly unclasped the front clasp. He cupped her breast in his hand, his thumb brushing over her hardening nipple while his mouth closed over the other. Egypt arched her back, gasping with pleasure as Joe's tongue swirled around her sensitive nipple.

Joe's hand slid down her stomach, tracing the curve of her hip before dipping between her thighs. He stroked her through the thin fabric of her panties, feeling the heat and dampness there. Egypt gasped and rocked her hips, craving more of his touch.

“Joe.” She moaned. “Please.”

He smirked as he released her nipple from his mouth. “Tell me you love me.” He said as he stared trailing kisses down her stomach. Egypt let out a blissful sigh and Joe dipped his tongue into her belly button.

“I love you.” She moaned out as he scraped his teeth against her sensitive skin. Joe hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down. She lifted her hips to help him pull them down.

He paused and she opened her eyes to look at him. “We gon make this work. Me and you.”

Egypt nodded eagerly. “Yes, baby. Me and you.” Her sentence broke off into a moan as Joe’s tongue finally made contact with her sensitive clit. Her back arched off the bed. She reached for his hair and let it out of the bun he had it in.

Joe let out a low groan as her essence flowed into his mouth. Joe gripped her thighs, spreading them wider as he devoured her. He looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers, he winked at her before he placed a kiss on her clit.

He smirked at her as he rose to his full height. Egypt rose to her elbows and watched as he pulled his sweatpants and his briefs down. His eyes hungrily raked over her body. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” He muttered. He climbed back into the bed as Egypt reached for him. He positioned himself between her thighs and captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as his hands roamed her curves.

Egypt wrapped her legs around Joe's waist, pulling him closer. She could feel his hard length pressing against her entrance, teasing her. Joe broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, as he slowly pushed himself into her stretching and filling her. They both groaned at the sensation.

“Fuck.” He groaned, resting his forehead against hers. “I miss you baby. You missed me?” Egypt nodded, unable to talk because of how good Joe was making her feel. Joe quickened his pace, driving into her with more force. Egypt's moans grew louder, filling the room along with the sound of skin against skin. “Good ass pussy.” He muttered against her neck as sucked a hickey onto her neck. “Tryna give me shit away.” He abruptly pulled out of her and turned her on her stomach.

Egypt immediately got into position. Face down ass up. A small blissed-out smile on her face as she knew what was coming. Joe gripped both her ass cheeks in his hand as he spread them. He licked his lips as he buried himself back inside her. He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against her ass with each thrust. Egypt gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckles turning white as waves of pleasure coursed through her body.

“This my pussy.” He growled out, “Tell me.”

“Joe” Egypt moaned, mouth wide open. “Fuck… it’s yours.”

“I know it is. Shit was mine from the moment I touched it.”

Egypt felt herself spiraling towards the edge, her body trembling with each powerful thrust. Joe's possessive words and dominating presence only heightened her arousal. She pushed back against him, meeting his movements and taking him even deeper.

"That's right, take it all," Joe grunted, his fingers digging into her hips. "Show me how much you missed this dick."

Egypt cried out in ecstasy, her inner walls clenching around him. “Fuck… I wanna cum, can I cum?”

Joe's hand snaked around her waist, his fingers finding her sensitive bud. He rubbed tight circles as he continued to pound into her from behind. "Come for me, baby," Joe commanded, his own breathing ragged. "Let me feel that pussy squeeze me."

Egypt let out a loud moan as her orgasm hit her. Joe continued to thrust into her causing her to squirt all over his lower half and her sheets. Joe stilled inside her as his orgasm hit him. He pumped into her a couple more times before dropping down onto the bed next to her and gathering her into his arms.

“I love you Egypt,” Joe whispered after his breathing had gotten under control. “I want this to work with you. I can’t lose you either.” He said and she smiled up at him.

“I guess I gotta call a moving company in the morning.”

Authors Note: ... was it worth the wait? 🤭 THANK YOU FOR READING!! sorry if the ending is ass... I didn't know how to end it 😬.

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@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sadnni @xmonetsworld @christinabae

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@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @rianasixx

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#wwe fanfiction #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x fem reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black fem reader #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #wwe smut

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luna-thecreator · 2 months ago

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Sweet Spot

A/N: Sorry this one took so long, college has been kicking my black ass, but im back with a juicy Roman fic!

Paring: Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A bold ultimatum turns into an irresistible claim when you demand your place in Roman Reigns' Bloodline. What starts as a power struggle quickly turns into something far more intense as Roman asserts his dominance.

Tags: Oral, (female receiving), language, p in v, smut village, claiming, 18+, USE YOUR IMAGINATION BABE!!!

“The Tribal Chief will be back soon after his interview, Y/N. You really shouldn’t be in here—”

Paul Heyman’s voice carried that usual mix of authority and nervousness, like he was trying to keep the peace but also lowkey freaking out. Classic Wiseman behavior. But before he could finish, you hit him with a cold, uninterested stare and cut him off.

“I don’t care… Paul.” You dragged his name out like it tasted bitter on your tongue. Your arms crossed over your chest, your body language screaming defiance as you dropped into one of Roman’s ridiculously expensive leather chairs, making yourself comfortable. “I’m staying right here until I talk to Roman about the Bloodline.”

Paul’s mouth opened, then shut like a fish out of water. He clearly wasn’t used to people shutting him down, especially not when it came to anything involving Roman. He adjusted his tie, the slight fidget a dead giveaway that he was scrambling for a way to handle you without setting off a nuclear-level argument.

"Y/N," he started again, voice softer now, like he was trying to reason with a child throwing a tantrum. "I understand your frustration, but decisions like these take time. The Tribal Chief has a lot to consider—”

You scoffed, leaning back in the chair like you owned the damn place. “Paul, don’t give me that ‘decisions take time’ speech. Roman’s been stringing me along for months. Either I’m in, or I’m out. No more waiting around while he plays mind games.”

Paul’s lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he wanted to say something slick, something wise and calculated, but you were past the point of caring. Your patience had been worn down to nothing. You weren’t just some random outsider begging for a spot—you had proven yourself. You had bled for this. And yet, Roman still hadn’t made the call.

Paul sighed dramatically, rubbing his temples like you were personally giving him a migraine. “This is not how things work. You don’t just demand to see Roman. You wait for him to summon you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Summon me? Paul, be fucking for real right now. I’m not some peasant waiting on a royal decree. If Roman wants loyalty, he needs to show me I’m not wasting my damn time.”

Paul exhaled sharply, clearly at a loss. He checked the time on his phone like that was gonna magically make Roman appear faster. “If you just wait—”

“No,” you cut in. “I’m done waiting.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock on the wall. Any minute now, Roman would be walking through that door. And when he did, you were gonna make damn sure he finally gave you an answer.

You adjusted the black dress draped over your body, subtly pulling at the slit running up your thigh. The fabric clung to your curves just right—not that you planned it for Roman, but if he noticed, well… that was his problem.

Paul gave you one last lingering look, one that screamed you’re playing a dangerous game, before he sighed and exited Roman’s private room. The door shut with a soft click, leaving you alone in the space that practically reeked of dominance and control.

Minutes passed as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone, pretending like your heart wasn’t racing. Like you weren’t anticipating the moment he walked through that door. And then—

Click. Thud.

Your head snapped up at the sound, and there he was.

Roman Reigns.

Dressed in a sleek black suit, crisp white shirt, and a tie that somehow made him look even more powerful. His presence alone sucked the air from the room, commanding attention without a single word. And damn, did he look good. So good that heat crawled up your neck before you could stop it. For a split second, you almost forgot why you were here in the first place. Almost.

His sharp eyes locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, before one eyebrow quirked up.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his voice was smooth, teasing, laced with amusement. “Who let you in here?”

The way he said sweetheart sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your composure, tilting your chin up as he stepped closer. He shrugged off his suit jacket and placed it on the chair beside you, the fabric brushing against your arm like a silent reminder of his presence.

You swallowed, clearing your throat before answering. “I—I let myself in.”

He hummed at that, walking over to the small table in the corner, pouring himself a cup of coffee like he had all the time in the world. The casual dominance, the way he moved, the sheer confidence—infuriating.

“And where’s Paul?” he asked, lifting the cup to his lips.

“He left.”

That made him pause. His head turned slightly, eyebrow raising again.

“He left?” Roman repeated, almost like he didn’t believe you. Paul never left before he was back. Ever.

You crossed your arms, refusing to shrink under his gaze.

“So, let me get this straight.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still locked on you. “You invite yourself in… and then run off my Wiseman?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pulse flickering under his intense stare.

“I wouldn’t say run off,” you muttered, shifting slightly.

Roman smirked, setting his coffee down with a soft clink. He took a step closer, the air between you growing heavier with every movement.

“Mm. That so?” His voice was low, edged with something dangerously amused.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to punch him or let that voice do dangerous things to you. Maybe both.

You straightened your back, squaring your shoulders as you met his gaze head-on. No more games. No more waiting.

“I’m here to tell you that I’m not waiting anymore, Roman,” you said, voice firm despite the way his presence made your pulse spike. “It’s either I’m part of your Bloodline, or I’m not. I mean, it’s been months, and I—”

You didn’t even get to finish.

Roman lifted a hand, cutting you off without a word. The simple gesture was enough to shut you down, not because you wanted to stop talking, but because there was something about the way he did it—calm, effortless, like he already had control of the entire situation. Like you were only here because he allowed it.

Then, before you could react, he moved.

Two long strides, and he was right in front of you, towering over you, his scent wrapping around your senses like a noose. Clean, masculine, laced with expensive cologne and something undeniably him.

His eyes flickered down to yours, dark and unreadable.

“Up. Now.”

A command. Not a request.

Your body reacted before your brain could catch up, pushing up from the chair without hesitation.

You stood, arms crossing over your chest as you forced yourself to hold his gaze. Even in heels, he made you feel small, like he could swallow you whole if he wanted to. The heat rolling off him, the authority dripping from every inch of his stance—it was infuriating.

And yet, you still obeyed.

Roman moved around you with a slow, calculated pace, like a predator circling its prey. Every step was deliberate, heavy with unspoken authority. You felt his presence even when you couldn't see him, the energy in the room shifting with every move he made.

Then, he stopped behind you.

The heat of his body ghosted over your back, close enough that you could feel him but not close enough to touch. His fingers landed on your shoulder, featherlight but firm, sending a shiver down your spine.

“It’s risky,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, the kind that made the air in your lungs thin. “And you’re too sweet.”

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head immediately. “I’m not sweet,” you shot back, voice sharper than you intended.

Behind you, Roman chuckled, the sound deep and knowing, like he was in on a joke you weren’t privy to.

“Sweet,” he mused, his fingers trailing lightly over your shoulder before pulling away. “But not fragile.”

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he was getting to you.

“I can handle it,” you said, turning your head slightly but not fully facing him.

Roman didn’t respond right away. Instead, he let the silence stretch, let the weight of his presence press into you, let the moment settle in a way that made your pulse hammer against your ribs.

Then, he leaned in just a fraction, voice nothing but a whisper against your ear.

“Are you sure about that, sweetheart?”

You inhaled sharply, the warmth of his breath still lingering against your skin. Roman didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he stepped away, walking toward the locker in the corner of the room, leaving you standing there, your body still buzzing from his proximity.

You turned slightly, watching as he opened the locker with ease, rummaging through it before pulling out a black T-shirt. Bold red letters stretched across the fabric.

Bloodline.

Your breath hitched.

Roman turned back to you, holding the shirt in one hand as he strode forward. The look in his eyes was unreadable—calm, unreadable, but undeniably intense.

“This is yours,” he said simply, stopping just inches from you. His voice was smooth, but there was something deeper laced within it. Something that made your stomach twist.

He held the shirt out, his fingers brushing against yours as you reached for it.

“Was gonna give it to you next week,” he continued, eyes flickering over you like he was assessing you all over again. “But you’re so damn bold… so here.”

Your fingers curled around the fabric, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stared down at the shirt in your hands, the bold red Bloodline lettering staring right back at you like it was daring you to make a choice. The room felt heavier now, charged with something unspoken, something dangerous.

Roman took a step back, arms folding across his broad chest as he watched you. He licked his lips, the slow drag of his tongue over them making your stomach tighten.

“How about you put it on right now?” he said, voice smooth, low, but laced with authority. Like he wasn’t really asking.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and the intensity in them made your breath hitch. He was testing you. Waiting.

You exhaled slowly, then—without breaking eye contact—you reached for the hem of your dress and pulled it over your head in one swift motion, leaving you in nothing but your black lace bra and matching panties. The air in the room shifted instantly.

Roman’s jaw clenched. His eyes darkened, flickering over your body with a heat that sent shivers down your spine.

You smirked slightly, then took your time slipping the Bloodline shirt over your head, letting it fall just below your thighs. The fabric was soft, the scent of him still lingering on it.

Roman exhaled sharply through his nose, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath before stepping closer, his fingers grazing the hem of the shirt as he looked down at you. “Fits you good, sweetheart.”

You tilted your chin up, your own smirk growing. “I told you I belong here.”

Roman chuckled, low and deep. “Guess we’ll see about that.”

Your back hit the wall before you even realized he was moving. Roman was on you in an instant, his sheer presence crowding your space, making the air between you crackle with tension.

His eyes locked onto yours, dark and unwavering, his expression unreadable—but his intent? Crystal clear.

“Rules,” he murmured, unbuttoning the top of his shirt, his fingers slow, deliberate.

Your breath hitched, chest rising and falling faster as you swallowed hard. “Rules?” you echoed, barely recognizing your own voice.

Roman’s jaw clenched, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips before he leaned in, his breath ghosting over your face.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, rough, possessive. “Mine. Not Jey’s. Not Jimmy’s. Not Solo’s. Mine.”

The way he said it, like it was law—like it was already written in stone—made your stomach tighten. Your pulse hammered against your ribs as his hand lifted, fingers grazing the hem of the Bloodline shirt now hanging loosely on your frame.

“You understand that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice thick with something dangerous, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You licked your lips, your throat suddenly dry. But you didn’t back down. You wouldn’t.

“I understand,” you whispered, your voice softer than you intended.

Roman smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was dark. Satisfied. Like he’d just won.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, his fingers tracing the edge of your panties. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with promise. “I’m gonna pull these down, taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you—hit that sweet spot over and over, just to remind you of exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into.” His words were low, dangerous, and laced with an undeniable intensity.

The heat surged through you as he slowly slid your panties down, his touch deliberate and teasing. You gasped, breath hitching, "Roman—" you whimpered, unable to hide the desire creeping into your voice. His gaze never left yours, intense and unwavering, as he slid his middle finger between your folds, making your pulse race even faster.

He set a slow, teasing rhythm, his fingers moving in a steady pace, the sound of your wetness filling the room, making the atmosphere thick with tension. "Oh god—" you moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure coursed through you. Roman’s jaw tightened, his grip firm as he continued, his pace unrelenting, each movement deliberate, driving you closer to the edge.

"This what you wanted, sweetheart?" he groans in your ear, his pace quickening, pushing you further into a haze of pleasure. You struggle to catch your breath, "Mhm... yes..." you whimper, your body betraying your words.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out, his grip shifting as he hooks his arms around your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up against the wall. He raises you so high that your pussy aligns directly with his face, and the shift leaves you breathless, heart pounding.

Roman’s breath was warm as he hovered just inches from where you needed him most, his lips so close that every exhale sent a new wave of desperation coursing through you. Then, without warning, he blew a slow, teasing stream of air against your wetness, the sensation making you jolt in his grip.

"You’re dripping, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction, with control, with possession. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and heavy with intent, waiting—watching—as your body reacted to his every move.

The heat between your thighs throbbed, and your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, desperate for more. But Roman? He took his time, his hold firm, ensuring you had nowhere to run from the way he was about to ruin you.

That was the moment you lost all control—the second his tongue darted out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe against your slick heat without warning. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall as a surge of pleasure shot through you like wildfire.

“F-fuck—” you stuttered, your voice barely above a breath, but he didn’t give you a chance to gather yourself. His grip tightened on your ass, his fingers digging in possessively as he held you in place, completely at his mercy.

Then, he latched onto that sensitive bead, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, making your entire body jerk in response. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your thighs trembling around his head as you instinctively tried to press closer, needing more—needing everything.

He groaned against you, the vibration sending another pulse of pleasure straight through your core. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “Let me hear you.”

Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging helplessly as your legs threatened to give out—not that he’d let you fall. He had you trapped, exactly where he wanted you, and he wasn’t stopping until you were completely undone.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with hunger and unrelenting dominance. The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch, anticipation coiling in your stomach like a tightly wound spring.

Without breaking eye contact, he shifted his hold, dropping his left hand, leaving you suspended with only one strong arm wrapped around your waist. The sheer power he possessed sent a shiver down your spine, reminding you just how effortlessly he controlled you.

With his free hand, he worked the button of his slacks, then the zipper, his movements slow—calculated. The sound of fabric rustling filled the room as his slacks slid down his legs, pooling at his ankles, followed by the drop of his boxers. Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, thick and hard, standing tall beneath you.

Roman smirked at your reaction, his grip tightening. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he rasped, amusement laced in his deep voice.

You swallowed hard, unable to form words, but the need pooling between your thighs said enough.

He didn’t give you time to dwell on it. Instead, he adjusted his stance, his large hands gripping your thighs as he guided you down, letting gravity and desire take over. Your back slid down the wall, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation of his warmth pressing against you.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips the moment you felt him stretching you, inch by inch, your walls molding around his thick length. Roman groaned, his head falling forward as he buried himself deep inside you, his grip bruising as he held you still.

“Fuck—” he growled through gritted teeth, his breath ragged. “You feel even better than I thought.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure and pain blended into something euphoric, leaving you breathless. “please—ooHH MY GOddd” you whimpered, voice breaking in agony.

He lifted his head, his nose grazing yours, his lips ghosting over your parted ones. “What, baby?” he taunted, rolling his hips just enough to make you whine. “This what you wanted?”

You barely managed a nod, your body trembling in his grasp.

He smirked, dark and wicked, his hands tightening around your thighs as he pressed you harder against the wall. “Good,” he murmured, voice dripping with authority. “’Cause I ain’t lettin’ you go now.”

His dark hair slipped free from the messy bun, cascading over his broad shoulders as sweat glistened on his golden skin, accentuating every defined muscle and intricate tattoo under the dim lighting. His pace was relentless now, each deep thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body, pressing you harder against the wall.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low, guttural grunts. His grip on your thighs was firm, possessive, holding you in place as he drove into you with a punishing rhythm.

Roman’s head tilted back slightly, his jaw clenched, his breath heavy. “You wanted this, didn’t you?” His voice was deep, laced with raw dominance. His piercing eyes found yours again, dark and full of hunger. “Wanted to be part of my Bloodline so bad…” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, making you cry out.

You could barely think, let alone respond, but that didn’t stop him.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “Then you’re mine now, sweetheart.” His teeth grazed your earlobe before he sucked it between his lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto. “R-Roman—” you gasped, your voice breaking from the intensity.

He chuckled, dark and amused, before pulling back just enough to meet your dazed, pleasure-drunk gaze. “From now on, every Friday night,” he murmured, rolling his hips slow and deep, making you whimper, “I’m gonna fuck you into my Bloodline.”

A sharp cry left your lips as he picked up his pace again, pounding into you harder, making good on his promise.

With one last deep, punishing thrust, Roman buried himself to the hilt, his grip on your thighs tightening as a guttural groan ripped from his throat. Your body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure crashing over you in powerful, shuddering waves.

“Oh my—Roman!” you gasped, your head falling back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure consumed you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop of his release as his breath came out in ragged pants against your ear.

“Fuck—” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours as he rode out both of your highs, his body trembling slightly from the force of it. His hands slowly loosened their bruising grip on your thighs, fingers grazing over your heated skin as he took deep, steadying breaths.

Your chest heaved against his, bodies still tangled together as the aftermath of your passion settled in the air. The only sounds in the room were the mingling of your unsteady breaths, the cooling sweat on your skin making you shiver against him.

Roman smirked, his lips barely ghosting over yours. “You good, sweetheart?” His voice was thick with satisfaction, but there was something else there too—something possessive.

You swallowed, still dazed, nodding weakly. “Yeah…” you breathed out, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

He chuckled lowly, his nose brushing against yours as he finally—slowly—slid out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. He kept a firm hold on your waist, ensuring you didn’t collapse the second your feet touched the ground.

Your legs felt weak, unsteady, and Roman smirked knowingly. “That was cute,” he murmured, amusement lacing his voice as he held you up.

You rolled your eyes, even as a small smile pulled at your lips. “Shut up,” you muttered breathlessly, swaying slightly as you leaned into his solid chest for balance.

Roman reached for his discarded suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his touch surprisingly gentle as he smoothed the fabric down your arms. His fingers lingered at your waist before he pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up with a single finger.

“You’re mine now,” he said, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. His dark eyes bore into yours, possessive and intense. “No backing out.”

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in your chest. There was no denying it—you had just crossed a line that couldn’t be undone.

A slow, knowing smirk spread across your lips. “Guess I’m in the Bloodline now, huh?”

Roman chuckled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip before leaning in, his lips hovering over yours.

“Damn right, sweetheart.

#smut #fanfic #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fic #tribal chief #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction

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spiicii · 5 months ago

Text

the og bloodline / bloodline property (part one)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa x fem!reader word count → 4k summary → you belong to the bloodline, in every sense of the word. and your job is to serve. links → masterlist / bloodline property (part two) tags → multiple partners, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, hair-pulling, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive behavior, hickies, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, creampie, begging, light choking, crying, overstimulation

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Jey groaned in your ear, his hands braced on either side of your head as he continued to thrust into you. You opened your legs wider to provide more access, allowing him to grind deeper, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix.

Jey always started with you first. He was so good at getting you open and relaxed, so much sweeter in comparison to his brothers. He was always gentle, pressing chaste kisses against your cheek as he made sure you felt good. With Jey, it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to make you happy. Wanted you to enjoy it.

“You gon’ hurry the fuck up or what?” You heard Jimmy snap, always impatient.

Jey threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Chill out, uce. We ain’t in a rush.”

Jimmy let out a huff, pacing the length of the room in frustration. “You takin’ too fuckin’ long. She needs a real man to show her what’s up.”

Jey curled his lip, a scathing remark on his tongue, before Roman’s booming voice interrupted them. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

You couldn’t see him, not as Jey kept you caged between his arms, impaled on his cock, but Roman's next words left no room for argument. “Enough with the bickering."

The twins obeyed, though you could still see the annoyance on Jey’s face as he looked back down at you.

“Just ignore him, babygirl,” he whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “You know I ain’t gon’ leave you hangin’. You know I always give you whatchu want.”

He always did.

You felt his hand reach down between the two of you, his long fingers finding that small, sensitive bud with ease. You felt sparks shoot down your spine at his touch, your legs falling open further just so you could feel more.

He chuckled against your skin, picking up the pace of both his hips and his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

He leaned up and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft, his kiss gentle as he continued to fuck into you, his fingers playing so perfectly with your clit that you found yourself writhing against him.

You threw your head back and searched for Roman, your mouth open as soft moans fell from your lips.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, your thighs beginning to shake. “Please, can I come?”

The Tribal Chief was the only one who could grant you permission and you were pleased when you heard him off to the side, out of your line of vision, say, “You can come, pretty girl.”

The orgasm was perfect. It always was with Jey. Pleasure unfurled from your core as you sank deeper into the mattress, your muscles relaxing as the tension released. Jey wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours.

“Gonna fill you up, babygirl,” he gasped in your ear and that was the only warning you got before you felt him paint your walls white, warmth spreading inside of you at the feeling. He let out a contented sigh, continuing to press sweet kisses into your skin.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing another kiss against your lips. You offered him a lazy smile, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure he’d given you.

“Alright, alright, come on, uce. Move it.” Jimmy was already at your side, shoving at Jey in an effort to get him off of you.

Jey scowled, but he slowly pulled out of you, your body shivering from the feeling of emptiness.

“Will you chill out for two fucking seconds? Jesus, you act like you ain’t ever gon’ get a turn.”

“I been waitin’ all day. And I ain’t got time to sit here while you doin’…whatever that was.”

“Man, if you don’t-”

“Enough.” Roman’s voice quickly shut them up. He was used to this. The twins almost always bickered when they fucked you together. It was just their way. They were too competitive. And a little too possessive for someone they were meant to share.

Jey threw you a cheeky wink before finally climbing off of you, Jimmy already tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you up to meet him.

“Been waitin’ to fuck this pretty pussy all day, little girl,” he growled, quickly hauling you to your feet. Jey preferred to fuck you in missionary, his face close to yours so he could kiss you and watch your eyes cross in pleasure. Jimmy, on the other hand, almost always fucked you from behind, holding you out on display for the entire world to see. He enjoyed grabbing you by the hair, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you from the back.

As he manhandled you into position, you met Roman’s gaze. He was sitting in the chair near the door, watching you with hooded eyes as Jimmy shoved you forward onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips brutally as he lined up behind you.

The Tribal Chief was generous and usually let his cousins go first on nights like this. He wasn’t hurried, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock by the end of it anyways. You may be Bloodline property, but Roman was the chief. You belonged to him.

Jimmy pushed into you, his cock thicker than Jey’s, causing your back to arch at the feeling. He let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, beginning to pump in and out of you. “You sure you fucked her, Jey?”

“Fuck off, man.”

You glanced over and saw that Jey was standing near Solo, both of them watching as Jimmy pounded into you from behind. Solo was always difficult to read, his eyes dark as he stared at you. Had it been a few months ago, you wouldn’t have known what he was thinking. Now you knew that the distinctive twinkle in his eye was lust, the barest, imperceptible tick of a jaw the only sign of his impatience.

He’d have a turn after Jimmy. That was how things usually went. If the Bloodline was anything, it was traditional. All four men were creatures of habit, which is perhaps why it hadn’t taken long for you to learn their routine, easily falling into their lifestyle. It had been difficult at first, managing all of their varying personalities, their different schedules, but you had learned.

Now as Jimmy continued to drill into you from the back, the tug on your hair bordering on painful, you were reminded of the very first lesson you had learned with them: you belonged to the Bloodline, in every sense of the word. They had claimed you. Owned you. Body and soul.

Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips, and you felt stars explode across your vision as he hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, your knees almost buckling from how good it felt.

Jimmy pulled tighter on your hair and your mouth fell open, soft moans spilling from your parted lips. You heard Jimmy chuckle, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew it would bruise.

“What a good slut,” he snarled, his pace relentless as he bullied you towards your next orgasm. “You gonna come on this dick?”

You tried to nod but his grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy growled, smacking your ass for good measure as he kept up the brutal pace. The roughness of his thrusts combined with his incessant abuse against your g-spot had you spiraling towards orgasm. Again.

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, meeting the Tribal Chief’s gaze as Jimmy pulled on your hair so hard again tears sprung into your eyes. “Please, can I come?”

Roman’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he replied. “Come again, sweetheart.”

You felt the tension inside you snap, Jimmy wringing the orgasm from your body with each sharp thrust of his hips. Your walls contracted around him, causing him to groan.

“That’s right, little girl. Imma finish right here inside you. Right where I belong. Fuck!”

Jimmy yanked at your hair so hard that you were forced to stand, his hands now wrapping around your neck as he pulled you back against his chest. His grip tightened and you felt him release inside you, a new warmth spreading between your legs as he finished.

The world was still for a moment, your ears ringing like a jet had just flown by, until Jimmy finally relaxed, slowly loosening his fingers from the tight grip he’d kept on your neck.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He slowly pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling some of his come leak out and trickle down your leg. Jimmy chuckled, pressing another kiss into your hair. This was the only time he was sweet like his twin, the post-orgasmic bliss making him tender and soft. You melted in his arms, allowing him to lay you softly back on the bed. He gently pushed you back against a pillow, his hands warm against your heated skin. “You always so good for me, pretty girl.”

You leaned into his touch and Jimmy smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. He soon moved away, another hand now on your face, this one much bigger.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned across your neck. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?”

You let out a low whine, already reaching out for him, despite the gooey feeling in your arms. You heard Roman let out a chuckle, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You went easily, allowing his strong arms to wrap around you and bring you closer, your legs falling on either side of his hips to straddle him.

You realized now that things were not following their usual order. Usually, it was Solo who went next, leaving hickies and marks across your neck and chest as he fucked into you. You turned around instinctively to look for him, your brow furrowed in worry.

“Aw, you worried about Solo, babygirl?” Roman’s tone was patronizing, roughly grabbing your chin to look back at him. “Don’t want him to feel left out?”

You whimpered as he kept a tight grip on your chin, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked up at you. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing your chin to cup your cheek. “Solo will get his turn. I just couldn’t wait any longer. You looked too perfect tonight. I just couldn’t help myself…”

He ran his hands across your body, admiring the way you reacted to his touch, your hips already rolling forward to meet the erection that was nudging against your inner thigh. He allowed you to take what you wanted, sinking onto his cock with ease, your toes curling at the full feeling inside of you.

“Good girl,” he praised, running his hands along your sides, his face now close to yours as he pressed sweet kisses against your jaw. “You like sitting in Daddy’s lap?”

You nodded, reaching out to touch the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest as you began to move your hips, never taking your eyes off his.

The Tribal Chief was smirking at you, his large hands encircling your torso. “Such an eager slut, aren’t you, baby? Already been fucked twice and you still want more?”

You rolled your hips again in answer to his question, the feeling of him inside you erasing all thoughts from your brain, bliss overtaking your body. He always made you feel like this, his cock so thick and long that it completely filled you up, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust, no matter the angle. You could have sworn your insides had morphed to fit him perfectly and he seemed to agree.

“Just like you were made for me. Such a good girl for your Tribal Chief.”

Your eyes fluttered at his praise, rolling your head back as he pressed wet kisses to your exposed neck, teeth nipping at the pulse point beneath your jaw. You felt yourself clench around him and he laughed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as you began to grind on top of him.

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Gonna take what you want from me?”

“Yes, please,” you moaned, grinding further down so your clit could make contact with his skin. “Please, Daddy. I want you so bad.”

He laughed, the sound rumbling through the large expanse of his chest. “‘Atta girl,” he praised, allowing you to control the pace. “Take what you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

Yours. Yours. Yours.

You lifted your hips and sank down again, gratified to hear the Tribal Chief make a pleased sound beneath you. You don’t often get him to ride him like this. He’s normally grabbing you and taking what he wants, almost always manhandling you to show off his incredible strength. Seeing him laid beneath you, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he watched you bounce up and down was rare. And you wanted to enjoy it.

You planted your hands against his tattooed chest, attempting to gain more leverage to lift yourself higher, moaning at the feeling of his dick splitting you open as you straddled him. You picked up the pace, the feeling of him inside you sending tendrils of pleasure shooting across your body.

“That’s it,” Roman encouraged, using his free hand to keep you steady above him, his touch keeping you grounded. “Don’t hurt yourself now. I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl.”

You obeyed, slowing your movements, but only a little. You rocked up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. He made you feel so good. You weren’t sure how it was possible to feel this good, your skin tingling all over, soft pants falling from your open mouth as you rode him.

“Greedy thing, ain’t she, uce?” You heard Jimmy’s voice somewhere behind you, but you could hardly focus on it, tension beginning to coil inside you for a third time as you took what the Tribal Chief offered you.

Roman chuckled at his words, watching you with amusement as you bounced on his dick in desperation, chasing your own pleasure.

“So greedy she needs four men to take care of her, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

You nodded at his words though you were having difficulty hearing him, your own heartbeat in your ears.

Roman growled and pulled you closer, no longer lounging against the headboard as he wrapped his arms around you. This angle pushed him deeper inside and you gasped, stars exploding across your vision.

He began moving his own hips, thrusting up into you with easy strength, one of his hands tangling in your hair. He was impossibly deep now, and you felt your pussy spasm at the feeling.

“I know I let you fuck my cousins,” he growled in your ear, your pussy clamping down on him as he thrust into you harder. “But who do you really belong to? Who owns you, pretty girl?”

You were barely moving on your own now, Roman now fully taking control and shoving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you felt like you might pass out. Still, you somehow found the words he wanted to hear. “You, Daddy. I belong to you.”

The grip on your hair tightened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. And so were you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I come, Daddy? Please?”

“Come, pretty girl. Come on your Daddy’s dick.”

This orgasm was brutal, your thighs shaking in pleasure beneath Roman’s large hands. You felt yourself gush around his massive length, triggering his own finish. You heard him let out a groan, his grip on you tightening as he came.

He pumped a few more times into you, just to ensure that you took every last drop of his seed, before finally holding you still, his breath warm against your neck.

“Good girl,” he praised, releasing the grip on your hair and allowing your head to fall against his shoulder. “Such a good slut. You did so well.”

Your limbs felt heavy, your body now sensitive after three orgasms so close together. You shivered as Roman pulled out of you, more come dribbling out of your leaking cunt onto the bed below. Your breath was shaky, your muscles trembling from exertion.

“Come get her, Solo. She’s ready for you.”

You could barely register the Tribal Chief’s words, suddenly feeling your body being lifted off of him and into someone else’s arms. Solo’s arms. You immediately relaxed, nuzzling against his neck, body limp as he carried you.

He set you down gently against the mattress, propping you up against a pillow before climbing on top of you without much preamble. You opened your eyes to look up at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you met his intense gaze. His dark eyes were fiery, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you. His gold chain dangled in front you, glinting in the bedroom light.

“Solo,” you breathed, his name easy on your lips. He hardly ever spoke to you, but you had learned that he appreciated it when you spoke to him, even if he didn’t always show it. You reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, offering him a smile.

“She looks so fucked out, uce,” you heard one of the twins say. “Think you can get her to come again? She might be done.”

Solo’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that he was annoyed at his brother’s words. You knew that he didn’t mind fucking you like this, your body soft and pliable beneath his large hands, so easy for him to manhandle into any position he wants.

When he pressed his thick cock into you, you felt your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling bordering the fine line between pain and pleasure.

He was thicker than all of them and you usually had to take at least one of his brothers first just to prepare yourself. Even now you’d taken three dicks, and you still weren’t prepared for the burn as he stretched you out, small puffs of air escaping from your parted lips.

Solo let out a low groan as he gave you another inch, his mouth already latching onto your neck as he suckled a bruise against your skin. He loved marking you up, more possessive than either of his brothers. He wanted the whole world to know that you were his, more than happy to mottle your neck and chest with bruises. He finally bottomed out and you let out a whimper at the feeling, the burn at being stretched by his massive girth positively delicious. But he didn’t move. You met his gaze and saw that he was looking at you, almost expectantly. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to know that you needed him.

“Please, Solo,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I need it. I need you. Please.”

His eyes darkened and before you fully realized it, he was pulling out and ramming back in, the thrust sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine as his thick cock massaged your walls. You couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped your throat, overstimulation prickling at your exhausted muscles.

Solo continued to grind into you, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again, another bruise blossoming beneath his mouth. Solo had always been good at keeping you right on the edge between pain and pleasure, whether it was his massive cock splitting you open or his lips suckling a bruise beneath your jaw. It always left you head spinning, the feeling so euphoric that you almost feel like you’re floating.

His teeth grazed the delicate skin against your windpipe, and you moaned again, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you.

“Need you so bad, Solo,” you pleaded, looking back up at him in desperation. “Please, I can’t…I can’t-”

Another one of his thrusts had you whining, pleasure licking across your tired limbs like wildfire. Your nails dug into his shoulder as you pulled him close, the sound of his name leaving your lips spurring him on as he continued to drill into you.

Solo leaned down and you felt his lips ghost across the shell of your ear. “You want me, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice so low that only you could hear. You let out a gasp as he dragged across your g-spot, his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“I want you so bad,” you whimpered, pressing small kisses against his neck. “Please, I need you. Give it to me, please. Please…”

You couldn’t speak anymore. Not as his hips snapped against yours, tension growing in your abdomen at the feel of him inside you. He reached around and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it forward to allow better access to your puffy cunt. A strangled moan escaped your lips, and you felt like he was splitting you in half, your g-spot so abused by now that you weren’t sure you could take it anymore.

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words on your lips, but you couldn’t. Your head felt empty, Solo’s cock pistoning in and out of you with such force that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk again for days.

“Daddy,” you managed to whisper, your eyes glazing over as Solo grunted, raising up your other leg to push you into a full mating press. A strangled scream ripped from your throat and tears sprung into your eyes. You were completely helpless beneath him now, pinned to the bed beneath his massive weight, his cock feeling like it was sawing you in half.

The tension inside you was coiling again, but you still couldn’t find the words to ask for permission, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. There was only one word you could think of.

“Daddy.”

You repeated his name like a mantra, your body no longer your own as Solo drilled into you, your legs next to your ears.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

You heard the Tribal Chief’s voice and almost wept at the sound.

“Daddy, please.” You still couldn’t find the words, your eyes unable to focus on anything except Solo’s dark eyes, dangerously close to the edge of your fourth orgasm.

“Use your words, princess. What do you need?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was soft, and you felt your entire body tense.

“I can’t…” You gasped, Solo’s face blurring as tears began to fall. “Please…I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” Roman’s voice was firmer now, and you knew it would displease him if you came without permission. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”

Solo’s hand found your clit and you screamed again, though this time you used your words. “Please, can I come? Please, please, please.”

“Come, slut.”

Your vision went white. The pleasure was so intense that your entire body shook, walls spasming helplessly around Solo’s massive cock. You wanted to move, but you were still pinned to the bed, your feet still by your ears as Solo held you down. You were vaguely aware of the sounds you were making, alternating between high-pitched whines and fucked-out whimpers. You might have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Solo grunted in your ear, finally spilling into you as he chased his own pleasure, coating your insides with his seed.

You weren’t sure what happened after that. Your vision was blurry with tears, your throat hoarse from your screams. You felt Solo finally release you, leaning up and allowing your legs to fall back onto the bed. You felt his come trickle from your abused hole, all mixed together from the multiple loads you’d taken from his brothers and cousin.

You felt someone’s lip on your forehead, pressing a tender kiss to your fevered brow. “Such a good girl.” he murmured, his tone soft. “You serve my bloodline so well.”

_____

next part: bloodline property (part two)

1K notes · View notes

punkssavior · 3 months ago

Text

tired of you.

| cm punk x fem!reader

my wwe fic tumblr debut. feeling chaotic.

title is a foo fighters song!

“regret, anger, and a pair of gym shorts.”

content warnings: post breakup. smut. angst. pet-names. choking. mentions of blood/semi-blood play. pain kink. pnv, riding.

i definitely went off the rails and lost the plot along the way.

wordcount: 8.3k

There was something wrong with you.

Maybe, the problem was the pounding headache. The one that’s lasted three days so far and felt like a doldrum banging in your skull.

Maybe, it was the streaks of eyeliner that stained your lower lashes and wouldn’t wipe off no matter how hard you tried.

Or maybe, just maybe, the problem was the urge to reach for your phone and dial up the number of a man who you know wouldn’t right his wrongs.

Yeah, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

It was a Saturday night— alone in your one bedroom apartment. A quiet, dreary week that led right into a hellscape of a weekend. You were always told that breakups were hard, but never this hard.

The stubborn heart that beats inside you almost took hold of the reins when the thought of calling Punk crossed your mind. But the more logical part of your body, your brain, ultimately decided that— maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

The breakup was far from mutual. If anything, it was completely one sided. The last thing you remember from that night a few weeks ago was standing in your apartment door with angry tears in your eyes as Punk drove away from your duplex in a torn down Chevy Malibu.

Like nothing even happened.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could stare at your TV in boredom, watching the same rerun of action movies that played every Saturday night around the same time.

It was getting late.

Maybe you should get some sleep.

But God knows your mind wouldn’t allow it.

As you stand up to gather the growing pile of blankets that collected in the midst of your ‘breakup-self-loathing’, you begin to fight that intrusive urge once more.

You couldn’t call. It was way too late. He was probably asleep, or out somewhere training like he’d do when he couldn’t.

You didn’t want to bother.

Because that’s the last thing you ever wanted to be.

Bang, bang.

Your head whips around; two loud knocks at your door almost rattled it right off its hinges.

Bang, bang.

With a cautious air, you walk to the door and rest your hand on the knob. Before you could even begin to twist it, there it was again.

Bang, bang.

Soon enough your heartbeat matched up with the rhythm of the pounding door— making you anxious enough to look through the peephole.

Low and behold, as if he could read your mind from the miles that separated your apartment from his, there Punk stood. Leaning on the bannister that held up your rickety old porch with his arms crossed tightly to his chest.

It was cold, about 30°, yet there he was in a t-shirt, long dark hair slicked back, like he’d just walked through the rain. You freeze in your tracks, hand shaky over the brass doorknob as you debate opening the door.

Would you let him inside? Would you banish him out to the cold and make him talk to you from behind the threshold? Would you finally stick up for yourself and act like you were asleep? Hoping maybe, just maybe, he’d fuck off and take a hint?

You didn’t want either of those things. You didn’t want him to stand out in the cold, or turn around and leave.

You’d been secretly waiting for the moment where he wouldn’t care about the consequences of his actions.

Nor did you want him to “take a hint”.

You swing the door open, acting completely on instinct. But your breath is caught somewhere in your larynx when you realize that he is actually standing there.

“Nice jammies, player.”

“What do you want?”

Your heart stops. The words you spoke were completely off rip, seeing him in person for the first time in weeks must’ve carried a lot more weight to it than you anticipated.

Punk’s straight face morphs into a smile, his eyes darting down your figure and back up again.

“Came here for the gym shorts you stole. I did my laundry this morning and realized they were pretty much all gone.”

“So— why didn’t you come this morning? Instead of trying to break my door down at midnight?”

You cross your arms over your chest, the black and pink heart pajama set that he had gifted you for Valentine’s Day this past year seemed to be the star of the show. The draft from the outside was cold enough to send chills up your spine, as Punk stood there and just looked at you.

Come to think about it, maybe it wasn’t the wind.

“I was busy. Surely you were too, no?”

“I‘ve been here all day. Maybe if you called and asked, you would’ve known that.”

As you stand slightly elevated before him in your bunny slippers, you can’t help but notice the way he keeps inching closer.

“Well, maybe if you’d answered my calls from last week, we wouldn’t be standing here in the cold. Face to face. At midnight.”

You freeze, as he rattles off, your hands moving to your hips.

He called you last week?

“You called me last week?”

“Mhm. Sure did.”

A puff of air leaves your chest, noticing the now rising goosebumps across his sleeves of tattoos, and feeling slightly guilty about keeping him out in the cold.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you call me?”

Punk chuckles, brushing a lock of that slick dark hair behind his ear. He looked amused, to say the least— maybe he just wasn’t grasping onto the concept of breaking your heart and smashing it all to pieces. Maybe he thought that reaching out to you would be the good little ego boost he needed to carry on his week in the training gym.

“I called because I wanted to check in. Y’know— see how you were doing.”

Your brow furrows, in an attempt not to show him your hand of cards. Truthfully, your heart skipped about seven beats at the way his voice softened, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“You’re joking, right?”

“And why would I joke about that?”

Punk leans on the doorframe, his eyes darting behind your shoulder at the living room that the two of you used to cuddle up and watch movies in. Maybe the sight of it after the breakup was finally cracking that iron-clad cage around his heart.

You never understood Punk. Not fully, at least.

Despite a three year long relationship that ended abruptly on a random Wednesday night— there were so many layers to his character that you just begged and pleaded to understand. He was caring, but sarcastic. An open book, yet somehow there were pages stuck together by an immeasurable amount of glue.

You wanted to learn more, your only wish was to be able to speak in a language that the both of you understood.

You figured that maybe, three years just wasn’t enough time.

“Wanna come inside?” you ask softly, breaking the silence, your voice barely reaching the surface of the now whipping wind.

“Only if you’ll have me.”

As you step back and let him in, you just— watch.

You watch how he kicks his sneakers off in the same exact spot he always did whenever he’d get home from the gym. You watch him anchor himself onto the wall, as if he were about to dig into his pocket and hang up his car keys on the hook that’s remained vacant since he left.

Must’ve been a repeated habit, or muscle memory. But your chest tightened at the thought either way.

“Your shorts are in my dresser,” you hum, still fighting the feeling of heartburn as he moves fluidly through your living room, “I could go get ‘em if you want.”

“Like I don’t know where your bedroom is. You think I’ve got amnesia or somethin’?”

Looking at Punk felt like a slap in the face. A hard one, at that.

His tight, perfectly fitted t-shirt molded to his cut body, contrasted to the loose gym shorts that hung just above his knees made you want to scream at him for being so visually appealing. But instead, you just smiled warmly, and bit your tongue.

There’s a brooding cloud of silence looming over both of your heads. An unspoken tension thick enough to cut with a butcher knife. Punk was acting casual, a bit too casual for your liking. I guess he figured that those stupid, sea green eyes searing into your forehead were enough to let you forget about what happened in this very room.

“Look, maybe you hit your head on the way here because last I checked, you dumped me. And now— here you are, standing in my living room.”

A catty smile flashes across Punk’s face, his lip ring catching in the light above your kitchen island as he leaned on it with that familiar sense of cockiness.

The one you knew, the one that you unfortunately loved.

“Shit, okay— we’re taking a bit of a leap here, aren’t we?”

“Tell me the real reason why you’re here. And don’t fucking bullshit me.”

The jumble of hurt words you’d been pushing down your throat for weeks— finally had a target. Your voice betrays you at the end of your sentence, fleeting off into a much weaker tone than you anticipated.

“I already told you why. I’m here for my shorts.” His posture straightens as he speaks, putting up his guard as the tension rises.

“Bullshit. You know I fuckin’ hate when you lie, dude. What is this, a wellness check? Did you feel so inclined to check up on my sorry-ass to the point where it kept you up at night?”

Punks hands come up in defense as you move an inch closer, wagging a helpless, beaten down finger at him. Yet that smug smile painted on his cheeks remained, only making you more enraged.

“Wellness check? What the fuck is your problem?” his laughter is indignant, as if he were pitying you, “You really think I’d drive down here in the middle of the night to smile in your face and laugh at you?”

“Newsflash, dickhead. You’ve been doing that this whole time.”

In seconds, Punk’s face switches back to a blank slate. He seemed visibly taken aback by your words. His hand, still dawned in a piece of old wrist tape, clung to his chest.

“Wow. Well, I’m sorry— for trying to keep the mood light— and greet you at your door with a fuckin’ smile when I know damn well that I’m the last person you want to see right now… But have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re not the only half of this mess suffering? Maybe you’re not the only one who stays up way later than they should, thinking about where everything went wrong?”

As he grows more animated, he nears closer, to the point where you could still smell the remnants of his cologne and see the drops of frustrated sweat beading on his forehead. You wanted to keep screaming, but your voice was caged behind gritted teeth. You guarded yourself with your arms, mimicking his posture as you crossed them over your chest.

“Well maybe you should cut some slack for the girl you left crying in the doorway, Punk.”

His stage name shoots off your tongue like poison, now in a heated face-off with the man you once loved.

And maybe still did, beneath the scratched up, broken down surface. That was the reason why this all seemed so complicated.

“Do you want your fucking shorts, or not?—”

“—Keep the damn’ shorts, Y/N!” He cuts you off before you could even dream of continuing.

Another silence falls over the room after all the shouting, only the TV in the background filling only half of the void that was your brain right now. Despite getting those harsh words off of your chest, a part of you felt inclined to say no more. You figured you’d done enough irreparable damage to both yourself and Punk. It was in your best interest to leave it be.

“Sorry for yelling,” you mumble, a bit sheepishly.

Punk still stood against your kitchen island, his hand now rubbing his temples between middle finger and thumb.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Awkward. That was the word to describe it. After airing out grievances, finding out that you weren’t the only party in this sick and twisted dance with a lingering feeling that tugged on your heartstrings, everything else surrounding you was just awkward.

You stare at Punk intently, letting him shake his head and mutter curse words under his breath.

“I’m sorry for coming here unannounced. But what I said was true.”

“Hm?” you hum, worried that if you said too much, his vulnerability would be guised as a momentary lapse of judgement.

“I still think about what happened.”

A deep breath catches in your throat the moment his eyes meet yours. It was hard to look at him in general after all that you’d been through, but it was even more difficult to pull yourself away from the defeated, sorrowful expression on his face.

Being so openly honest and true to his inner monologue was a rarity for Punk. You could tell how much he hated the fact that he was admitting this to you, let alone standing once again in your living room after already breaking your heart.

“Seriously,” you begin to say, bridging the gap between your bodies with a sharp tug on his wrist, “Tell me why you came here. If it wasn’t for those two pairs of stupid shorts that you haven’t asked me about in two and a half years, then what was it?”

Punk grimaces, still beaten down by his own honesty, “You just don’t let up, do you?”

“Answer me, asshole.”

You were still aggravated, and the quickly tightening hold you had on his arm was proof of that.

“I came here because I missed you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” A wave of something much more dreadful than relief washes over you— it seemed more existential and off putting than anything. “I missed your face. Your voice. The scent of your perfume. The way you bitch me out to get off and have a good time fuckin’ doing it.”

“I— I genuinely do not believe you,” you mutter, tripping over your words, slightly twisting the skin on his arm in pure, unbridled frustration, “There’s gotta’ be some other excuse.”

Punk’s face comes to a pinch, mulling over your words while simultaneously experiencing the burn from your untamed grip on him.

“There’s no other excuse,” he blurts, bordering a whine, “What? You want me to admit that I’ve been up for days? Unable to sleep, to eat, to wrestle, to fuckin’ unwind and jerk off without the thought of you crossing my mind? Is that what you want?”

Your jaw clenches at the rise you’re getting out of him, wanting nothing more than to smack him across the face.

“Maybe you should’ve said this all to me, what, a month ago? Instead of trying to pop by on a Saturday night like I’m one of your idiot friends?”

It was getting to a point where your nails were surely leaving marks, his arm fully surrendered to you as you took out your pent up anger on one of his innocent limbs.

Punk’s face tightens, the gap in his teeth visible as he writhes in discomfort, “Jesus fuck, you’re hurting me—”

“Touché.”

Having almost completely given up on trying to fight your cat-like grip on his arm, Punk does the unthinkable. With a crooked, masochistic smile, he wraps his free arm around your waist and pulls you straight into his chest.

“You wanna fight dirty?” he asks, his voice a low, rigid grumble.

Rather than replying, due to the sheer shock running through your spine, you just nod your head meekly.

“We can fight dirty,” a wry chuckle leaves his lips as he leans into your angry face, “Baby, those eyes of yours are quite telling.”

“I’m sick of your shit, Punk,” you spit, still tangled in his sultry words, “it’s too hot and cold with you.”

“Really? Tell me more. I saw how you froze up when I said that I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Tell me that my words didn’t leave a mark in that pretty head of yours.”

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck

This was getting to be too much.

You wanted to pull away; but the thought of tasting his lips again after you were forced away from them for so long just seemed intoxicating.

“I don’t have to answer you,” you mumble, trying your hand at defending yourself whilst simultaneously breaking your neck to ignore your desires.

“But I bet you really want to.”

You swallow hard at the feeling of his blistered palm trailing across your side. And your nails continued etching marks into his flesh; the closer he got, the harder you tugged .

“We’re not together anymore. I have nothing to fucking say to you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with speaking your mind though, right? That’s what you used to tell me…”

That burning feeling in your chest was back again— like hot lava rising up your throat. You wanted to retort, but couldn’t help but notice how he was completely ignoring the small pooling of blood from the gashes on his forearm.

“…Remember what you used to say to me, Bunny? ‘Don’t be afraid to show a little bit of that heart, Punker. Acting like you care won’t kill you.’ Man, if only you could see yourself right now. Being a damn hypocrite…”

“Stop it.”

The nickname he’d revived from the dead felt like a karate chop to the throat, all while he was still holding you tightly to his chest. His body language read passion, but his words oozed anguish.

He glanced down to your lips, eyeing them with a crooked smile.

“What? Stop what? Stop trying to get you to break down those stubborn walls of yours and be honest with me? I know I hurt you baby, but you can’t keep it all bottled up forever.”

You grabbed him tighter. Tighter. Tighter. Until his face came to a pinch and he was yanking his arm from between your bodies.

He hisses at the sight of trickling blood running down his colorful tattoos, eyeing you shamefully like you were a dog that just crapped in the house.

But rather than letting that anger carry over into another screaming match, he takes the hand that you’d held hostage, and runs it through your hair.

“Bet you needed to let that out, didn’t you?” Punk coos, a complete 180 switch in his demeanor, that same hand trailing down your cheek towards your neck.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Ditto, player.”

SMACK.

Your palm lays flat across the side of his cheek, his head whips to the side. A surge of searing anger seemed to free itself the moment your hand connected with his skin, a small splatter of his blood from your fingertips painting across his jawbone.

He shakes his head, and looks at you, that grip he had on your hip tightening as his eyes narrow, and bore into yours.

“You asked if I wanted to fight dirty, didn’t you?” your voice is weakened by the sheer force of that smack. But Punk just nods like a pompous asshole, a slow and desperate smile sliding across his face with the corners of his mouth coming to a Cheshire-cat-like point.

In moments like these, you had to remind yourself of a few things. Punk knew you better than anyone else— your friends, most of your immediate family, even the people you’ve met in passing and spilled your guts to on a whim. You and Punk would spend hours just talking. About anything. About nothing. There was something about his demeanor that drew out the most vulnerable, tucked away parts of your person.

He also had the ability to use what he knew against you. And from the facial expression he made, and from what you could tell from knowing him, he knew that smack held a lot more weight than just pure anger.

He was into it. You were into it.

With a low, practically inaudible growl, Punks hand slides up the front of your body. You could feel the roughness of his palms and the cool touch of his fingertips lingering from standing out in the cold, as he makes his way past the little plastic buttons of your pajama top.

“I love it when we fight, Bunny,” he grumbles, that hand making its way to your throat, “You wanna show me how angry I make you? How much of an asshole I am for breaking your heart?”

Your breath sputters when he clamps his hand down, gently squeezing the sides of your throat. You could only imagine how you looked to him right now— still a bit ticked off, but now a whole lot more desperate.

“I want— an apology.”

“Really? That’s all you want from me right now?”

As you open your mouth to squeeze out an answer, he presses the pads of his fingers into your neck, hitting that blissful pressure point and instantly relieving your three-day-long headache.

“Yes. That’s it,” you breathe, finding it hard to concentrate on only one feature of his face.

The hand of his that stayed stagnant on your hip began to travel downwards, following the curve of your ass all the way down to where it met your thigh. You swallowed, feeling the pressure from his hand fighting the building, anxious saliva from going down.

“Are you sure about that? You don’t seem very confident—”

“—Yes. Yes. For the love of God, please just—”

Your sentence becomes more and more incoherent as Punk slowly spins you around. Your body replaces his, leaned against the kitchen island, still feeling cowardly beneath his over 6-foot stature.

“Just what? Wanna hit me again?” his eyes narrow with challenge, the grip on your throat still in charge of this dance, “Do it. Hit me again. Show me that you’re not afraid to show me what’s on your mind.”

SMACK.

The sheer power from the second slap loosened Punk’s grip on your throat— you breathed out shakily at the loss of the contact, feeling the delayed sting that shot through your palm the moment your knuckle cracked his jaw.

He eventually frees your neck from his hold to aid his wounded cheek, rubbing it softly as those viridian eyes ask you for a favor that his words had yet to reach.

“Jesus Christ baby. You sure know how to lay a good one don’t ya?”

“Fuck you.”

Your palm began to throb in time with the beating of your heart, the surface skin now tender from two measly slaps to a man who gets hurt for a living.

“Fuck me? Alright. If that’s all you have to say then—”

SMACK.

“I hate you! God, I fucking hate you!”

That dry, fervid rage suddenly morphed into a mess of soggy tears— your words biting violently as they fanned across his now helpless face.

You couldn’t help yourself from crying. As if you hadn’t done enough. But now, in the same vein of feelings you felt the moment you saw his silhouette through the peephole, crying was really the only thing you could do.

“I—I am so fucking sick of you! Who the fuck do you think you are? Coming to my apartment, standing there with that stupid, shit-eating smile. Acting like you didn’t have any part whatsoever in ruining my goddamn life!”

“Y/N, I—”

As much as you wanted this to be a civil conversation, there was no turning back as the tears rolled down your face and onto the floor.

“I’ve been crying over you for weeks. Weeks. You left me. After telling me our relationship was practically meaningless. After dumping me with zero fucking explanation! I’m tired of you, Punk. So. Fucking. Tired.”

Silence.

The tears just kept on coming, there was nothing you could do to stop them from searing hot streaks down your face.

Nothing you could do to stop you from yelling now, either.

“Fuck you! Fuck your stupid hair. That stupid shit box car you drive. Your stupid piercings— and stupid tattoos that you refuse to get touched up because I said I liked them the way they were!”

Punk’s face was a blank slate. All it took was for you to start barking out your qualms with him, and suddenly he was at ease like a soldier.

In the heat of your tirade, you slither out of his arms, angrily marching over to the couch and picking up a throw pillow.

“I can’t fucking believe you. You would think three years meant something, right?! But noooo. Not for Mr. CM Punk. You got to carry on life as usual after you left my house that night. You got to parade around your ring, hearing a crowd of people chant your name like you’re the second coming of Christ! All while I was at home sobbing over gym shorts! Fucking gym shorts!”

The pillow you’d been smacking against your hand was perfect ammo to toss at his head; you grunt as you throw it, listening to the pitiful thud as it slams against the wall behind him.

“You want the shorts? I’ll give you the fucking shorts. The same way I gave you the hours it took me to sew your fucking name onto the tags like you asked me to!”

Your throat felt like sandpaper, your heart racing at 90mph and fluttering with every honest truth you spoke.

“I bet a selfish part of you missed having me around, didn’t you? Because without me, who makes you breakfast in the morning? Who else sits through your God-awful, mean jokes when nobody else is around to hear them?”

It was getting harder to stay away from him now, the adrenaline rush that came with smacking him across the face was the last little push you needed for your penultimate sentence.

“Who else is there, Punk?” the volume of your voice lowers when you take a hurried step closer to him.

SMACK.

“Who else fucks you like I do?”

For a split second, you see the glass in Punk’s eyes shatter. You see all of his rugged features soften and he searches your face for something, anything to say.

But just when you think he’s about to pull away, and curse you out for berating him with your spiteful tongue, his lips crash against yours in a bruising kiss.

You melt into him instantly, all of the pieces of your scrambled up puzzle falling back into place the moment his hands hold you against his body.

His cheek was tender, hot to the touch, and your hand was still lingering from that one final smack, yet he encouraged you to cup his face as it hovered in the aftermath.

The initial kiss grows more primal, a twisted dance of heavy breathing and knocking teeth brings Punk’s hands to travel.

Suddenly your mind is back where it started, an unshakable feeling of wavering uncertainty as he lifts your leg to rest on his hip.

“You— you don’t get to do this,” you stammer, not making any attempt to regain your composure, “you don’t get to just— walk in here and destroy everything I’ve been working so hard to rebuild.”

Your noses knock against each other as your breathing becomes one, Punk pulls away with a tug at your bottom lip.

“Then tell me to leave. Push me away. Kick me out.”

As you open your mouth to retort, his body rolls against yours, leaving your head to spin and freeze up like it always did whenever he turns you on.

“Go on, Bunny,” he continues his torturous drawl, bending down to nip at the sensitive skin behind your ear as he whispers, “Tell me to leave.”

A quiet whimper takes over whatever else you’d planned on saying. Any and all remnants of anger from your rant had suddenly disappeared.

“You—”

Your sentence is cut short by your other leg being picked up off the ground. You gasp, clinging yourself to his hips as he spins you, holding you between the wall and the rising warmth of his body.

“You know I can’t do that, you fuckin’ asshole.”

Another searing kiss, one that made stars pass behind your eyelids as his hands held you tighter. Tighter. Tighter. Surely the pads of his fingers would leave bruises in only the places he could see— he loved to know that he was the only one to touch you in the places that get hidden beneath layers of cotton and lace.

He always did. He always will.

A gasp flies past your lips, and his, as he adjusts his grip on you, nailing you higher to the wall with the sheer weight and force of his lips. His own twisted form of crucifixion.

“God, you’re addicting,” he mumbles into your cheek, his line of kisses getting sloppier as he can’t decide where to pay attention to, “You slapped me ‘till my face went raw… You scratched me ‘till I bled…”

A groan of his own interrupts his string of lustful sweet nothings, only for you to take it as your opportunity to grab his chin in your hand.

You look him in the eye, still feeling the burning sensation in your chest— but this time, it wasn’t anger. It wasn’t sadness. It was fighting that feeling that you could never quit.

As you look at him, you take your thumb, still stained with blood from before, and trail it across his bottom lip. His lips and chin are defiled with that perfect shade of scarlet — his eyes glittering as you paint him red.

“…And you cursed me out like a fuckin’ bitch,” he chuckles wryly, his tongue flicking out to catch the blood you’d left.

“And yet—” You cock your head to the side, your features fully softening for the first time since he arrived at your door, “—you’re still here with me.”

Before you could even think, Punk is grabbing at the buttons on your pajama shirt and anchoring you to the wall with his hips. His actions are frenzied, popping open the first, second, and third button.

“Fuck this,” he grumbles in frustration, fully surrendering, tugging at the bottom hem and lifting that black and pink heart printed pajama top over your head in one full swoop. You can’t help but chuckle as he tosses it behind his head, and gets straight to work on worshipping the valley of your breasts with open-mouthed kisses.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Bunny,” he breathes out between each time his lips press against you, “I wanna slap my damn’ self for breaking your heart.”

As he caters to you, you find your hands lacing through his hair, pushing it back to reveal a slit in his eyebrow. The same one he refused to shave back in no matter how many times you asked.

Maybe he thought that you seeing it tonight would help him get lucky.

And judging by the position you were in right now, it clearly worked its magic.

“All these sweet nothings aren’t gonna change the fact that you’re an asshole,” you state plainly, but finding it harder to speak due to him pinning you against the wall.

“You can call me— whatever the hell you want,” says Punk, tucking a strand of your frizzed up hair behind your ear.

The heated encounter had blindly begun to move towards the couch. You found yourself going limp in his arms the moment there wasn’t a sheet of drywall holding you up like a puppet on strings. Punk had you completely at his mercy— although fast-paced, steamy, extremely desperate sex was a staple in your repertoire.

“Is this how you planned on apologizing to me?” you ask, tailing off your sentence with a squeak as he tips you back to lay on the couch.

Punk crawls his way up your topless body, licking a stripe from your belly button all the way to the start of your jaw.

“Wasn’t planned, no. But I suppose that fucking it out to the point of forgiveness is better than a healthy conversation, right?”

Although forgiveness wasn’t a thing that crossed your mind until now, the events that had unfolded within the past thirty minutes had your head in knots. How could a man who you’d sworn off ‘till death come back into your life, simply with a bat of his pretty eyelashes and a flash of the gap in his teeth?

Maybe Punk’s visit was the universe telling you that you’d met your match. You simply couldn’t stay away.

After any and all clothes that barred access to the places he needed you most were removed, you found yourself swimming in a pool of dizzy, love-drunk thoughts. Punk took his time with you, yet still seemed as though he was rushing to get to where you needed him most.

“Fuckin’ Christ, I missed you. I missed you so much,”

Punk groans, taking a moment to stare into your soul before dipping down to bite at your bottom lip with his teeth.

You sigh in bliss, having not felt the touch of him, or anyone else for that matter, since the last time you saw him. As fucked up as it was, you missed this feeling.

You really missed him, too.

“Can I?” you begin to say, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt after another pick up of that steamy makeout session.

“Of course. Anything you want. Have me topless, have me naked, fully clothed, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

You chuckle at his eagerness, he helps you in taking off his tee, and your mind freezes up when you notice the beginning of a tattoo on his chest.

“Is this new?”

You trace the outline of ink with your manicured finger, following its shape all the way to the curve of his shoulder.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Been thinkin’ about a chest piece for a while.”

“Mmmh, yeah?” you hum, a fluttering feeling rumbling through your stomach the moment you realize that his hand had travelled to the waistband of your panties. “Chest tattoos are fucking sexy.”

Punk smirks, inching that wandering hand down past the waistband of your underwear towards your throbbing core. He bites his lip, that silver lip ring getting caught in the crossfire.

“Glad you think so, Bunny.”

An immediate wave of pleasure crashes over your senses the moment you feel his finger tease at your dripping slit. He always took the time to make sure you were fully ready— but you were afraid that your screaming match from earlier had you more hot and bothered than you’d like to admit.

“Punk, c’mon—” you whine indignantly, writhing beneath him as he slowly starts to spread your own wetness across your folds, “Not getting any younger here.”

“Impatient now, are we?” he bites back, making it a point to slowly, tauntingly dip in and out of your entrance with his slender finger.

You can’t help but moan out in purse frustration— impatience, as he called it.

“If you don’t hurry this along and fuck me already, I’ll send you home with blue balls and no gym shorts.”

As he opens his mouth to retort, you shoot your hand down to catch his wrist, shaking your head at him disapprovingly.

“Don’t remember you ever being this desperate to get fucked, Bunny,” he chuckles lowly, keeping you and your stamina on its toes as he flips your position to have you straddling his lap, “And here I was thinking you were a fan of the slow, sappy shit.”

“People change, y’know,” you shrug, finding a comfortable position to grind your hips down onto his bulge as you slide your hands up his chest towards his throat, “I think you may have ruined me for good.”

Punk was an athlete. He was quick on his feet, and even quicker to get into the minds of anyone he deemed a worthy opponent. When it came to you, the most worthy of them all, he read you like a book. Cover to cover.

“Ruined you?” he asks, watching your hands climb his chest towards his throat, “Is that why you felt so inclined to almost kill me earlier?”

You clasp your hands around his throat, pushing out a shaky sigh from his chest. A smile spreads across your face like wildfire, your hips now wielding a mind of their own against the hard-on in his shorts.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be dramatic— Are you going soft on me, Punker? I thought you liked it a little— rough.”

When you looked back down at his face, what you didn’t expect to see was an airy grin. Punk must’ve done a lot of thinking in the time you were apart— because the Punk you knew a month ago wouldn’t stand for a second of this role reversal. But now, it seemed as though he was basking in the art of submission.

Safe to say, you had him whipped once again.

Fucking finally.

A low rumble from Punk floats to your ears, the first sign of his bleeding impatience. His eyebrows furrowed, the tip of his nose twitched, all while your hands were still wrapped around his neck and gently squeezing the pressure points on either side.

“I really meant it when I said you ruined my life, y’know,” you coo to him quietly, rolling your hips down past his crotch in order for your mouth to be level with the new ink traced on his chest, “Because now, I can’t think of anyone else who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Bunny…” Your nickname sounds like prayer in his gravelly voice, as you take your time and nip at the sensitive skin above his peck. Your teeth leave bruises in their traces, but you knew he didn’t mind.

“I really did try to forget about you. It’s true— but I just couldn’t help myself… Thinking about those big, sad, green eyes every time I slid my hand between my thighs t’ try and get myself off.”

A trail of bruises adds on to the weight of your words— all of which were true. You thought you’d had it all under control the moment your relationship with Punk ended. But the harder you tried to forget about those aforementioned eyes or the spiteful, sarcastic bite of his tongue, the more you really fucking missed it.

“You’re fucking evil, you know that?” Punk gasps, a broad hand flying to brush rogue hair from your forehead.

“What about me is so evil? The fact that you loved me so good and fucked me so hard that you stained my conscience?”

In a lingering spike of anger, you dig your nails into his abdomen, watching his muscles flex beneath the grapple you held. Punk winces, returning the favor with a tug at your hair.

“I don’t think it’s evil. I’d say you left your mark,” you add onto the torture, dragging your nails past the tattoo on his stomach towards the waistband of his shorts, “And now, I think it’s only fair that I leave mine.”

The speed in which your lips reattached to his should've been a worthy competitor to the speed of sound; moans catching between heaving, desperate breaths as Punk held you like you were the last thing he’d ever touch.

“Take your fuckin’ shorts off—” you demand, a lightning bolt of confidence shocking through your spine as he follows your orders without question. All while your lips were still entwined.

You blindly reach down past where the hem of his shorts were, a sloppy frenzy of movement as you feel his cock free itself and spring up from the confines of his briefs.

A moan is caught in your larynx as your hand finds his thick shaft, locking eyes with him the second that skin touches skin.

“I— I bet you’ve been dreaming of this shit. Beatin’ the hell outta’ me, bossing me around—”

“—Oh please. I could do this in my sleep. I was always just worried about bruising that big, dumb ego of yours.”

You bite your lip, and Punk just sighs, his head hitting the throw pillow that you didn’t choose to launch at him while he stood against the wall.

“The biggest and dumbest. Yet you loved me more than anything. Isn’t that strange?”

Your eyes narrow at his smug expression. Despite being on the short end of the stick, he sure did have a mouth for the ages.

“But I’m not the one that came here all mopey, trying to put on a fuckin’ show because I missed incredible sex and the smell of vanilla perfume.”

“You didn’t deny that you love me.”

Your lip twitches at his smug expression. You’re almost tempted to rear that same hand back and slap him once more.

“Bite me.”

In a haze of rough, needy kisses and enough love bites to kill a man, you’d finally felt that your teasing quota was met. One final peck to the tip of his nose had Punk gasping for air, as you slithered your hand between your bodies and palmed his cock. You lift your hips, his pupils blown like he’d just seen the center of the universe.

“Missed seeing you on top of me—” Punk blurts out, looking shocked at the delicacy of his own words.

You flash him a wicked smile, not wasting any time in pushing your panties to the side and teasing his tip at your entrance.

“Bet you missed this pussy too, hm?”

Your condescension only adds to the fire raging in those evergreen eyes. Punk can only nod into submission as you lower yourself onto him, stretching out your walls around his cock and reinstating your title as the perfect fit.

Collective sighs fill the air, but there was still a small amount of unspoken tension that lingered above your heads like a storm cloud. There was only one way to release that tension— and it was the best way that you knew how.

Before you know it, the pace of your rocking hips picks up in speed, and the trembling breaths leaving Punk’s parted lips sounded like church bells ringing in your ears.

“Oh my God, fuck— Bunny—” he grunts, his hands grabbing tightly onto to your waist like clothespins as he guides you up and down his cock.

“Say my name. My— real name.”

Now that demand was something you knew he hated to do.

Although never showing any distaste for your real name, he had an aversion to using it. Only allowing himself to use it was of the utmost importance.

For himself, he preferred you just call him Punk, simply because ‘Phil’ just felt too mundane for his eclectic, brooding tastes.

The same went for you. The phenomenon of a ring name was something that got him more hot than bothered— and since you weren’t a wrestler, nor were you planning to be, he was left to his own devices to give you one. That was when ‘Bunny’ came about.

He may have chosen ‘Bunny’ for a multitude of reasons—it could have been for the fuzzy boots you wore on the winter night you’d met him outside of an indie show, or the way your nose crinkled up every time he said something that made you wince. For a while, you’d assumed that he’d forgotten your real name.

But you never really questioned his logic. Hell, you rarely questioned any of his idiosyncrasies at all.

If Bunny was what he liked to call you, then Bunny it was.

“Say my name, Phil. Fucking— say it.”

An impetuous moan breaks you out of your reminiscing, feeling that rage inside of you bubble back up into the desire to cause him more than just emotional pain. You take your hand and cup his jaw, fiercely pulling his spaced out eyes back into yours.

“Ah, fuck— fuckin’ Christ, you’re a lunatic.”

Your grip on his jaw grows tighter, watching him fight a smile with the ruminating thought of his masochistic ways in the back of your mind.

“You love this shit,” you pant, still rocking your hips with an utmost force that eventually brought the coffee table beside you to rattle, “Admit it. Tell me you love it and say my fucking name.”

An array of sloppy sounds fills the room once again, you can see, and feel, Punk’s shoddy attempts to fight back your ruthless aggression with his hips.

He slams into you upwards, a ping-pong of changing power dynamics, your entire body somehow feels like it weighs a ton.

“Kiss me. Bite me. Do it— do it ‘till it hurts.”

Suddenly, you’re crying out, loosening your hold on his jaw to run your nails down the front of his chest. He winces in pure, unbridled lust at the feeling of that brief sharp pain, and snaps his hips up even faster.

“Say my name first,” you barely squeeze out the words.

“Shit— Y/N— I fucking love you.”

Your wish was his command.

As you continue to bounce on his cock with enough force to drive you off the rails, you duck down, and slam your lips against his.

It was almost as if that final kiss was what he needed to send him to the brink of climax— his rhythm suddenly sloppy and his hands now crawling across your back to keep you pinned to his chest. You almost go weak in his arms when he bites at your neck, running his hand through the back of your hair and holding you closer— as if closer than you were right now was even humanly possible.

“Punk, oh my God— just like that, yeah. Right— right fuckin’ there—”

The rhythm of his hips was hitting every single mark— your walls tensing around his thick shaft with each snap of his hips and every glance into his needy eyes. He groaned for you, that poor, beaten up face of his looking as though you had him under a spell.

“Nobody fucks me like you do,” you breathe out, hoping your words were everything he needed and more to push him to the edge, “I love you. I still love you— so fucking much.”

A symphony of moans breaks you out of your bouts of praise, his hips snapping upwards with utmost force and bringing your entire body to tremble above him.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, Y/N!”

And suddenly, as if you were whipped through space and time, stars and fireworks fluttering towards the pit of your stomach— his cock twitches inside of you with an unspeakable amount of desperation and desire, reaching his climax in tandem with yours.

“Jesus Christ,” you sigh, sinking down to lay your cheek atop the fresh ink on his chest.

Punk lets out a low whistle, one that sounds familiar, and oddly comforting to you. It is reminiscent of a sigh of relief, as if having you wholly again was the one thing that kept his sarcastic quips and shitty ego afloat. All of that tension that lingered in the doorway of your apartment disappeared in an instant, his hands wrapping around you tightly as you attempted to level your breathing.

“You really know how to wear a man out, don’t ya?” Punk comments, tracing hearts and stars across your shoulder blades.

“I feed off souls, it's how I stay young.”

A simultaneous, hearty chuckle shakes both of your bodies. There was a feeling brewing around in your head that you couldn’t quite place your finger on. Maybe it was regret, but it was far too early to tell.

Especially with him still being inside of you.

“A succubus of sorts, hm?” says Punk, picking up your chin.

“Maybe. Maybe my mystifying, witchy-woman powers are what brought you here.”

“Or maybe I’m the one who can sense sadness. Don’t think I didn’t see those kicked-puppy-dog eyes when you opened the door...”

There it was again. The Punk you knew and loved. Defensive, yet somehow still able to make you swoon.

“...Gotta admit, there is a bit of magic between us.”

After laying in Punk’s arms for a long while after, that overwhelming sense of impending doom had dissolved completely.

You watched Punk scramble up and down the stairs of your lofted apartment to grab you everything you needed. A warmed washcloth and a glass of water; the two staples in your aftercare routine.

“Need anythin’ else?” You hear his disembodied voice from the kitchen above the running water.

“Actually, I do,” you comment, sitting up fully on the couch after he’d re-dressed you in your pajamas, “I need you to admit that coming here at midnight to bother me about a pair of gym shorts was a stupid fuckin’ plan.”

Punk freezes in his tracks, a sly smile sneaking onto his lips as he reaches over to dramatically turn the faucet off, “Guess I didn’t really think it through. I was more focused on seeing you. I needed an excuse to cover my own ass— the shorts were the best I could do.”

“Do better,” you snarl, “Still want ‘em back?”

Before replying, Punk slides beside you on the couch, his arm ready to cradle your head into the crook of his neck. He presses his lips against the side of your head, keeping there as his breathing slows.

“You can keep the shorts, Bunny. Just as long as you take me with ‘em.”

#cm punk smut #cm punk fanfic #cm punk x reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #cm punk angst #my debut post weeeeee

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justletmesmokeandsleep · 3 months ago

Text

Is this what you read about?

GHOSTFACE!RHEA RIPLEY X READER

Summary: rhea takes you to an abandoned library as a surprise date, with another little surprise in store

Warnings: rough sex, strap on, name calling (mami, baby, angel, darling, slut), slight spanking, mask kink, knife play

Let me know if I missed any!!

"Rhea, where the hell are we?" You say as you pull into a dark parking lot. About an hour ago rhea came up to your shared bedroom and stated she was taking you on a date. You got dressed in a cozy sweater and grey skirt with some patterned tights and loafers. You had been sitting in the passenger seat, reading your newest book, when you looked up.

"Just a little spot I caught wind of" Rhea states with her signature devilish smirk. She parks the car and you both get out. As your walking to the front of this building you catch glimpse of a sign that reads 'north orange branch library'. You remembered reading about this, the library was shut down a few months ago and had been completely abandoned since, though it still seemed to be in pretty good shape.

You reach the door right as rhea unlocks it, not bothering to question how she got the key as you walk inside. You walk through the lobby and as you're standing near the front desk you realize the whole place was practically untouched. Shelves and shelves of books, dvds, magazines, and even computers. As you're standing there you hear footsteps approaching behind you, instantly recognizing the sound of your girlfriends boots

The footsteps come to a stop directly behind you. You can feel her body heat from how close she is. Just as you're about to say something you hear her speak.

"Run."

She states simply. You're confused "what?" You question, nearly laughing. You're about to turn to look at her when you feel a cold steel blade against your throat. You gasp at the feeling on the metal against your skin

"I said run."

The raven haired woman removes the knife from your throat and without a second thought you run through the library. The mix of fear and arousal fueling your every bound. You rush part rows and rows of books, looking for a hiding spot. You finally spot a desk nestled nicely in a far corner of the library, you scoot the chair out enough to wedge yourself under the desk. Once you believe yourself to be well hidden you shed your sweater, leaving you in your undershirt, and start to try and listen, straining your ears attempting to hear the footsteps of your hunter.

And then you finally hear the heavy footsteps of combat boots on the thick carpet, and they're close by. Your breathing picks up and you slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the breathing. The footsteps, your trying desperately to hear them again, figure out where she could be. You finally hear something "gotcha." The familiar aussie accent echos through your ears as the chair in front of you is abruptly pulled away. You were found. You had choice to make and you had to make it fast, so before rhea could get you in her grasp you duck under the side of the desk and take off down another row of books.

You turn to see if the tall woman was following you and to your surprise when you glance back you're not met with the stunningly crystal blue eyes you're used to but instead the black ones of a ghostface mask. You gasp at the sight and stumble backwards, falling right onto the floor. Watching in an intoxiacating mix of shock, fear, and arousal as her masked figure stalked towards you. Still on the floor you start to crawl backwards until your back hits a bookshelf "nowhere to run now, pretty girl" you hear the tattooed figure announce as she places down her bag.

Your breathing quickens as the tall figure reaches you and squats to your level. She brings the sharp blade to your face, trailing the sharp tip of the knife from your ear to the corner of your lips. Not sharp enough to cut but sharp enough to feel the scratch. She then places the blade at your throat like before, you can't help but gasp and squirm slightly as cold steel contacts your skin. You hear a dark chuckle from rhea as she turns the knife, now using the side of the blade to tilt your head upwards to make eye contact with her. Or with the mask.

"Such a little slut for mami, aren't you?" You let out a slight whimper at her words, she trails the tip of the knife from your throat to your shoulder. Your eyes shut and you continue to breathe heavily as the cool blade glides against your skin. "I asked you a question and I suggest you answer, sweet girl" still trying to regulate your breathing, you don't register her words until you feel the sting of the blade leaving a small slash into your upper arm. You moan in a mix of pain and pleasure at the sensation. "I said answer me." She states sternly, you look up at her "Yes mami" you respond. Her body relaxed at your words, satisfied at the answer.

She leans back slightly, retracting the knife from you skin as she does so. She looks at you for a moment, deciding her next move. "Off" she states gesturing to the grey tank top you had been wearing. You take a second to register the words but quickly do as she says, not wanting another lick of the knife, kicking off your shoes in the process. She admires you for a bit longer before leaning back into, placing the knife back at your throat. She leans in more, slipping a hand behind you, at the base of your spine. You gasp slightly and arch your back into her, she let's out another dark chuckle. Her hand slowly travels up your spine to your bra clasp, snapping it open easily. You let the straps fall down your shoulders and arms before tossing it to the side with your shirt

She looks down, admiring you. "Such a pretty little angel" she says before moving the knife again. She trails the sharp tip down the center of your chest before turning it sideways and pressing the side of the blade against your nipple. You groan and arch into the cold sensation. She then continues trailing the knife around your body, she appears to be following the knife with her eyed but you couldn't tell with the mask. "Please" you half whimper, "Please what, baby? Gotta use your words angel" she responds without missing a beat. You take a breath before continuing your plead, "Please can I see you, mami?" She halts her movements. "You wanna see mami?" She asks as she stands and turns to walk away, you sit there confused until she continues, "you're gonna have to come earn it." She unbuttons and slides off her black jeans and hops onto a near by table, you sit there, dumbfounded and admiring her. "Come here, angel" she says, and pats the inside of her thigh. You finally get up, slightly shaking, and walk over to her. You're standing maybe a foot away from her face, awaiting your next command. "C'mon baby, on your knees"

You drop to your knees without hesitation, you look up at her and she moves her hand to the back of your head. "You know what to do, be a good girl." You move your eyes to her clothed core, placing a gentle kiss against the fabric, causing rhea to gasp slightly, before tugging her panties down her legs and discarding them with the rest of the clothes. "Fuck" you mumble under your breath, even in the dim light of the library you can see her wetness glistening. She applies a slight pressure to the back of your head and you waste no time following her silent command. You dip your tongue down to her entrance, sliding through her folds and up to her clit. You feel her grip your hair tighten as you repeat your movements, she tilts her head back. You can tell she's trying to keep herself together. You move your tongue up to slowly circle her clit, she let's out a drawn out groan. You continue your circles, slowly but surely increasing your pace. "Cmon baby you can go a little harder for mami" she states in a tone clearly telling you she put of breath. You smile slightly knowing that your the one making her lose her composure like this. As you continue your circles on her clit you push your tongue into her harder than before. "Oh fuck! Just like that angel!" She nearly screams as her thighs close around your head, but your movements never falter, determined to make her cum on your tongue. And with just a few more flicks of your tongue she releases with strained whine, clearly biting her lip under the mask.

You pull back and look up at her catching her breath. Having gained some confidence you ask "did I earn my reward mami?" She chuckles darkly before replying, "not quite, darling, now let's see how much of a good girl you can be." She then stands and lifts you on to the table as if you weighed nothing. You then watch as she walks over to where her bag was place, pulling out her favorite deep purple strap. You continue to admire her as she adjusts the harness around her hips. "Like what you see, pretty girl?" She chuckles. "Mhm" is all you can manage as she makes her way over to you. She makes it to you and flips you over on the table, having you now on your stomach. You gasp at the quickness of her actions and watch as her hand moves to grab the knife laying on the table. Next thing you know the blade is being dragged up the the back of you thighs. You can feel the way the nylon of you tights stretches to try and follow the blade as trails closer to your ass. She reaches the hem of your underwear and you feel a small prick along with hearing the sound of tearing fabric as she cuts through your tights and through the back of your underwear, leaving the perfect rip in the fabrics for her to fuck you.

Her hand moves to your hair, leaving soothing scratches, it's only then that your realize how quickly you had been breathing. She let's you catch your breath for a second before taking the tip of the strap and rubbing it up and down your newly exposed slit, you let a loud gasp at the touch and lean your head back into the hand still resting on your scalp. She repeated this movement until you where whimper under her, "Please...rhea" you breath out only to be answered with a sharp smack to your ass. "You know better, baby, try again" she states as she continues her movements. "Please mami" you correct "please fuck me".

You finally feel her slide the tip of the strap into you, "good girl" she moans out as if she were truly entering you. You gasp at the fullness and reach one hand out to grip the end of the table, the other is folded under your chin. Once she bottoms out she gives you bit to adjust before moving, but the moment she does you let out a moan of pure pleasure before pushing your face into your arm to silence yourself. Apon noticing this rhea grabs a handful of your hair, pulling your hair back as her quickly goes for slow and gentle to fast and rough, "If I wanted you to be quite I would have told you too, now don't hide your pretty noises from me, okay darling?" At this point her rough pace has your eyes rolled to the back of your head with your mouth dropped open in a silent scream but you manage to pull yourself together to whimper out a "Yes mami". She releases your hair from her grip but continues her rough treatment of your cunt, both hands gripping your hips as she thrusts in and out of you.

She’s so rough with you that tears start to brim in your eyes and soon enough your gasping for breath while moaning and screaming for her. Unable to focus on anything but her strap and the way it stretches and fills you with every thrust. “Mami” you moan out to her, “yes, what is it darling?” She asks, already knowing what your about to say. “I’m so close mami please can I cum for you?" You plead in a rather pathetic manner, but you’re too fucked out to care. She then rather abruptly pulls out of you, flipping you over onto your back, pulling the mask off and tossing it to the side. “I want to look into your eyes while you come for me, okay baby?” She wastes no time and thrusts the strap back into you, “okay mami” you manage to whine out between gasps me moans. The pleasure is to overwhelming to keep your eyes open and you allow them to slip closed, only to be met with rheas firm grip around your throat. “I said I wanted to look into your eyes, angel, now open them before I stop” not needing anymore warning other than that you snap your eyes open. You are instantly met with rheas beautiful crystal blue eyes, her face red and flushed from the heat of the mask, her hair that was neatly pulled back now has strands falling into her face. The look of her alone could’ve been enough to make you cum but that plus the feeling of her relentlessly pounding into you throws you violently over the edge. You cry out her name as you cum around her strap, still not breaking eye contact, no matter how much your eyes wanted to close.

You simply lay there a moment, catching your breath before rhea pulls some wet wipes from her bag to clean you up. Once you are both redressed you walk out of the library together and you sleep the whole drive home.

Thank you everyone for reading and I am once again so sorry for the wait, I hope it was a good read cause I’ve never really written something like this before ❤️

#mami rhea #rhea ripley #rhea ripley smut #fanfic #the judgment day wwe #rhea ripley x reader #demi bennett x reader #wwe x reader #wlw smut #ghostface #wwe smut

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eringobragh420 · 3 months ago

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➔ 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 — 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一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.

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #smut #cm punk x reader #cm punk smut #cm punk fanfic #cm punk fanfiction #cm punk #wwe fandom #wwe fic

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