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thealliasylum · 2 days ago

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Imagine fucking the OTC in front of your nigga. TWICE!😮‍💨🤪

🖤 Pairing — Roman Reigns x f!Reader x cuck!Cody Rhodes 🖤 Summary — Sequel to Animal In Me. Roman takes Cody’s girlfriend on a date. Cody is their chauffeur. 🖤 Word Count — 5.7k 🛑 Warnings — Handjob, oral (m receiving), semi-public, dirty talk, degradation, name-calling, hair-pulling, cuckolding, cum 18+ 🖤 Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 MASTERLIST

One of the many things you loved about Cody Rhodes was that he enjoyed a handjob just as much as he appreciated a blowjob. Smiling at this well-known fact, you leaned over, spitting on the head of his aching cock before spreading it down the shaft, continuing with your slow, purposeful strokes. Cody’s insistent hand on the back of your neck brought your lips to his in a searing, earth-shattering kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, as if you were the one getting manual stimulation, but you’d refused when he’d offered, telling him tonight was all about him, though you suspected he would disregard this and have his way with you—not that you’d complain or turn him down. But Cody was such a giver, always so concerned with your pleasure, and sometimes you just wanted to return the favor.

“I know you wanna do it again,” he suddenly mumbled against your swollen lips. Your eyes opened slowly, hand losing its momentum on Cody’s dick as you considered what he’d said. Suddenly the air around you was thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket over the both of you. “With Reigns,” he clarified, but of course you knew exactly what and who he was referring to.

“Cody … ” you whispered.

“I think about it all the time,” he sighed, his warm, recognizable hand closing around yours on his length, pumping just a little faster, and his thumb moved yours over the weeping head. He groaned when you took control, leaving his hand atop yours as it rose up and down, squeezing every now and again. “I can’t … do that to you, but …”

“You like watching someone else do it to me,” you finished for him, the flood gates in your cunt busting wide open, and you plastered sloppy kisses all over his cheek and neck, nibbling and licking at the red, white and blue tattoo. Your heart pounded from the confession, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it, too. Or touched yourself while thinking about it. And it wasn’t just Roman who occupied your mind. Your boyfriend watching you get railed by someone he truly disliked had done something to the chemicals in your brain.

Cody nodded, eyes closed. “Faster,” he breathed, and you’d never heard or seen anything more endearing than Cody Rhodes’ lisp. The corners of your mouth quirked into a smile as you did as requested, and once he removed his hand from yours, you switched your grip, and Cody crushed his wet lips to yours once more for a stalwart kiss that had you leaning forward, matching his energy, your mouths smacking together lewdly and with a practiced precision for several moments. “I can’t be tied up again,” he said, shaking his head, and you nodded, agreeing. “But I can’t—fuck—I can’t be able to get to you, though. The ways I imagined killing Reigns last time …”

“It’s fine,” you said. “We’ll figure something out.” Cody was moaning, head lulling back, and your hand squelched quickly up and down his shaft. “I love you so much, baby. I promise I’ll put on a good show for you.”

“Fuck!” Cody shouted, launching ropes of cum into the air, which inevitably landed on your hand, his cock and his thighs. Once he was able to think clearly, he looked at you. “This isn’t weird?” he asked.

You smiled, squeezing his chin with your clean hand, pressing your lips to his. “It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I loved you watching me get treated like a whore … and then looking down to see how fucking hard you were. And this might be bad, but I … I liked how angry it made you.”

Cody smirked, rolling his eyes. “That’s probably the least bad thing about all this.”

After making all the arrangements, never once feeling nervous, you were furious at the butterflies in your stomach as you got ready. You’d even done this before and your nerves were still frayed. You spun around in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting your dress this way and that to be sure there was no slack and it clung to your body everywhere it was supposed to. Your hair was in its signature style, as was your makeup and the jewelry adorning your ears, neck, and wrists, and you knew your boyfriend would forget his own name once he saw you, but you had to wonder about Roman.

The Tribal Chief was the last thing on your mind, however, when you turned the corner into the living room and nearly ran into Cody as he was attaching the golden chain to his vest. He’d chosen the maroon suit for tonight, the one with the long coat, and he was so fucking beautiful, your chest ached and your pussy wept. His big hands were on your shoulders, and you hated that it was so easy for him to see how anxious you were, but you adored him for taking the time to acknowledge it and make an effort to help you feel better. Instead of words, his lips touched yours, the muscles moving together with practiced ease, and as your hands slid up his chest, bound for the back of his neck, the doorbell rang.

“Don’t forget who you actually belong to,” Cody reminded you.

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him again. “We probably shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you said, caressing Cody’s cheek before heading for the door.

Roman’s suit was black on black, shoes shiny, hair pulled back in a sleek bun. He smiled as you invited him inside, leaning down to place a hot kiss to your cheek, and your skin burned from your neck to your cheekbones. The Tribal Chief’s aura was almost too much to bear, and thankfully Cody made himself known, slowly shaking Roman’s hand, and you imagined they were in a silent battle over who could squeeze the hardest.

“So are we good?” Roman asked, nonchalant to the point of aggravation. “Same plan we talked about?” You and Cody both nodded, Cody slipping an arm around your waist possessively. “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” Roman smiled. “I’m starvin’.” He patted his flat abs to emphasize his declaration before he turned and started toward the vehicle you and Cody had chosen for the evening: the sleek black Lexus.

Cody exhaled heavily through his nostrils as you and he stepped out of the house, you waiting with your boyfriend while he locked the door. “This may not be enough to stop me,” he remarked, hand sliding around your waist again, fingers playing at the swell of your ass.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Pull over if you have to,” you reminded him.

Roman had already folded himself into the backseat of the Lexus by the time Cody opened the front passenger door for you. You climbed inside and your senses were suddenly full of Roman Reigns’ scent, his hulking presence directly behind you, and your waxed pussy clenched.

“You look good, baby girl,” Roman growled. Your heart thrummed, breath hitched, eyes watching Cody round the front of the car, bound for the driver’s seat. “You ready for our date?”

You gulped. “Yes, Daddy,” you whispered just as Cody opened his door and settled behind the steering wheel.

The ride to the restaurant was suffocating. The handsome man beside you was desperately in love with you, so much so that he was allowing you to seek satisfaction from another man. The alpha male behind you had no feelings toward you either way—his only true intentions being to ruin you, use you, and send you back home to that boyfriend who loved you so dearly. And you couldn’t deny how much the entire situation just turned you the fuck on.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, Cody pulled up front and smoothly put the car in park. You turned to him, and he painted on a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He liked the part about watching you and Roman together, but he was less thrilled about the two of you going on a date without him. But it had been Roman’s stipulation, and he’d promised he had no ulterior motives—just a propensity for fooling around in public. And the thing about WWE superstars? They were incredibly popular, but were hardly, if ever (and for reasons unknown), followed by paparazzi.

Roman slapped Cody on the shoulder before exiting the backseat, slamming the door behind him. Cody’s crystal eyes winced, and you reached over to cradle his face.

“I love you,” you said, pressing your lips to his.

Cody sighed, warm air rushing across your face. “I love you, too. If you need me—”

“I know.” One final kiss, and you rubbed the residual lipstick off his mouth before you opened your door. Roman’s hand was suddenly there, and you glanced at Cody while slipping your hand into Roman’s and stepping out of the Lexus. Roman slammed the door with his free hand, slapping the hand that had been holding yours onto your ass cheek where it stayed as the two of you made your way inside. You fought the urge to again glimpse your boyfriend over your shoulder, the pang in your chest becoming more noticeable, an image of him eating alone down the street haunting your thoughts.

You and Roman were seated in a round booth in a fairly private corner of the dining room. Your soft, bare leg gently touched Roman’s meaty thigh as he eliminated the space between you. His aroma enveloped you, overwhelmed you, and you were suddenly slightly dizzy, overdosing on Roman Reigns before you even actually got started. But that’s the effect he had on you, on most people, you were sure. He threw off a lot of heat, and so you couldn’t be sure if you were blushing or just physically being lit on fire. You still didn’t know the answer as he laid an arm across the booth behind you, so smooth, so apathetic, as he ordered an expensive bottle of wine from the nervous waiter.

“So,” Roman broke the silence first, eyes surveying the other patrons of the restaurant, “did you follow the rules?” His inky eyes eventually landed on you, your thighs twitching, squeezing. “Made sure to wear panties?”

You swallowed what felt like sand. “Yes, Daddy,” you confirmed. You gasped, back straightening and bumping into the cushions behind you, as Roman reached over and casually lifted the bottom of your dress. You had one leg crossed over the other, so there wasn’t much to see, but just enough to prove you’d obeyed his instructions.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his full lips kissing you delicately on the temple. And so enchanted were you by Roman’s odd gentleness, you didn’t notice as he took hold of your hand, sliding it over his brawny thigh, settling it atop the lump between his legs. “Nice and slow,” he said, winking. “We got all night.”

You set to work massaging him, squeezing, rubbing, even pinching the fat head of his cock, which caused Roman to jump just the slightest bit in his seat. Fear swept through you, but the Tribal Chief merely grinned, shook his head, and took a sip from his glass of red wine. He quickly hardened under your touch, straining against the zipper of his expensive slacks, and pride swelled in your chest at how easy it was for you to bring Roman Reigns’ monster cock to life. Though you were quickly deflated at how indifferent he was about it. Aside from the tiny jump, and the fact that he was hard as fuck, he gave no other indication that he enjoyed your ministrations. No more smiles, hardly any glances in your direction, and he certainly wasn’t touching you despite his arm still lounging on the booth behind you. This is what you asked for, you supposed—Roman hadn’t signed up for the boyfriend package.

“Take it out,” Roman said. Biting your lip, and as stealthily as possible, you used both your hands to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. Once those were out of your way, you revealed the Tribal Chief’s impressive shaft, sighing as you wrapped your tiny-in-comparison hand around his length. The size, the weight, the warmth … your panties were soaked already. “Good,” he praised. “Now spit on it.”

Your heart sped up, but your mouth watered, making your task that much easier. After glancing around to be sure no one was paying either of you any mind, you bent over, and dropped a perfectly formed glob of saliva on the fleshy head of Roman’s cock. Your fingers smeared it around, sliding it down his cock, and it made your strokes much more enjoyable for him. You were even able to hear a faint moan emanate from his chest, and it was about this time your waiter decided to check in on you a short while after he’d served your entrees.

“I’m good,” Roman smoothly replied, and then you looked at you. “You good, babe?”

Your hand was frozen on his cock, but with the angle of your arm, it was clear your hand was in Roman’s lap. The waiter’s eyes dropped briefly to see if he could get a peek of whatever was going on, coming back to your face almost immediately when he realized he wasn’t able to see anything. “I—I’m good,” you stuttered. The waiter excused himself, glancing over his shoulder briefly before disappearing around the corner.

“Keep jerkin’ me,” Roman commanded, and you hadn’t realized you’d stopped at all. Before you could get a full stroke in, Roman leaned until his lips grazed your ear, growling, “You’re gon’ get a spankin’ for that. You don’t stop until Daddy tells you to stop.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whispered. With your free hand, you grabbed your own glass of wine and quickly swallowed three mouthfuls, never once pausing your manual stimulation. Neither of you had touched much of your expensive food.

“Now tell me why, if Rhodes loves you so much, he won’t give you what you want?”

You weren’t sure why he was asking, or why the answer was important, but your response was quick. “Because he’s a good guy.”

Roman looked at you. “Does that make me the bad guy?”

You flicked your thumb over the head, and Roman licked and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Aren’t you?” you breathed, brow arched.

Roman’s eyes narrowed briefly, and then he smirked, shrugged. “Why don’t you kiss Daddy’s cock?” Knowing better than to waste time by making sure no one was looking, you leaned over and touched your lips to the head of Roman’s cock, and you straight away tasted that familiar salty flavor of precum, of the Tribal Chief. You were licking the head and tonguing the slit as if you had permission to do so, as if you weren’t in public, and Roman had the honor of reminding you which of the two of you were actually in charge. He fisted your perfect hair, bringing his fingers as closely to your head as he could, so he was able to pull and cause pain without actually moving you and thus drawing attention, and he slowly lifted you back into your original position. Somehow, you managed to continue stroking him. “Did I say you could lick me?” he fumed. You shook your head, tears springing in your eyes from the stinging in your scalp. “That’s gon’ get you another spankin’.”

You nodded, slowly, barely. “Yes, Daddy.”

Roman also nodded, gazing down his nose at you, and it was like a downburst in the middle of the restaurant—all the tension, both sexual and nervous, the attraction you had for one another, the arousal, the spark—it all came crashing down onto your shoulders, sucking the breath from your lungs. You knew better than to touch him if you weren’t told to do so, so you settled for placing your free hand on your thigh, which was grinding into its twin without abandon. Roman’s sinful eyes descended just there, watching a moment as your fingers dug into your muscle to keep from reaching out for him.

“Why don’t you call your boyfriend?” he suggested, your eyes locked on his plump lips. “Think I’m ready to have his girlfriend.”

You struggled to extract your phone from your purse with just one hand—you heard Roman snort softly—but you were triumphant moments later, tapping your way to a phone call with Cody.

His tone was tight when he answered after only one ring. “Hey.”

Roman’s long fingers slipped under your chin, gently tugging until you looked at him, phone to your ear. His brows rose, head tilted down—a silent reminder.

Your hand still stroking his cock, eyes captivated by Roman’s wicked chocolate pools, you said to your boyfriend, “Daddy and I are ready to go.”

Roman waggled the fingers that had just been on your chin, and your heart skipped several beats as you slowly handed him your phone. “Get the lead out, Rhodes. Your girl’s got me hard as fuck.” Without waiting for a response, he disconnected the call, grinning like a fool as he returned it to your possession.

You and Roman weren’t waiting long outside the restaurant before the Lexus came speeding up, squealing to a fluid halt. The windows were tinted, making it impossible to gauge Cody’s mood early. Roman opened the back door, and you anxiously licked your lips as you crawled inside. Sliding to the middle of the seat, you caught Cody’s crystal eyes in the rear view mirror—two stone sapphires, revealing nothing of what was going on behind the scenes. It was difficult to not reach out and touch him, hug him, kiss him, but you hadn’t been given permission to do so, and you already had two spanks coming your way. Roman’s hulking frame followed you, closing the door behind him, and he was roughly the same distance from you now as he was in the restaurant, but in the enclosed space of the vehicle, you suddenly felt claustrophobic as his presence surrounded you.

“Alright, let’s get these off,” Roman said, pulling at the bottom of your dress. You lifted your hips, and his hands disappeared under your dress so he could slip your panties down your legs—you carefully maneuvered your heels out of the material so as not to rip it. He examined them, and it was almost like he was examining you, but the wild grin on his face made you feel better about his actions. Suddenly, he tossed the garment at Cody, the black lace hitting him delicately in the neck, and you heard Cody sigh heavily through his nostrils. “Just give those a smell, Nightmare.”

Your eyes rounded as you watched your boyfriend lift your panties from his shoulder, holding them up, and the wet spot you’d created was unmistakable, glistening in the gentle light of the car. You gasped, Cody bringing your panties to his nose, and his inhaling was the loudest thing you’d ever heard, but fuck it all if you weren’t simply becoming wetter and wetter.

“That’s just from jerkin’ me off,” Roman pointed out, “and the little kisses and licks on my cock.” He snatched your face, much rougher than he had just a few moments ago, and you focused your attention on the Samoan god. “That reminds me,” he growled, “you got two spanks comin’ your way, don’t you?”

A car honked from behind the Lexus, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The two men were calm, however, and Cody used the hand holding your panties to put the car in drive so he could pull out of the restaurant parking lot. As your boyfriend chauffeured you and Roman back to your house, the Tribal Chief ordered you on your knees and to once again pull his now semi-hard cock out of his pants.

“Now, your boyfriend can’t see you, so make sure he can hear you,” Roman advised, now with the freedom to shove your face into his crotch, your mouth opening just in time to accept his hot length, and the man was big enough to make you gag without even being completely hard. “That a girl, but I know you can do better.”

As Roman pulled your dress up, you impaled your throat on his cock, choking, coating the shaft in spit and drool, which allowed your hand to slide easily up and down, covering the area of his dick your mouth wasn’t able to reach. Roman’s coarse, capable hand barely grazed the soft, sensitive skin of your ass, and your heart drummed as you awaited your punishment. The smack came, hard, jarring your body, and you grunted around Roman’s cock, forcing it down your throat as far as you could as, what, a thank you? Penance?

“What do you say, slut?” Roman roared.

Your mouth popped wetly off his dick. “Thank you, Daddy,” you answered breathlessly, and he thrust his cock back in your mouth before you even got daddy all the way out. In and out, deeper with each pump of his hips, coughing, gagging, tears streaking your otherwise perfectly made up cheeks. The second spank came out of nowhere, jolting you once more, and you held his cock deep in your throat until you absolutely had to breathe. Pulling off, you sputtered, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Goddamn shame your own man can’t take care of you the way you deserve,” Roman said, holding your face close to his eyes, admiring the mess of your mouth and chin. “But don’t you worry your pretty, little head … Daddy’s gon’ take care of you. Fuck you like a real man. Fuck you like the slut inside you deserves.” You grinned up at him, suddenly lethargic, enraptured by Roman’s beauty, reveling in his undivided attention. “So turn around and sit on my cock. I want you to be able to look at your little boyfriend.”

The two of you worked together as he slid to the middle of the backseat, and you turned your back to him, your thighs on either side of his, grabbing hold of those sinewy muscles before sinking down slowly onto Roman’s fat cock.

“Fuck,” you mewled, head falling back, eyes fluttering, fingers squeezing closer to Roman’s knees. Two hot vices gripped your hips, squeezing into the tender flesh, and you were encouraged to lean forward until your elbows were propped on the armrest between the two front seats. Then you were told to bounce.

So willing and more than able to obey your Tribal Chief, you squeezed your thighs against his and did just as instructed—you bounced. Roman released your hips briefly so he could lower your dress and release your breasts, which were without the hindrance of a bra, and then he returned them to your already-bruised skin. So as you bounced, so did your tits. You felt Cody’s eyes burning into your every now and again, as he had to watch the road, but your gazes finally connected, and the explosion of his pupils were like two tiny volcanoes erupting, spewing ash all across the land. You knew that look, you knew those eyes, and you gasped, jaw dropped, pussy clenching around Roman’s thick dick as your hips continued rising and falling, your ass undulating every time your bodies came together.

“Tell him how bad you needed the Tribal Chief in your pussy,” Roman said.

Looking up at your boyfriend, who was now attempting to focus on the road, you panted, “I need the Tribal Chief in my pussy so fucking bad. I feel so fucking empty when he’s not inside me.” Cody reached down to adjust himself, and your attention fell to the incredible bulge threatening to stretch out Cody’s tailored pants, and you’d known he’d be turned on, but it was still a welcomed sight—validation.

“And tell him how much of a fucking slut you really are.”

You couldn’t help the diabolical grin that spread your lips, teeth slowly sinking into your bottom lip. “I’m such a slut, baby,” you told Cody, almost blissfully. “I can’t help it. I fucking love this shit.” The drool from the face-fuck earlier was sliding down your neck, making its way to the valley between your jiggling breasts. “I love fucking the Tribal Chief in front of you. I love when he fucks my face and spanks my ass. I love calling him Daddy.”

Roman guffawed, yanking your head back by your hair. “Listen to that mouth!” he hollered. “Never had a slut like this before. Riding me in front of your boyfriend? Slutty as fuck.”

“Fuck yes, my Tribal Chief,” you moaned. Cody squirmed in the driver’s seat, loosening his tie and the first few buttons of his shirt. “Such a fucking slut for you.”

“Turn the fuck around,” Roman suddenly demanded. “Put this cock back in that filthy mouth.” Eyes on Cody, you lifted your hips, slowly allowing Roman’s massive cock to fall out of your dripping cunt, and then you turned, knees on the seat as you bent over. He snatched your head and stabbed his drenched cock straight into your throat, wrestling that strangled choking sound from you that he seemed to love so much. You tasted a hint of his salty precum, but mostly you tasted your own luscious essence, which thickly coated Roman’s dick from root to tip, and as soon as you were able to quickly catch your breath, you went straight back down for more, stuffing his cock as far as it would go. Roman’s hand was on the back of your neck, lithe fingers curved around the column so he could feel the bulge in your throat with each pump of his steel cock. “Mmm, listen to that sound, Rhodes!” Roman exclaimed. “You like it when I choke your slutty little girlfriend with my cock? Hmm?” He abruptly yanked your head back, your scalp screaming, pussy throbbing, and he forced you to look at him. “Give your boyfriend a kiss,” he spoke quietly. “I want him to taste my cock in your mouth.”

As Cody changed lanes, you maneuvered your way back between the front seats. Cody’s cheeks were a dusty rose, his sapphire eyes bulging, and he had one hand controlling the Lexus, the other massaging his cock that appeared to be mere seconds from launching itself through his slacks and smacking against the steering wheel. This specific moment hadn’t been discussed beforehand or between you and Cody at all, so you weren’t quite sure which avenue to take. If you didn’t obey your Tribal Chief, you’d probably be in for another spanking, unless he thought of a more creative way to punish you. And if you did follow his instructions, how would Cody react? He liked watching and listening, that much was incredibly clear, but how involved did he want to be?

You settled for a compromise—you planted sloppy, sticky kisses to Cody’s cheek, the corner of his mouth the furthest you were willing to take it without the okay from your boyfriend. Cody’s tongue snaked out of his mouth, gathering the residue left behind, and his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Come here,” Roman ordered, “get back on this dick.”

He had you face him this time, straddling his hips, lowering yourself onto his still-rock hard cock. Gripping his shoulders, you set your hips in a moderate rhythm, feeling him nudge each and every corner of your cunt, tapping your cervix, and you cried out.

“So fucking wet,” Roman gushed, licking one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth, giving your other breast the same attention. “I’ll remember that for next time. That all I gotta do is take you to a fancy restaurant, give you a little taste of my cock, and I get to fuck you stupid in front of your boyfriend.” He grinned like a damn fool, brandishing his sparkling teeth, and all you could was keep grinding on him, panting into his mouth, too afraid to go in for a kiss. “And I could just roll this window down and show the whole city what a real whore looks like.” Whimpering, you dropped your perspiring forehead onto Roman’s, thankful he allowed you to remain there, however short-lived it was. “What do you say, slut? If Daddy wanted to roll the window down …”

You gulped, immediately thinking of Cody, but you knew better than to turn and check on him, and the way Roman was fucking you would have made it impossible for you to move anyway. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, hips rocking to meet his, drawing him deeper inside you. “I want the whole fucking city to see how much of a slut I am for you.”

Roman’s brows knitted together, and he sucked and licked and nibbled at your breasts. “Beg for Daddy’s cum,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Please, Daddy?” you gasped. “Your dick isn’t enough for my slutty pussy. I need your cum, too. I need your cum all the fucking time.” Roman touched his damp, fleshy lips to your ear, whispering, and you sighed as his scorching breath ghosted along your neck and shoulder. You licked your own lips before following his orders, glancing over your shoulder, and asking, “Can Daddy please come inside me? I need it more than anything.”

Cody inhaled through his nostrils, cobalt eyes lifting to the mirror. “Yes,” he rasped, “he can cum inside you.”

You turned back to Roman, fully prepared to ride him for all it was worth, reaping the benefits of his load inside you, but you were disappointed when he whispered more filthy things for you to repeat. “Baby,” you gained Cody’s attention again, “tell me you wanna fuck me with the Tribal Chief’s cum inside me.”

“Fuck you, Reigns,” Cody erupted.

Roman howled. “Come on, you know you want to,” he taunted Cody. “Imagine how fuckin’ messy her cunt’s gonna be when I’m done with it. Goddamn slip-and-slide.” You collapsed against Roman’s chest, head on his shoulder, his cock scratching that itch deep inside your pussy. “Don’t get me wrong,” he went on, “still tight as fuck.”

“God, I’m gonna cum,” you groaned.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Roman warned. “That little blonde boy doesn’t tell me how bad he wants to fuck you—”

“Baby, please,” you whined, near tears, squealing as Roman pinched and pulled at your nipples just because he fucking felt like it. “Please … I need to cum.”

“Come on, Nightmare,” Roman sing-songed, out of breath. “You really gon’ let your girl get fucked, and not let her cum?”

“Fuck, goddamn it, I want it,” Cody babbled. “I wanna see your fucking cum dripping out of her cunt before I shove my cock inside her.”

“Let me get that cum, baby girl,” Roman said to you, and your spine arched as you screamed, throwing your head back. Your pussy clenched around Roman’s cock, your entire body wracked with shudders. “Come on, you whore … milk this fuckin’ dick so the American Nightmare can get it up for you.”

Roman unloaded inside you just as Cody pulled the Lexus into the garage of your home. He thrust into you so many times afterward, you thought he was trying to get off again, but he was simply making sure he’d deposited every last drop of his cum inside you. Without warning, he lifted you slowly off his lap, your cunt pulsing as it mourned the loss of fullness, and laid you in the seat beside him. He grinned at you as he tucked himself away, adjusted and smoothed his suit, and opened the door, stepping out, where he came face-to-face with Cody. You watched, heart pounding, having no idea where this was headed, but you could feel the furious tension that was laced with arousal in the air. You gaped as Roman extended his hand, shit-eating grin on his face. Cody, massive bulge on full display as he doffed his jacket, shook Roman’s hand, and you could see their skin turn white from the amount of pressure being applied.

“Better get in there before my nut leaks out,” Roman advised, slapping Cody on the shoulder before strolling out of the garage, bound for his own vehicle parked on the street.

“Cody, baby, please,” you begged your boyfriend, who stared after Roman, fists clenched. “I need you.”

That seemed to break the Roman spell, and Cody looked at you. You jumped at the opportunity to slide your hand across your breasts, tweaking a nipple, as you scooted closer to the door. You spread your legs, Cody’s cerulean irises instantly drawn to what was probably an incredibly wrecked pussy. You felt Roman’s cum begin to seep from your used hole, and Cody suddenly reached out for your knees, holding them open, pushing them closer to your chest.

“My god, I’ve never seen anything so fucking sexy,” Cody admitted, leering at your entire body, but mostly your swollen, weeping pussy. He made swift work of his belt and pants, his long, slightly curved cock popping out. The head was red and seeping precum, and you licked your lips as your mouth watered, as it did every single time you looked at Cody’s dick. He adjusted your hips to the correct angle and height so that he could comfortably—for him, anyway—slip his cock deep within your cunt. He groaned, eyes closing briefly before opening again so he could watch as he leisurely pulled out, his cock coated in not only your cum, but also Roman’s cum.

“Oh, my fucking god …” you sobbed, your boyfriend squelching his way in and out of your flooded pussy. “Baby … I’m gonna cum again …”

“Do it, baby,” Cody encouraged, and your body contorted with the extra strength of this orgasm. “Because I’m about to …”

“Yes,” you mewled, body bouncing as Cody fucked you. “Please cum in my pussy. Please, please, please …”

“Fuck!” Cody cried out, hips slamming into you one final time before he paused, his muscular body, hidden behind slacks, a shirt, and a vest quivering much the same way yours had. After a moment, he chuckled, “You’re overflowing right now.”

You nodded dreamily, relaxing against the seat as Cody delicately pulled out, and you watched him as he watched all the thick cream he spoke of ooze out of your cunt. “I love you,” you said.

Cody smiled, shaking his head, still focused on the mess that was you. “I love you more,” he replied.

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #cody was there too #otc

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thealliasylum · 8 days ago

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FUCK A BLUNT, I NEED A FUCKING CIGARETTE

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Seven

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake’s masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine’s masterlist

Word Count: 8k

💥TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains DARK THEMES. Please proceed with caution💥

Three Years Ago

The Connecticut air is crisp and tinged with the faint scent of freshly trimmed hedges and distant flowers. This place, with its wide driveways and pristine sidewalks, radiates stability, security, and the promise of a new beginning.

Ivy steps out of the moving truck, stretching her arms above her head as her eyes sweep over the house before her. The stately two-story colonial, with its pale gray siding, crisp white shutters and perfectly manicured lawn, exudes the quiet elegance of suburban wealth. Nestled in a neighborhood of tree-lined streets and sprawling properties, her new home looks like something out of a postcard—a far cry from the cramped apartments and relentless hustle of Newark, New Jersey.

For the first time in a long while, she feels like she’s standing on the threshold of something good. It’s exactly why she chose this place. She needed a fresh start. A quiet space to raise her daughter away from the ghosts that haunted her in the city.

As Ivy leans against the truck, her gaze drifts to Zaia, who is bounding up the porch steps with the boundless energy only a three-year-old could have. Ivy smiles faintly, but the weight in her chest doesn’t quite lift. This move is supposed to be about letting go, but some memories cling too tightly.

Her mother’s funeral flashes through her mind. She can still feel the damp chill of the cemetery, the weight of the rain-soaked soil she helped shovel onto the casket and bury her last remaining parent figure. It was one of the hardest days of her life, standing there alone, clutching Zaia to her chest as the little girl asked if Grandma was in Heaven now. Ivy could barely reply, overwhelmed by tears and an aching sense of loss. Her mother was her anchor, her rock, even when life felt impossible. Now, with her gone, Ivy had no safety net, no one to turn to.

But that loss wasn’t the only thing pushing her to leave. Every corner of Newark reminded her of the betrayal she suffered. Of Angelo—the man she once thought she’d spend forever with. The man who cheated on her. His infidelity was a punch to the gut, and each time she saw his face, it was a reminder of how broken she felt. Zaia’s father, the man who was supposed to love her, shattered the trust she built, and Ivy couldn’t stand the thought of raising her daughter in the same city that held such painful memories.

Without her mother and without Angelo, Newark felt hollow, suffocating. It was as if the city itself had turned against her, and she couldn’t breathe here anymore. So, she made the decision to move—to start fresh in a place where the past wouldn’t be able to reach her, where she can rebuild with Zaia by her side. Hartford offered her that chance to build something new. A new job, a newer, better life for her baby and for herself.

Ivy straightens, pushing the memories down as best she can. She wipes her hands on her jeans and moves to grab the first box.

“Mama! Can I pick my room?” Zaia’s bright voice pulls her from her thoughts, and Ivy manages a real smile this time.

“Of course, baby. But let’s make sure the rooms are big enough for all your toys,” she says, teasing.

Zaia giggles, already racing into the house, her curls bouncing with each step. Ivy watches her go, and for a moment, the ache in her chest eases.

The first night is a whirlwind of unpacking boxes and chasing after Zaia, who insists on exploring every corner of their new home. The next morning, Ivy decides a grocery run is in order—her fridge is completely bare and living on only takeout meals won’t cut it.

By the time they reach the checkout line at the local store, Zaia is fully in hyperactive mode. She keeps trying to grab candy from the nearby display, giggling mischievously when Ivy places each item back.

“Zaia, put that down,” she scolds gently, glancing at the growing pile in the cart. She feels frazzled, her nerves frayed from the stress of moving and the unrelenting energy of her daughter.

“Looks like someone’s got their hands full,” a warm, lilting voice says behind her.

Ivy turns to see a curvy woman with deep golden skin and a radiant smile. She’s effortlessly stylish, wearing a flowing sundress and gold hoop earrings that sway as she tilts her head. The woman grins down at Zaia, who immediately abandons her rambunctiousness and retreats shyly behind Ivy’s legs.

“Hi there,” the woman coos at Zaia, crouching slightly. “You’ve got good taste in candy, I see.”

Ivy laughs, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. “She got too much taste, trust me. Sorry, we kinda a mess today.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I’ve been there.” The woman extends her hand to Ivy, her smile widening. “I’m Gemini. Welcome to the neighborhood.” Her smile is bright, her tone warm and welcoming.

Ivy pauses, slightly taken aback. “How do you know that?”

Gemini giggles playfully, resting a hand on her hip. “Oh, I’ve got my ways. For one, I’m on the neighborhood watch, so I make it my business to know who’s coming and going. And, fun fact—one of the lawyers at my firm handled the paperwork for your house. When I saw the listing close, I figured I’d run into the new face eventually. Congratulations, by the way!”

Ivy’s lips part in surprise before curving into a tentative smile. “Thanks. And wow, you’re…thorough.”

Gemini laughs softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s the attorney in me. But it’s not as creepy as it sounds, I swear. We’re just a close-knit community, and I like to make sure newcomers feel welcome. Besides,” she adds with a light shrug, “your place is just a ten-minute drive from mine. So if you ever need anything—or even just someone to share a bottle of wine—I’m your girl.”

Reaching into the candy display, Gemini picks out a lollipop and hands it to Zaia. The little girl tugs at her mother’s hand, her big brown eyes fixed on the piece of candy. “Can I, Mama? Pwease?”

“Sure, baby. What do you say to the nice lady?” Ivy prompts.

“Thank you!” Zaia chirps, grabbing the treat.

Gemini chuckles. “She’s adorable. And you’re gonna love it here, Ivy. I can tell we’re gonna be friends.”

Ivy smiles, feeling a warmth she hadn’t expected. She’d been worried about starting over in a new place, but Gemini’s easy kindness makes her feel like she’s already found an anchor.

“Yeah,” Ivy says softly, glancing at Zaia, who is now happily unwrapping her lollipop. “I think we will.”

The cold concrete floor bit into Ivy’s skin as she shifted uncomfortably, her body stiffening from being tied up for so many hours. Every muscle ached, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish clawing at her chest. Her thoughts were consumed by Zaia. The thought of her sweet baby girl returning home from her friend’s house to find her own house empty, scared and alone, with no one to tell her where her mother was, brought tears to her eyes.

Those tears quickly spilled down her cheeks, hot and relentless, soaking into the coarse cloth gag Roman had forced over her mouth. She wanted to scream, to wail, to beg for someone—anyone—to help her, but the basement walls swallowed every sound. Roman had thought of everything. The thick, soundproof barriers cocooned her in suffocating silence, cutting her off from the world above.

She strained her ears, desperate for even the faintest noise—Roman’s footsteps, the creak of the basement door—but all she heard was an oppressive, deafening quiet. The stillness made her despair heavier, pressing down on her chest until she felt she might suffocate from it alone. She was utterly and completely alone.

But even the crushing silence wasn’t enough to drown out the image burned into her mind. Gemini’s lifeless body, her face barely recognizable, beaten so savagely that Ivy had to look twice to confirm it was her. It was a sight that would haunt her forever.

It wasn’t the first dead body Ivy had seen. Of course not. In her line of work, she’d dealt with death more times than she cared to remember. But this… This was Gemini. Her best friend. The one person who had always made her feel safe. And now, because of her, she was gone.

Gemini was probably coming to warn her. With all those documents and printouts, to show her proof. Gemini was the best lawyer this side of Hartford. Now all that promise and potential, snuffed out because of Ivy.

Because she hadn’t listened.

She was the reason Gemini was dead.

Ivy thought she was smart. She was a nurse. Years and years of studying medicine. She was a boss in her place of work, respected and admired. She’d always believed she could read people, that her instincts were sharp. So how she had let Roman bamboozle her for as long as he did, was beyond her. It didn’t sit right with her. It was as if he’d cast a spell, weaving his charm around her so tightly she hadn’t noticed the suffocating noose until it was too late. Now, every smile, every touch, every sweet word felt like a lie dipped in poison. She’d let her guard down, and it was about to cost her everything.

Angelo. Gemini. Maybe Zaia.

All of a sudden, the door flew open, and Ivy flinched. Roman descended the stairs, carrying a tray with food and water. He moved with an unnerving calm, as if he were tending to a guest rather than his prisoner. He crouched in front of her, his handsome face softened with what almost seemed like concern.

“You have to eat,” he murmured, setting the tray down.

Ivy glared at him, her defiance blazing through the tears in her eyes. Roman’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing at her reaction, but he held his temper in check. Slowly, he reached for the cloth gag, his movements deliberate and calculated.

“This basement may be soundproof,” he said, his tone cold and edged with menace, “but if you so much as think about screaming, you won’t like the outcome.” His tone was quiet, almost calm, but the hand that brushed the hilt of the knife strapped to his side spoke volumes. It was a silent, chilling warning—a promise of what he was capable of.

“Do you understand me?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers, daring her to test him.

Ivy’s eyes widened at his threat, and she nodded quickly, her fear eclipsing her defiance. Roman studied her for a moment longer, then reached down and untied the cloth gag from her mouth. The cool air hit her damp, chapped lips, and she inhaled deeply, grateful for the freedom, however temporary it was.

Without a word, he moved behind her, loosening the bonds on her wrists. Her hands trembled as the blood flow returned, sharp tingles shooting up her arms. Roman grabbed the tray of food and pushed it towards her with deliberate care.

“Your favorite,” he said, his voice soft but unsettling, as if he was doing her a favor. “Garlic butter steak bites and mashed potatoes. I remember you saying it was your comfort meal.”

Her stomach growled in protest, but her appetite was dulled by fear and the knot of despair tightening in her chest. Reluctantly, she picked at the food, the familiar, mouthwatering smells of the southern dishes only deepening her sense of loss.

She hesitated, her voice small as she broke the heavy silence. “What...about Duchess?” she asked, daring to look up at him. Her insides churned with dread. "Is she..."

Roman’s face darkened slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “She’s fine,” he confirmed after a moment, his tone sharp with finality. “I took care of her injuries. She’s upstairs in a cage, sedated and muzzled.”

Ivy’s chest tightened, and she fought the tears that welled up again. Duchess was more than a dog; she was her family. “Please…don’t hurt her again,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Roman’s dark gaze bore into her, unblinking. “That depends on you, Ivy.”

Her mind raced, the next words leaving her throat before she could stop them. “Roman, please,” she begged, her voice cracking, “You have to let me go. Zaia—my baby needs me. She needs me and Duchess. She’s just a little girl! She doesn’t have anyone now—her daddy is gone, Gemini’s gone. She needs her mommy!”

Roman tilted his head, watching her intently. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “I can bring her down here,” he offered, as though he were suggesting a reasonable solution. “I can go get her—”

“No!” Ivy screamed, her voice raw, pained. “Don’t you dare go near her! I swear, Roman, if you touch her—” She broke down again, and her chest heaved with the effort to hold back a full-blown breakdown. “I would rather die than let you near her!”

Roman’s expression darkened, and for a moment, Ivy thought she’d gone too far. His jaw clenched, and his gaze burned into her with an intensity that made her feel like prey. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. “You’d rather die?” he echoed, his voice dangerously soft. “You think that’s what Zaia wants? To lose her mother too? Or would she rather have you safe here, with me?”

Ivy shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Safe?! This isn’t safe,” she choked out. “This is hell. You’re a monster!”

Roman sighed, shaking his head as though disappointed. “You still don’t understand,” he said, almost tenderly. “But you will.”

“You’re sick, Roman. You need help.”

Roman gazed at her, his expression sincere. “I only need you, baby girl. You make me want to be better, Ivy. Better than I ever was in my last life. I’ll never hurt you or Zaia. I love you.”

The mere sound of her baby’s name on his tongue made her physically ill. “You’re insane,” she spat, her tears streaming.

“No, I’m in love,” he corrected, his voice firm yet tender. “And I know you love me too.”

Ivy forced herself to stay still, stay calm, but inside, panic clawed at her chest. She didn’t see love in his eyes. She saw obsession. And she knew she had to find a way out before it was too late.

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady. “You think killing people proves you love me?”

Roman tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. “I told you. I didn’t do it for them, Ivy. I did it for us. Everything I’ve done is so we can be together, so no one can come between us.”

Ivy’s chest tightened as she stared at the man looming over her, his shadow stretching across the dim basement walls like a predator poised to strike. Her hands, bound and trembling, fidgeted against the ropes as she tried to keep her voice steady.

She drew in a shaky breath, her mind scrambling for any way to stall him, to appeal to whatever humanity he had left. “If you love me,” she began softly, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation, “you’ll let me go back to Zaia. Please, Roman. I’m all she has left. She needs me.”

For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something flicker in his dark eyes—hesitation, maybe even a trace of guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a look so cold it sent a shiver down her spine.

Roman leaned in closer, his face unreadable, his words sharp and deliberate. “But I need you more.”

Ivy froze, her breath caught in her throat. His voice was calm, almost tender, but his expression was anything but. The chilling conviction in his gaze told her everything she needed to know; there would be no reasoning with him.

“You might be all she has left,” he continued, his lips twisting into a sinister smile, “but you’re mine, Ivy. You belong to me now, just like you promised.”

His words hung over her like a death sentence, a noose, strangling any hope she’d clung to. Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse roaring in her ears. Roman didn’t just see her as someone to love—he saw her as something to own.

Instinctively, she backed up, her heel scraping against the edge of the trapdoor. Her stomach lurched at the thought of falling into the pit where Gemini’s broken, lifeless body had lain before Roman had dragged it out and literally folded her into that barrel.

Roman caught her tensed movement and frowned. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’ll protect you from everything. From everyone.”

“Even from you?” she shot back, her voice rising despite her fear.

His jaw tightened, and again, she was sure she’d crossed the line. But then he exhaled, stepping away as he ran a hand through his long, raven-black hair.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I thought you’d understand. You’re different, baby girl. You see the real me.”

Her stomach dropped as she realized he wasn’t just delusional—he was utterly convinced of his twisted logic.

“Do I?” she questioned, “I thought I did, thought I saw the real you. But I don’t. I don’t, Roman, because you weren’t honest with me. I won’t understand you if you don’t tell me the truth,” she said, her voice trembling. “Everyone has a story. So…so talk to me, Roman. Tell me yours. How did you get here? How did it start?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, the tension in the room shifted.

“You really want to know?” he asked cautiously.

His dark eyes pinned her in place, a predator watching his prey. She nodded, swallowing her revulsion. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” she asked softly, keeping her voice even. It was a dangerous game, but she needed to buy time, to unravel something—anything—that might help her. “The real you.”

Roman paused. His lips quirked upward in a bitter smile. “The real me?” he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“That name...Mateo Hobbs? Is that your real name?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

Ivy nodded cautiously, her heart hammering. “Okay. How did you end up here? Like this?”

He leaned back on his heels, dragging a hand through his long hair. His voice dropped, a low rumble that made the basement feel even smaller. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to be like this. Life made me this way.”

She treaded lightly, sensing his tension. “What happened?”

Roman let out a bitter laugh, the sound dry and hollow, filled with the weight of memories he could never escape. His jaw clenched as he spoke, each word dripping with cold disdain. “My father? He wasn’t a man who loved. He was a man who demanded. Loyalty, obedience, power—those were the gods he worshipped. Oh, and money too. And he had billions of it in at least ten different currencies. He didn’t care about my mother though, at least not in the way husbands are supposed to. She was just another piece of his empire, another symbol of control. And when she slipped out of that control, when she took lovers behind his back, he made sure everyone paid the price.”

He paused, his eyes distant, as if he were staring at a scene only he could see. “There were two of them—her lovers. He found them both. He always found what he was looking for. And when he did, he had them dragged into the basement of our house. I was fifteen. He didn’t hide it from me; he wanted me to learn. He wanted me to understand what happens to people who betray the family.”

Roman’s voice turned colder, his words sharper, as if cutting through the air. “He oversaw everything. No detail was too small, no punishment too extreme. They screamed, begged, pleaded for mercy, but my father didn’t flinch. He just watched, stone-faced, as they were torn apart in front of him, piece by piece. And my mother?” He let out another hollow laugh. “She didn’t flinch either. She sat there in her chair, perfectly still, watching her fuck toys die like it was some kind of TV show. She didn't give a fuck about either of them.”

How Ivy kept the bile down her system should have been commended.

Roman scoffed as he continued his spiel, his face twisted in disgust. “Her reaction taught me what women are capable of. Manipulation. Lies. Disrespect.” His tone darkened, the bitterness palpable. “She taught me that love isn't real. It’s nothing but a game, and everyone cheats in the end.”

Ivy shifted, her breath coming in shallow gasps as her mind raced. “And…your wife?” Her voice faltered, but she pushed on. “Was anything you told me about her true? Did she even exist?” The images flashed before her eyes—the photographs Roman had shown her months ago, displayed proudly in the foyer upstairs. He’d spoken of her with such reverence, his words painting a picture of love and devotion. But now, as she replayed those moments in her mind, something shifted. The woman in those photos—she looked strikingly similar to Ivy herself. A slow, creeping realization coiled in her chest, her body tensing with the unshakable feeling that she had been manipulated, trapped in a lie that had been spun so intricately she hadn’t even seen it until now.

Roman’s eyes darkened as he shifted his weight, leaning against the wall. His posture was deceptively calm, but the tension in his clenched fists and sharp jaw betrayed the storm brewing beneath the surface.

“She existed, yes,” he began, his voice low and measured, as though he were recounting a story from another lifetime. “But not in the way I told you. Elesha…she was the one who made me think it could all be different. That I didn’t have to see the world through the lens of betrayal and lies anymore.”

Ivy didn’t dare interrupt. She could see his jaw twitching, his mind running through memories too heavy to contain.

“When she came into my life, I'd become a cleaner,” he asked, though he didn’t wait for her response. “My father’s empire…his messes didn’t handle themselves. That was my contribution to the family. Did it for years and years and I was damn good at it. Made me millions and millions. Elesha made me think I could leave all that behind. That I could live a normal life. Have a family. That I could love and be loved, no matter what I’d done in the past.”

Ivy’s stomach churned. She could almost picture him, a younger, still handsome man with literal blood on his hands, trying to carve out something decent for himself. Something better.

It obviously didn't work.

“I walked away from everything for her,” Roman continued, his voice hardening. “The power, the connections—gone. Because I wanted to be enough for her. And for a while, I thought I was.”

He laughed bitterly, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance. “I stopped killing. I fought those urges for her. But it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough. She cheated on me, Ivy. With my own blood. Tama wasn’t just my cousin—he was part of the life I left behind. The life I sacrificed for her.” His voice broke off, the rage simmering beneath his words enough to send a chill down Ivy’s spine.

Roman’s lips twisted into a bitter sneer, his voice rising with each word, raw and laced with venom. “And you know the worst fucking part?” He turned his piercing gaze on Ivy, his eyes burning with fury, pinning her in place as if daring her to look away. “That bitch got pregnant. Not by me—by him! She knew I always wanted a family, and she did that to me! She had the nerve to look me in the eye and tell me she was leaving me to be with him. That I was the problem. That I was too erratic, too unstable. Can you believe that shit? After everything I fucking sacrificed for her!”

Ivy’s chest tightened, her breathing shallow as she tried to process his words. It was clear now that his story about his wife dying of liver disease was just that. A story. Her voice came out barely above a whisper as she asked, “What...what did you do?”

Roman’s eyes darkened, a glint of something unrecognizable flickering in their depths. Slowly, a cruel smile played on his lips, cold and devoid of any trace of humanity. He leaned in slightly, the room seeming to close in around them.

“I took care of them,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word dripping with sinister finality.

Ivy’s breath hitched, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. She wanted to ask more, to press for details, but the way he stared at her, daring her to dig deeper, silenced her. Whatever he had done, the truth hung heavy between them, too horrifying to speak aloud.

She was startled when he crouched down in front of her again, his voice softening, almost tender. “When I first saw you, I was afraid you'd be like her. But you’re nothing like her, Ivy. You’re different.”

Ivy tensed. “Different?”

His eyes flickered with something almost vulnerable. “I watched you for days before we met. Watched the way you care for Zaia. The way you dealt with everything life threw at you, even Angelo. That punk bitch didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you.”

Ivy’s heart raced as he continued, his voice dripping with conviction.

“I knew you and Zaia would be the perfect family. I could see it—how happy we’d be together. But Angelo? He was in the way. He was stressing you out, disrespecting you, holding you back. And I couldn’t let that happen anymore. I needed to protect you. Protect us.”

A sick realization dawned on her, her voice trembling as she forced herself to ask. “So…what? You followed him to that bar and took out his brakes? Is that what you did?”

Roman smiled, his expression serene yet chilling. “Mm-hmm. Genius, wasn't it? And now, baby, we’re one step closer to the life we’re supposed to have. Just the three of us—me, you, and Zaia. A real family.”

Terror coursed through her, a cold, unrelenting wave that threatened to drag her under, but she kept her expression neutral, her breaths shallow and measured. She prayed Roman couldn’t see the panic flashing behind her eyes like a beacon. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go—not yet. Roman’s obsession was far darker, far more consuming, than she had ever imagined. He wasn’t just dangerous. He was unstoppable.

Her voice trembled despite her efforts. “And G…Gemini?”

Roman’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a smirk that made her stomach churn. “Gemini wasn’t supposed to die,” he said, his tone almost apologetic, though his words were anything but. “But she kept poking around, asking too many damn questions about Angelo… about me. She thought she was smarter than me, Ivy.” He stepped closer, his shadow looming over her like a predator sizing up its prey. “I had to put surveillance on her so I could keep an eye on her. She was gonna go to the cops. I couldn’t let her ruin us.”

He tilted his head, studying her like she was a fragile, breakable thing. “She didn’t care about you, baby. Not the way I do.”

Ivy’s heart thudded painfully against her ribs as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m glad she’s dead. It was fun stomping her face in. You should’ve seen it, Ivy. She didn’t stand a chance.” He grinned, his straight white teeth flashing in the dim light. “And you…” His hand reached out, his fingers grazing her cheek. “You’re free now. Free of her bitching and meddling.”

She flinched at his touch, her skin crawling as if his fingertips were laced with cyanide. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she forced herself to meet his gaze, masking the disgust that roiled inside her.

“You think you freed me,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear. “But all you’ve done is make me a prisoner.”

His hand fell, his handsome features darkening as a shadow passed over his face. “Baby, don’t say that,” he murmured, the words more a command than a plea.

“I’m not your baby!” she screamed, her voice trembling as fear and rage bled through. Her hands shook at her sides, but she refused to back down. “You’re sick, Roman! This isn’t love. It’s control. Obsession! You need help—real help!”

Roman’s expression twisted, his face a battlefield of emotions. The muscles in his jaw tensed, his lips curling into a snarl. But there was something else behind the rage—hurt, maybe, or disbelief. “You’re wrong,” he said, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the suffocating silence. “I love you, Ivy. I loved you the moment I saw you.”

Her heart raced, each beat pounding in her ears as she fought to keep her composure. She had to think fast, to say anything that might keep him from spiraling further. “If you really love me,” she said, her tone softening into a desperate plea, “then prove it. Let me go, Roman. Please.”

He froze for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing as if her words were some impossible riddle. Then he shot to his feet and began to pace, his hands clawing through his hair as incoherent mutters escaped his lips. His movements were erratic, unpredictable, and every step made Ivy’s pulse quicken. Her eyes darted toward the door. She didn't see him lock it. Could she make it? Could she outrun him?

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered at last, his voice trembling with something that might have been pain. He stopped pacing, turning to her, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something crack in his armor. His shoulders sagged, his expression almost human. Almost.

“You won't lose me,” she said, keeping her voice steady even as her legs threatened to give out beneath her. “Let me go, and we can figure this out together. I won’t tell anyone—about any of this. I swear, Roman. You said I make you want to be better. Let me help you.”

For a breathless second, Ivy thought she had reached him. His eyes softened, his posture slackening as if her words had begun to chip away at whatever dark force consumed him.

But then, just as quickly, his features hardened again, his face a cold mask of fury and distrust.

“You’re lying,” he said, his tone flat, devoid of any emotion.

Before she could react, he lunged at her. His hand closed around her arm with crushing force, yanking her toward him. She gasped, her eyes falling on the barely eaten plate of food where a steel spoon lay. It wasn’t a weapon, but it was something—anything.

She felt his grip falter for a split second as he reached for the ropes on the floor. Ivy seized the moment. Her hand shot out, grabbing the spoon, and with a feral cry, she jabbed it into his face. The dull edge scraped across his cheek, drawing blood.

Roman roared in pain, staggering back as his hands flew to his face. Ivy didn’t wait. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she bolted past him, her bare feet slapping against the cold floor. She dashed out the door and stumbled her way up to the top of the stairs, towards one more door that surely led to her freedom. Her breaths were panicked bursts, her fingers, slick with sweat and trembling with desperation, as they fumbled with the doorknob. Relief flooded her when the knob turned.

But before she could open it, an arm locked around her waist. Roman yanked her back with such force that the air was knocked from her lungs. He spun her around, his face inches from hers, twisted into a horrifying mask of blood and fury.

“You think you can leave me?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing. “You think you can run from me?”

His eyes burned with something primal, something unhinged. He carried her back down the stairs like a man possessed, her screams echoing uselessly off the walls. Ivy clawed at his arms, kicked at his legs, but it was like fighting against solid stone. It was then she understood what Gemini had suffered, the terror and pain she had endured in her final moments.

“Roman, please!” Ivy sobbed, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “I’ll do whatever you want—just don’t hurt me!”

He didn’t respond, his silence more terrifying than words. Reaching the center of the room, he dropped her roughly onto the cold floor. She landed awkwardly, her knees scraping against the concrete. He loomed over her, his chest heaving as his shadow swallowed her whole. The tension in the dimly lit basement had reached a breaking point, the walls seeming to close in around Ivy as she faced the man who had turned her life into a living nightmare.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” he bellowed, his voice shaking the room. She flinched, curling into herself as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I’m sorry, Roman—I was scared! Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

His expression darkened, anger melting into something far more sinister. His eyes softened, but there was no warmth in them—only the eerie calm of a predator circling its prey. Slowly, he crouched down, his looming presence suffocating. His hand reached out, brushing her tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that felt all the more terrifying.

“But you did,” he said, his voice soft now, dripping with false tenderness. “I told you, Ivy, I would never hurt you…unless you make me.”

His fingers trailed down her face, lingering too long, brushing over her trembling shoulder before creeping lower. Ivy’s stomach plummeted, dread clawing at her throat as his hand closed over her breast. Her body went rigid, her mind screaming in complete horror.

“Roman, don’t—” she pleaded, on the verge of more tears, but he silenced her with a disarming smile, one that made her skin crawl.

“You asked me to prove my love to you,” he whispered, his tone intimate, almost conspiratorial. “I should’ve killed you the second you tried to run, but I didn’t. That’s how much I love you, Ivy.”

The words sent ice flooding through her veins. Panic surged, an overwhelming tide of terror that left her breathless as the full realization of what was about to happen slammed into her like a freight train.

“Please,” she tried again. “Roman, you don’t have to do this—please don’t do this.”

Her words were met with silence. Instead, he pressed his lips against hers. The blood on his face smeared against her cheek, a twisted mockery of intimacy. Her hands pushed at his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. It always was. His much larger body bore down on hers, smothering her attempts to fight back.

“No!” she cried, and again, she tried…to push him away, to twist out from under him, but he was too strong, his much bigger body crushing hers as he forced her down onto the cold, unforgiving floor.

“Roman, no! Please!” she pleaded, her voice breaking, but he didn’t stop. He pinned her arms above her head, his weight suffocating, immobilizing her completely.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice a guttural snarl. “You belong to me, Ivy. Forever. You promised me. You promised me!”

He managed to pull down her leggings, forcibly yanking them down her legs. Her panties followed next. By the time he pushed his pants low enough to set himself free, Ivy was in tears of hysteria.

“Roman, stop! Stop it!” she begged desperately. She thrashed beneath him, tears streaming down her face. “Roman, stop! Please stop!” she begged, her voice breaking from sheer terror.

But he cut her off with another brutal, tasteless kiss, his lips crushing hers with a force that made her feel more trapped than ever. When he pulled back, his eyes burned with a dangerous mix of rage and control, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear.

“Baby, I need you to relax,” he commanded, his voice deadly calm, each word slicing into her like a blade. “I can’t be with you like this. Stop fighting me and relax. Now.”

Her body shook violently, every instinct screaming at her to keep fighting, to resist. But the cold realization hit her like a freight train—no matter how he tried to convince her, he would kill her if she didn’t obey, just like he killed Gemini and Angelo. The thought left her breathless, her terror paralyzing.

Slowly, painfully, she forced herself to go still. Her muscles ached from the tension, her hands trembling as she surrendered to the inevitable. A sob escaped her lips, and she clenched her teeth to keep the rest from spilling out.

“There we go,” Roman cooed, his tone unnervingly tender, as though this twisted moment was some sort of victory for him. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against her tear-streaked cheeks, the press of his mouth disturbingly soft. He kissed her tears, one by one, as though offering some grotesque semblance of comfort. Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing, trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

The tears couldn't stop falling as he pushed himself inside her, his movements relentless and unyielding. Her anguished sobs pierced the oppressive silence of the basement, mingling with the horrifying sounds of his pleasure and her desecration.

Detective Cody Rhodes was hunched over his desk, the desk lamp casting harsh shadows over the files and photos scattered before him. The walls of his office were a collage of red strings and pinned notes, a chaotic shrine to the case that had consumed him for over a year.

Mateo Hobbs.

The name was etched into his thoughts with a branding iron, a relentless drumbeat that followed him everywhere. No leads, no sightings. Just a trail of devastation that had gone cold far too many times.

With his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, he perused the thick manila folder marked Mateo Hobbs—Fugitive. The case had grown cold since Hobbs escaped his custody and vanished into thin air, but Rhodes wasn’t letting it go. He couldn’t. Not after all the effort he had put so far into searching for him. Not after the atrocities the man had committed. Mateo Hobbs’s actions spoke louder than anything Rhodes could ignore.

Cody flipped the pages, his sharp blue eyes scanning the psychological evaluations and criminal reports as though doing so for the first time. The man was a ghost who left nothing behind but devastation—a trail of dead lovers, shattered families, and unanswered questions.

The first file was Elesha Hobbs. Mateo’s pregnant wife. Cody’s sharp jawline clenched as he reread the details of her death. Thirty stab wounds in total. Sixteen to the abdomen. Overkill. Her boyfriend got it worse—the other victim, Tama Tonga. Mateo’s own cousin and the alleged father of Elesha's unborn baby. Stabbed multiple times in his groin area. Castrated. A double murder as personal as it was brutal. The rage in the killings was palpable, a bloodthirsty man out for revenge.

There was another case, this time from fifteen years ago, in the heart of Atlanta—one that had long been buried under the weight of time and flawed conclusions. Antonia Arnold, a bright and ambitious student at Georgia Tech, had been Mateo’s college girlfriend. Her death was ruled a suicide back then, a tragic story of a young woman found hanging from the ceiling of her dorm room. But new evidence, unearthed after years of silence, told a far more sinister tale.

The bruising around her neck did not match the marks left by the rope that had supposedly ended her life. The pattern of those bruises revealed something far more violent—a struggle, a pair of hands that had pressed down hard enough to steal her final breath.

The case unraveled further when a close friend of Antonia’s came forward with damning testimony. Just days before her death, Antonia and Mateo had an argument loud enough for half the dormitory to hear. The source of their fight was scandalous: Mateo had found Antonia's profile on an escort service website, all while having an affair with their married psychology professor, Dr. Lashley.

To his chagrin, Dr. Lashley himself became a key witness in the reopened investigation. Pleading for anonymity he never got, he spoke of Mateo’s volatile nature, describing him as “unpredictable, like a bomb waiting to go off.” The professor admitted he feared Mateo’s temper but never imagined he would cross such a line.

Yet it was that very temper, that unrelenting fury, that betrayed him. In his rage, Mateo had left behind subtle, incriminating traces at the scene—fingerprints smudged on the underside of a chair used to stage the hanging, tiny fibers of his clothing clinging to Antonia’s body, and, most damning of all, scratches on his forearms that matched the pattern of her nails.

Antonia Arnold hadn’t taken her own life. She had fought like hell for it, in those final moments against the man she once trusted. And now, after years of silence, the truth was clawing its way into the light, casting a new, unforgiving shadow over Mateo’s past.

Of course, Mateo had not stuck around for more questioning, disappearing from campus without a trace as the authorities began to close in on him.

It wasn’t just the murders; it was the man’s past that fascinated—and terrified—Rhodes. Mateo Hobbs grew up in the weighty shadow of the Samoan Sons, a powerful, California-based crime family led by his father and uncle. From an early age, Mateo was groomed as an assassin, tasked with erasing the messes his father’s empire left behind. By all accounts, he was brutally efficient, ruthless, but eventually, his psychological issues forced him out of the family. He was the perfect predator until he became...too perfect, leaving more bodies in his wake in the most extreme and brutal of fashions.

The psychiatric evaluation Mateo underwent before being ousted from the mafia was another vital piece of information. Cody had read it a thousand times and the words didn’t get less chilling:

“Subject exhibits clear signs of borderline personality disorder. Emotional instability and an intense fear of betrayal dominate his psyche, often resulting in extreme acts of violence. He forms deeply dependent relationships but is prone to lashing out if he perceives disloyalty.”

There was more. Antisocial personality traits, an ability to compartmentalize guilt, and a narcissistic streak that allowed Mateo to justify his actions as necessary for his own survival or vengeance. The report was damning but also revealing. Cody could almost hear Mateo’s voice through the words in the document, justifying every brutal act as if he were a victim of circumstance, as if loyalty and love were owed to him at all costs.

Loyalty and love that were never afforded him growing up.

Cody flipped to the final assessment. Psychopathy. Mateo had learned how to mimic charm, how to love and manipulate in equal measure. But underneath it all, there was no remorse, no capacity for empathy—just a cold, calculating need to maintain control, no matter who he hurt.

The file on his exit from the mafia revealed a man who had become too unstable even for a criminal empire. Paranoia. Compulsive lies. Delusions of grandeur. Violent outbursts. Mateo’s father and uncle had tried to cover it all up, but the Samoan Sons couldn’t afford to keep a ticking time bomb in their ranks. Thus, Mateo was cast out, and that rejection seemed to be the final crack in his already fractured psyche.

Mateo Hobbs wasn’t just a killer. He was a product of his environment—a powder keg built by betrayal, violence, and psychological disorder.

It didn't get any more dangerous than that.

Cody leaned back in his chair, staring at the mugshot clipped to the folder. Mateo’s dark eyes stared back at him, calm and piercing, the kind of gaze that sent a chill down Cody’s spine. He wasn’t just hunting a murderer. He was hunting a man who had become a monster long before he ever took a life.

The door to his office burst open, and Lieutenant Jade Cargill strode in, her energy electric and urgent. Jade was the kind of leader who commanded attention the moment she stepped into a room—tall, muscled, physically and mentally, and always immaculately put together. She had been with Cody in the trenches on the Hobbs case from the beginning, though her involvement had slowed as she juggled overseeing the precinct and tackling other high-profile cases. Still, Cody knew she never stopped keeping tabs on it, even if she had to step back. Right now, it was clear she had something big.

“Rhodes,” Jade said, her voice sharp, her dark eyes gleaming with something Cody hadn’t seen in months: hope. “I think we’ve got something.”

Cody’s head snapped up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. He leaned back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue. “Don’t tease me, Cargill. What’chu got?”

She slammed a folder onto his desk, the faint scent of coffee and cigarettes trailing her as she pulled a chair over. “Remember my old academy buddy, Phil Brooks? He’s a P.I. now, residing in Fairfield, Connecticut. He called me last night about two cold cases from a couple of months ago—one body found in Fairfield, the other in a nearby county called Middlesex. Both women. Both murdered in ways that sound a hell of a lot like our guy. Stalked, isolated, methodical.”

Cody sat up straighter, his pulse quickening. “Details?”

Jade opened the folder, pulling out grainy crime scene photos. “Fairfield victim: strangled, dumped in an alley. Middlesex victim: same M.O., but this one was left in her own apartment. No sign of forced entry—he knew her well enough to get in clean. Sound familiar?”

“It always does,” Cody muttered, his jaw tightening.

“But wait, there’s more.”

Shit. “What else?”

Jade flipped to another page, her voice dropping to a more serious tone. “There’s this girl. Rhea. Found in some neighborhood in Hartford. Her throat slit and dumped in a ditch. She was pregnant.”

Cody’s eyes widened. “Fuck.”

Jade flipped another page and pointed at the picture of Bianca Belair. “This one’s been missing for two weeks. Same neighborhood. Brooks sent me a report of a neighbor who swears they saw Bianca arguing with a man matching Hobbs’ description the night she disappeared. Both Rhea and Bianca were escorts.”

Cody’s blood ran cold. “You think Hobbs is up there?”

“I know he’s up there,” Jade said, her voice filled with conviction. “Brooks also sent me this.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a crisp photo ID. It was a Connecticut driver’s license.

Cody froze as he saw the name: Roman Reigns. But the photo…it was unmistakable.

Holy shit.

“It’s him,” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat. “It’s Hobbs.”

Jade nodded, her excitement tempered by the gravity of what they’d just discovered. “We finally have a lead, Rhodes. A real, tangible lead. It’s the first time in over a year we’ve been this close. If we can get over there on time and find him, we might have a shot at finding this Bianca girl and stopping him.”

Cody’s mind raced, connecting dots and mapping out the next steps. He looked up at Cargill, his eyes filled with determination. “We gotta go now then. If he’s already killed this many, he’s not gonna stop. He’s in the middle of a fucking spree.”

Jade gave him a tight nod. “I’ll reach out to Brooks, see if he can get this case in the hands of Hartford PD,” she said. “Pack your bags, Detective. We’re heading to Connecticut.”

As he stood, Cody Rhodes felt the first spark of hope he’d had in over a year. They had a name. A new name, but a name regardless. They had a location. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, they had a chance to finally catch Mateo Hobbs before he disappeared again.

Whew.

Fun fact: Elesha is Marian (harmshake)’s middle name and Antonia is my middle name 🤣 We said, ain't no way we’re not putting ourselves in this somehow, we worked too hard on this story.

Your comments and reblogs are so much appreciated! Please keep your Asks coming, we’re loving all the theories!

Please remember that this is FICTION and nothing more. Thank you so much for understanding!

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