empressdede - Tumblr blog

empressdede · 2 days ago

Text

Tangled In The Ashes - III

Part Three

Roman sat back on the worn leather couch in Jimmy’s garage, a half-empty bottle of Casamigos in one hand and his phone face down on the table. His jaw clenched as Jey and Jimmy argued across the room like two loud-ass sitcom brothers.

“She texted you again?” Jimmy asked, eyebrows raised as he passed Roman a fresh blunt. “How many now?”

Roman shrugged and took a hit. “Three… maybe four.”

Jey whistled. “And you ain’t answer none of ‘em?”

Roman shook his head.

Jimmy leaned forward. “You tryna win a trophy or be a grown-ass man? Talk to her.”

“She let that man punk my kid,” Roman snapped, sitting up straighter. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to her right now.”

“Punk your kid?” Jey echoed. “Bro, he took the Switch. Ain’t like he put hands on him.”

“Yet.” Roman gritted his teeth. “You think it starts with a slap? Nah. It starts with access. Then control. Then next thing I know, some dude’s coaching my son on how to be a man while I’m just the side parent who comes around on weekends.”

Jimmy sat back, rubbing his beard. “You sound like a man who still love her.”

Roman didn’t respond.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Jimmy pressed.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jimmy said. “All this energy? The fact you pulled up at 11PM using a key from two years ago? That ain’t just father-of-the-year energy. That’s my-woman-done-pissed-me-off energy.”

Roman took another sip from the bottle. “She’s the mother of my child. I got a right.”

“And now she’s the woman you ghostin’,” Jey added. “You fallin’ back all quiet like you didn’t storm in that house ready to square up.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “She should’ve stopped him. That’s the part y’all keep ignoring. She let another man step in on my son. That ain’t love. That’s disrespect.”

“So what now?” Jimmy asked. “You gonna keep ignoring her forever?”

Roman didn’t answer right away. He rubbed his temples, frustrated.

He wasn’t trying to be petty.

But something about seeing Melo cry like that… it lit something in him. Something primal. He could still hear his son’s voice.

“Tyler took my game, Daddy.”

Roman hadn’t even thought. He’d just moved. Like instinct.

And the way Amaya looked at him that night?

Yeah… he saw it.

That look.

The one that said I forgot how good it feels when you protect us like that.

And he hated how bad he wanted to see that look again.

But she’d made her bed.

Since she was trying to play house with someone else.

Let her.

“You ask me?” Jey said, cutting into his thoughts. “You need to go remind yourself who the fuck you are. Lay up with somebody else. Let Amaya feel it for once.”

Roman raised a brow. “You serious?”

“Dead,” Jey said. “She ain’t the only one who can be laid up with somebody. You single, bro. Play your role.”

Jimmy threw a hand up. “Or—and hear me out—maybe don’t act like a high schooler with a bruised ego.”

Roman shook his head. “Y’all giving me whiplash.”

Jimmy shrugged. “Look. Do what you want. But if you still love her, bro? Don’t play games. Don’t pretend you don’t care when you do. That’s how you lose the whole thing. The woman, the family, all of it.”

Roman stared at the table.

His fingers tapped against the glass bottle.

“I don’t know what I want right now,” he admitted.

“Bullshit,” Jey said.

Roman shot him a look.

Jey held up his hands. “I’m just saying. If you really didn’t want her, you wouldn’t have pulled up like that. You damn sure wouldn’t be sitting here looking like you lost your best friend.”

Roman stayed quiet.

Jimmy spoke again, softer this time. “Maybe you just mad cause you ain’t in control no more.”

Roman let that sink in. He hated how true it sounded.

But the twins knew their cousin, knew he wouldn’t pour out his feelings out in the open. At least not sober, so Jey lit another blunt, eyes squinting against the smoke as he leaned back on the couch the three of them sat on.

“You thinking ‘bout callin’ her?” Jimmy asked, nudging Roman with the edge of his boot.

Roman didn’t answer right away. Just sipped from the bottle and stared out at the tv like he was waiting for something to happen.

Then Jey chuckled suddenly. “Man, forget all that soft shit. Remember how we jumped ol’ boy?”

Roman finally cracked a smile, low and cold. “How could I forget?”

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head. “Yo, that was wild. I ain’t even think we was really gon’ do it.”

“Cap,” Roman said, voice dry. “You just didn’t think I was serious.”

Jey smirked. “I knew you were serious the second we pulled up and you turned that music off.”

“Tyler thought it was gonna be a convo,” Roman muttered, shaking his head. “A little man-to-man chat.”

“Boy was wearing slides,” Jimmy added, laughing. “Didn’t even lace up. Had no idea we was about to jump him old school.”

Roman’s jaw clenched slightly at the memory, but the smile stayed. “He touched my son’s stuff. Disrespected me in my bloodline. That’s all I needed.”

Jey leaned forward, grin wide. “Bro, the way you walked up to him and said, ‘You still got that same energy?’ I almost lost it.”

“And his face?” Jimmy added, eyes wide. “He froze. Looked at all three of us like he was in the final level of a video game he didn’t know he entered.”

“He got scared real quick.”

Roman’s voice lowered. “He should’ve.”

They all went quiet for a moment, each reliving it in their own heads.

The three of them had walked up without raising their voices. No yelling. No posturing. Just presence. Three solid walls of muscle and blood ready to make a point.

Roman had spoken first.

Calm.

Measured.

“You think you can put your hands on my kid’s stuff? Act like you the man in that house?”

Tyler stammered something about intentions.

Roman didn’t let him finish.

First hit came fast.

To the gut.

Then Jey caught him with a hook to the side of the face. Jimmy swept his legs.

It wasn’t a full-on beatdown—more like a lesson. Painful, but pointed.

Roman made sure he didn’t bleed.

But he wouldn’t forget.

“He won’t ever look at a Switch the same,” Jey said now, chuckling.

“Damn sure won’t talk slick again,” Jimmy added.

Roman’s smile faded just slightly.

“I didn’t do that just for me,” he muttered. “I did it ‘cause I needed him to know. Melo ain’t to be touched. Not by nobody that don’t share his blood. Period.”

Jimmy nodded. “And if she don’t get that… then maybe she never will.”

Roman leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the bottle hanging loosely in his grip.

“She used to know, though.”

Silence settled between the three men again.

“She still loves you,” Jey said finally. “You ain’t gotta be a genius to see that.”

“Then why she let that dude get comfortable?” Roman muttered. “Why let him think he could step in?”

Jimmy tossed his empty cup into the grass. “Same reason you ain’t stepped up yet, bro. She’s tired of waiting.”

Roman didn’t respond.

But in his chest?

The fire was reigniting.

And this time?

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it back.

It started with a whisper.

Then a stare.

Then a full-blown sideways comment at the grocery store.

“Tell your baby daddy he got hands,” a voice muttered as Amaya reached for a pack of strawberries. She blinked, heart skipping. She turned instinctively, but the woman who said it was already halfway down the aisle, smirking like she’d just dropped a bomb and was proud of the fallout it would cause.

Amaya stood frozen, her hand hovering over the fruit. The cold from the produce shelf clung to her fingertips, but the rest of her felt flushed—suddenly too hot beneath the buzz of the fluorescent lights.

Hands?

What the hell did that mean?

She tried to brush it off. Told herself she misheard. Maybe the woman wasn’t even talking to her.

But that night, the rumors came crashing in like a tidal wave.

This time, from her cousin Darnell over FaceTime.

“Yo,” he said casually, licking barbecue sauce off his thumb, “you still talkin’ to that Tyler dude?”

“I guess,” she replied, curled up on her couch in an oversized hoodie. “Why?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Might wanna check on him. Heard he got ran down by some Samoan muscleheads.”

She sat up, heart slamming against her chest. “What?!”

“Man, Roman and his people put hands on that dude outside the gas station. Over what, I don’t know. But bruh got snuck. Ain’t even throw one punch back.”

Amaya stared into the screen, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Roman?” she whispered.

“That’s what I heard,” Darnell said. “You know I got ears everywhere. Somebody said it was Roman, his cousin with the red braids, and the one with the grill. All three of ‘em walked up calm like they was just there to talk—and then boom. Tyler caught that work. Didn’t even get a punch off.”

Amaya’s stomach turned. The room felt like it tilted under her. She ended the call early, her ears ringing, her thoughts spiraling so loud it was like her own brain betrayed her.

Roman jumped Tyler?

Over Melo?

Over her?

She didn’t know what to feel.

Because somewhere between fury and fear…

There was something else.

Her emotions were everywhere. Anger flared first—what the hell was Roman thinking?

This wasn’t how grown adults handled co-parenting. This wasn’t how you protect your child. This was control. Pride. Ego on full display.

But then…

Beneath all of that…

There was a sick, twisted pull in her chest.

That deep, low ache that Roman always managed to awaken in her—no matter how far she tried to run from it.

She hated herself for feeling it.

A part of her she hated—hated—felt protected.

Not just protected. Claimed.

And that… that pissed her off even more.

Because Tyler didn’t deserve that. He might’ve been awkward. He might’ve overstepped. But he tried. He respected her. He showed up.

She tried texting him.

Amaya: You really jumped Tyler?

Delivered.

Read.

No reply.

No surprise there.

Roman had been ignoring her since that night—like she was the one who crossed him.

And maybe she did.

Or maybe they both had.

Amaya buried her face in her hands.

How had it come to this?

Roman hadn’t texted.

Hadn’t explained.

Hadn’t offered so much as a damn “you good?”

And here she was—still thinking about him.

Still wondering what part of that fight was about Melo… and what part was about her.

And the worst part?

She already knew the answer.

It was both.

And that’s what scared her the most.

Because she wasn’t sure how to live in a world where Roman was both the man that has sides of him she needed to protect her child from… and the one her heart still wasn’t ready to close the door on.

________________________

Two days later, Roman pulled up in front of her house like it was just another Tuesday.

No warning. No heads-up. No apology.

Just him, in his usual black tee and sweats, gold chain resting on his chest, hoodie down, hair freshly washed the way it fell over his face.

His truck door shut softly, and he made his way to the front steps like nothing had happened at all.

Amaya stood in the doorway, arms folded, heart slamming against her ribs.

“You really thought you could just show up?” she said, before he even knocked.

Roman looked her up and down, calm as ever. “Ain’t no need to stand outside. I’m here for Melo.”

“You’re here for Melo,” she echoed, voice rising. “You sure you’re not here to finish what you started with Tyler?”

He didn’t blink. “He around?”

She nearly slammed the door in his face.

“No,” she snapped. “He hasn’t been around. He hasn’t even called.”

Roman stepped forward until he was under the awning, towering above her.

“Then why you mad at me?”

“You jumped him, Roman.”

“He had it coming.”

“That’s not the point.”

He gave her a long, unreadable look. “Then what is?”

Amaya shoved the door open fully and stormed back inside, knowing he’d follow. And of course—he did.

Because Roman never waited for permission.

He walked in like he still lived there.

“Three grown-ass men, Roman?” she threw over her shoulder. “Really?”

“I didn’t say I needed help. They came ‘cause they wanted to.”

“So it was a group decision to stomp out the man I was seeing? What, y’all take votes now?”

Roman didn’t respond.

He didn’t need to.

The silence said enough.

Amaya turned to face him, voice cracking now. “Do you even care how that makes me look? What people are saying about me? About Melo?”

Roman’s gaze darkened. “What I care about is my son. And some random-ass man thinking he can step in like I’m not here.”

“He wasn’t trying to replace you.”

“He didn’t have to,” Roman said, stepping closer. “He took my son’s game. Told him what to do. Disrespected my title without saying a word.”

Amaya’s voice softened, just a bit. “And your response was to beat his ass?”

Roman’s eyes locked with hers.

“Yeah.”

No hesitation.

And somehow… that made her angrier.

But also… something else stirred in her chest.

And she hated that, too.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she whispered. “You can’t keep playing like it’s always going to be you, Roman.”

“I’m not playing anything,” he said, voice low. “We both know what it is Maya, you the only one playing pretend.”

Her breath hitched.

He didn’t flinch.

Roman stepped closer again, crowding her space, eyes fixed on her lips now.

“You think I ain’t see the way you looked at me that night? You liked it. The fire. The chaos. That’s why you keep inviting peace in and pushing it away. Because peace don’t know how to grab you like I do.”

Amaya took a shaky breath.

“You’re toxic.”

“I’m real,” he corrected. “And I’m tired of acting like I’m not the only one who ever had your heart.”

Silence.

Thick and heavy.

Unforgiving.

And then—

“Daddy?”

They both turned.

Melo stood at the top of the stairs, sleep still in his eyes, curls wild.

Roman stepped back from Amaya instantly, like the moment had never happened.

“Hey, bud,” he said, smile softening. “You ready?”

Melo nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“Can we get pancakes?”

“Anything you want.”

Roman looked at Amaya one last time.

Something unspoken passed between them.

And just like that, he took his son’s hand and left.

The kitchen was warm with the smell of coffee, the low hum of the dishwasher running in the background. Morning light poured through the windows, bathing everything in soft gold.

Amaya stood at the counter, stirring her coffee slowly. Her mind was elsewhere—still stuck on Roman’s visit. On the way he moved through her house like he still belonged. On the look in his eyes when he said:

“I’m tired of acting like I’m not the only one who ever had your heart.”

She hated how true it felt.

Footsteps approached behind her. Mariah. Fresh from her morning jog, still dressed in workout clothes, sweat slicking the edge of her hairline.

“You good?” she asked, reaching into the fridge for a water bottle.

Amaya nodded vaguely.

“Because this morning was… a lot.”

Amaya’s jaw clenched. She didn’t want to go there. Not yet.

But of course, Mariah went there.

“You know, at some point you’re gonna have to actually put your foot down with him.”

Amaya didn’t turn around. “What do you mean?”

Mariah cracked the water open and took a sip. “Roman. You keep letting him come and go as he pleases. He storms in, picks fights, gives orders—and you let it slide. Then you wonder why your peace never lasts.”

Amaya turned then, slowly.

“I’m not letting him do anything. He’s Melo’s father.”

Mariah shrugged. “So? Doesn’t mean he gets a pass to disrespect your house, your boundaries, your man.”

“I don’t have a man.”

“Because your baby daddy ran him off,” Mariah snapped.

Amaya’s grip on her mug tightened. “It wasn’t that simple.”

Mariah crossed her arms. “You know I love Roman—in theory. But you’ve been bending over backwards trying to keep things ‘cordial’ when he’s out here moving like a damn husband who pays the mortgage.”

Amaya let out a bitter laugh. “That’s rich, coming from someone who doesn’t have to share a kid with anyone.”

Mariah narrowed her eyes. “So now I can’t give advice ‘cause I don’t have a child?”

“No, you just can’t give this advice,” Amaya shot back. “Because you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like having a kid who worships the ground his father walks on.”

Mariah stepped closer, voice quieter but sharp. “And you don’t know what it’s like watching your sister shrink herself every time that man walks into a room.”

“I’m not shrinking.”

“You’re folding. And I hate it.”

Amaya’s eyes burned. “You think I like this? You think I enjoy the way he makes everything so complicated? The way he makes it hard to breathe without feeling like I owe him something?”

“Then stop letting him win,” Mariah said. “Stop letting him treat this like his second home. Start setting some actual f*cking boundaries, Amaya.”

“I have—”

“No, you haven’t. Not when he’s showing up unannounced. Not when he’s putting hands on the man you were seeing. Not when your son thinks it’s normal for his father to be half God, half ghost.”

Amaya slammed the mug on the counter, coffee sloshing over the side.

“Melo can’t wait three days before he’s asking about his dad!”

Her voice cracked like thunder in the quiet kitchen.

Mariah froze.

"Every other day it’s ‘Where’s daddy, mommy? Can daddy come? I wanna play with daddy. Mommy, can we get this for daddy.’ I can’t fuckin’ escape that shit!"

Amaya kept going, eyes glassy now, voice rising with each word.

“Now you want me to what? Close the door on Roman? Tell Melo he couldn’t see his dad because you want me to have some sort of pride?!”

Mariah stepped back, caught off guard.

Amaya pointed at her chest. “Get over yourself, Mariah.”

Silence.

Heavy and sharp.

Mariah blinked, mouth slightly open. “That’s not what I—”

“Yes, it is what you’re saying,” Amaya snapped. “You’re asking me to pick pride over parenthood. You think I don’t want to scream every time he pulls this possessive bullshit? You think I don’t want to block his number, slam the door in his face, start fresh?”

“Then do it.”

“I can’t!” Amaya yelled, eyes now fully brimming with tears. “Because he’s the only damn constant Melo has. Because no matter what Roman and I go through, my son still crawls into bed at night asking when he’s coming back.”

Mariah’s shoulders dropped.

Amaya’s voice softened, cracked. “And what do I do with that, huh? Pretend it doesn’t break me every time?”

Mariah was quiet now.

Real quiet.

Amaya stepped back, arms crossed over her chest, trying to get herself under control.

“I’m not saying I want to keep letting Roman in,” she whispered. “I’m saying I have to. Because Melo needs his father. Because I can’t bear the thought of my baby growing up thinking his mom kept his dad away over an argument.”

Mariah nodded slowly, finally understanding the core of it.

It wasn’t about pride.

It wasn’t about boundaries.

It was about Melo.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Okay.”

Amaya wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry for snapping.”

Mariah crossed the room and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry for pushing,” she whispered. “I just hate seeing you hurt.”

Amaya nodded against her shoulder. “I know.”

They stood there like that for a moment, sisters again—equal parts tired and tethered to the same love.

When they pulled apart, Mariah offered a small smile.

“I still think Roman needs a throat punch.”

Amaya actually laughed. “You and half the city.”

“Still…” Mariah tapped her shoulder. “Don’t forget—your peace matters too. Melo needs his dad… but you need your sanity.”

Amaya sighed. “Yeah. I just don’t know how to have both.”

“Well,” Mariah said, grabbing her keys, “maybe it starts with you deciding what kind of love you’re willing to tolerate—and what kind of love your son deserves to see.”

Amaya didn’t have an answer.

But she knew she’d be thinking about that all day.

🫣 guess we know why Tyler never called back huh?

😭😭 not only is Roman toxic, he a damn menace to society 🤣 he the real person you have to proceed with caution with! 🤣

Somebody tell Amaya to STAND UPPP

VIP TAGLIST : @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00 @isabella-2025 @jstarr86 @chrisevanswife0405 @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @whowrotethenote @potatosackk @ajaxcleaningsupplies @sayyestoheav3nn @chasssssworld @christinabae @glittergirl7 @itskii01 @fame-ass-ers @li-da-savage @ashykneee @kianaleani @holisticcoach @pittieprincess22 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandairene88 @luvrsluxe @venusesworld @norababora @callmekayd @chrissyxcxox @keyera-jackson @wabi-sabi1090 @psiloveyOu @baybehkay @nybearsworld @transparentphantomface @sassginaswanmills @fafomama @wooahmiri @theusotwinzcom @westcoast-babygirl @prettygixlnica @blackchickinthedesert @abandonedkooee @mackfinstathrowitback @potatosackk

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #roman reigns #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #Tangled in the ashes

116 notes · View notes

empressdede · 3 days ago

Text

Updating 3 Stories Today. Gotta clear out these mf drafts 😂😂

Stay tuned for the updates.

#empressdede #empresswriting #roman reigns #solo sikoa #jimmy uso #Jey uso #smokestack twins

13 notes · View notes

empressdede · 10 days ago

Text

Honestly? Lots of men in uniform have this sort of power trip where they feel like they can talk to anybody, any kind of way, but I love to see when people say enough is enough!

The community has a right to look after each other, and I for one can totally agree on if nobody else is going to hold them accountable, we should. For our people, for our community!

I just wish this didn’t come with the hardship of, Even if we’re peaceful, they’ll take your life and maybe get away with it. It shouldn’t be that way.

Shout out to him!

#empressdede

3 notes · View notes

empressdede · 11 days ago

Text

Tangled In The Ashes - II

Part Two

For the first time in weeks, Roman had actually kept his distance.

He hadn’t pulled up.

Hadn’t sent late-night texts.

Hadn’t tried to remind Amaya what she was missing with slick messages or thirst traps featuring him and Melo at the park.

He was quiet.

Too quiet.

And Amaya was starting to think maybe he had finally let her go.

That was, until his phone lit up with a FaceTime call.

Amaya’s name.

Roman was laying on his bed, pressing the buttons on to his PS5 controller like it was muscle therapy to the games he was playing. He smirked, already knowing what this was.

She was about to fold.

Again.

He answered with no hesitation.

“Miss me already?” he said, smug.

But his smirk vanished the second the screen loaded.

It wasn’t Amaya.

It was Melo.

Tears streaked down his round cheeks, face scrunched in frustration.

“Daddyyy!” he wailed.

Roman sat up, alarm bells firing.

“Melo? What happened? Why are you crying, bud?”

“Tyler took my game from me!” Melo sobbed harder. “Make him give it back!”

Roman blinked, anger rising beneath his confusion. “What do you mean he took your game?”

“I was playing my Tendo switch, and Mommy said to clean up before dinner, but I just wanted five more minutes,” he sniffled. “Tyler said I gotta listen to Mommy… but I am listening! I am Daddy! And then he snatched it and won’t give it back!”

Roman didn’t say another word. He ended the call, threw a hoodie on as quickly as he could and climbed into his car, barely giving the car any time to even warm up before he was speeding down the road.

Roman’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sped down the dim streets, jaw clenched, chest burning. His son’s voice echoed in his head—hurt, confused, crying. The audacity. The disrespect. Tyler had no business putting his hands on anything that belonged to his son. And Amaya? She really let this man play daddy? Roman’s blood boiled hotter with every mile. And ever second that ticked only reminded him, he wasn’t just pissed—he was ready for war.

And twenty minutes later, his car screeched to a stop in front of Amaya’s house.

He didn’t knock.

He used the emergency key she gave him over a year ago—back when they were still in the gray area. When she’d still let him crash on the couch or crawl into her bed when he missed his son too much to sleep without him.

She never took that key back.

And tonight?

She was about to regret that.

The key twisted in the lock before the door slammed open against the wall.

“Amaya!” Roman’s voice echoed like thunder through the house. “Where you at?!”

Amaya jolted from the kitchen, nearly dropping the plate in her hand.

“Roman?!”

His boots stomped through the hallway like a storm, and before she could even register the movement, he was standing in the living room—tall, dark, furious.

“Didn’t I tell you?!” Roman’s voice boomed before she could even register he was inside. “Ain’t nobody playin’ house with my son!”

Amaya spun from the kitchen. “Roman! What the hell?! You can’t just bust into my house!”

Roman slammed the door shut behind him with force. The sound echoed in the space like a warning shot.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked, voice low now, dangerous.

“I heard you,” she snapped. “But did you hear me? You can’t just bust into my fuckin—”

“I will bust into any house my son cries from,” he growled, stepping closer. “So don’t talk to me about boundaries when your little boyfriend thinks it’s cute to discipline my kid.”

“What are you even talking about?!”

“Tyler,” Roman said through gritted teeth. “Snatching Melo’s game out his hands like he’s his damn daddy.”

Amaya folded her arms, furious. “First of all, Tyler didn’t do anything but take a game after Melo refused to listen. It wasn’t deep—he was helping me.”

Roman laughed bitterly. “Helping you? Nah. He’s overstepping. And if you don’t check him, I will.”

Amaya shook her head. “He wasn’t snatching it, Roman—he was trying to get Melo to listen.” Amaya repeated.

“And what gives him the right?” Roman took another step forward, heat in his eyes. “You let him discipline my son now?”

“No one’s disciplining him! Tyler was trying to help me—”

“Help you do what?!” Roman snapped. “Strip me out of my son’s life one little piece at a time?!”

Amaya stepped closer too, matching his fire. “Don’t do that! Don’t twist it like I’m out here trying to replace you!”

“Then why he in the house like this his family?! Why he snatching games, making rules, getting involved in things that have nothing to do with him?! That’s my son, Amaya!”

Her jaw clenched. “I never said he wasn’t!”

“But you let another man treat him like he is!” Roman roared.

“I wasn’t even in the room, Roman! I didn’t tell him to do it!”

“You didn’t stop him either!”

“Roman—”

“Where’s he at?!” Roman barked, stepping past her.

“Don’t go back there,” Amaya said, blocking his path. “You need to chill the hell out. It’s not that serious.”

“He touched my son’s things. That makes it serious.”

“You’re doing too much.”

“I’m doing what you won’t do,” Roman bit back. “Protecting Melo from being treated like a kid who don’t got a whole father in his life.”

That’s when Tyler appeared in the hallway, shirtless, towel in hand, brows furrowed.

“I figured this was coming,” he muttered. “I heard Melo crying. Amaya told me to let her handle it. Guess you couldn’t wait.”

Roman’s gaze darkened.

“Guess you thought snatching a five-year-old’s game would prove something.”

“I didn’t snatch it,” Tyler said coolly. “I asked him twice. He ignored me. He’s a great kid, but even great kids need limits. I told him to listen to his mother.”

“You don’t get to discipline my son.”

“I didn’t discipline him. I redirected him.”

“Redirect this,” Roman said, stepping forward. “Get the fuck outta this house.”

Tyler squared up but didn’t move. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, you are. I ain’t gonna tell you again.”

Amaya stepped in between them, her voice shrill with frustration. “Stop it! Both of you!”

Roman didn’t even blink at her interruption. He was locked on Tyler like a lion waiting to pounce.

Tyler exhaled and turned to Amaya. “You want me to leave?”

Amaya looked between them—Roman’s fury, Tyler’s disappointment—and the weight of the moment froze her tongue.

Roman raised a brow. “Say it, Ma. Say it loud.”

The pause was suffocating.

Then Amaya sighed.

“No… I don’t want you to leave.”

Roman clenched his jaw, muscles ticking, eyes narrowing.

“Bet.”

He turned to her with that cold smile that always preceded some shit.

“Then do me a favor,” he said low. “Tell him goodnight.”

Amaya frowned. “What?”

Roman didn’t blink.

“Tell your boyfriend goodnight, Amaya,” he repeated. “Cause it’s time for him to go to bed.”

Tyler scoffed. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“You wanted to test me,” Roman said, now staring him down. “I got something better for you.”

Amaya blinked, torn. “Roman, you can’t just—”

“Oh, I can. And I will.”

“You’re not my man anymore.”

“But I’m still Melo’s father. And if my son’s calling me in tears ‘cause your man’s snatching his stuff, you’re damn right I’m gonna check it. I don’t give a damn if y’all are playin’ house now—I ain’t ever gon’ be no guest in my own son’s life.”

Tyler stepped in again, tone tight but measured. “You have every right to ask questions, Roman. But you don’t get to storm in here like you run this house. This ain’t about you—it’s about Amaya, and about Melo. We could’ve talked like men.”

Roman smirked. “You don’t wanna talk to me like no man.”

“Then what do you want?”

“To remind you,” Roman said, inching closer, “that Amaya may be trying to move on… but she ain’t never told me to give back the key. Never told me to stop showing up for her, for ours. And never—not once—said I was replaced.”

Tyler looked at Amaya again, voice low. “Is that true?”

Her lips parted, then closed again.

Roman cut in. “Go ‘head and tell him. Or I will.”

Tyler’s nostrils flared.

“You still want him here?” he asked her quietly.

Amaya hesitated again.

Then whispered, “I need to talk to Roman about Melo.”

Tyler swallowed, hurt swimming in his eyes. “Say less.”

He turned, walking back to the hallway.

Roman watched him go with a smug nod, then turned back to Amaya.

She was glaring at him now, tears on the edge of spilling.

“You’re disgusting,” she spat.

Roman shrugged. “But I’m right.”

“You used Melo to power trip your way back into my house.”

“No,” Roman said. “I used Melo as an example; to remind you that no man—no matter how stable, sweet, or shirtless—gets to erase me.”

“I hate you sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “But you love me more.”

Amaya shook her head, stepping back. “Get out.”

“I will. After we talk about our son.”

She blinked, caught in the loop of him all over again.

Roman moved, walking around her. Trying to stay clam, collected and in control.

Amaya stood there, throat tight, wondering how one man could make her feel so furious… and so seen.

The door had barely closed behind Tyler when the tension finally settled like fog in the living room.

Roman was standing near the window, arms folded over his chest, jaw tight. He couldn’t stay still; not with the anger that was coursing through her veins. He hadn’t softened. He just watched Amaya with those eyes that always saw too much.

“You know better,” he finally said, his voice low.

Amaya leaned on the back of the couch, arms wrapped around herself. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting nothin’,” Roman said. “I’m stating facts.”

She didn’t respond, so he continued.

“Don’t ever let that man tell my son what to do. Not like that.”

Her lips parted to speak, but he cut her off with a slow shake of his head.

“I mean it, Maya. Melo’s got a father. Alive and well. You wanna play house?” He took a step closer, gaze burning. “Fine. But not with my son. He has a father. Me. And I refuse to sit back and let another man try to take my place.”

The weight of his words sat heavy between them.

And despite the rage, there was something else in his eyes.

Something wounded.

Roman wasn’t just angry.

He was hurt.

And it was written all over him.

Amaya exhaled, rubbing her temples. “I didn’t plan for this to happen tonight.”

“But you let it,” Roman said. “You let that man think he has that kind of authority. That he can reach for something that belongs to me.”

Amaya’s head snapped up. “Melo doesn’t belong to you, Roman. He’s not a possession.”

“Didn’t say he was, but he’s my child.” Roman replied, voice eerily calm. “And he’s my responsibility. Mine and yours. Not his.”

Her arms dropped to her sides. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Then act like it.”

Amaya flinched at the sharpness in his tone. But deep down, a part of her… missed this. Not the anger. Not the drama.

But the fire.

Roman came in like a storm for their child—unfiltered, unapologetic, relentless. There was no hesitation, no ‘let me think about it.’ He moved off instinct. Off love. Off fire. The kind of love that crashed into you without warning and demanded to be felt.

And she hated how much she missed it.

That urgency. That passion. That gut-level protection that made her feel like, no matter how fractured things were between them, she and Melo would never be unguarded in this world.

Tyler didn’t move like that.

He moved slow. Calculated. Gentle. Like he was trying to win her over without startling her.

Roman moved like she was still his.

And for a minute there, she wished she was.

She blinked those thoughts away, not ready to examine them.

Roman stepped closer again, tone dipping.

“I ain’t tryna start no war, Amaya. But you know how I feel about my son. And you know damn well how I feel about you. You think I could stomach another man raising him like I’m not still standing right here?”

She looked away.

Roman sighed and ran a hand down his beard.

“You gave me a key, Maya.”

“It was for emergencies,” she whispered.

“This wasn’t one?”

Amaya closed her eyes, heart thudding against her ribs.

He was too much.

And still… never enough.

Before she could say anything, a soft voice interrupted them.

“Mommy?”

They both turned.

Melo stood in the hallway, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. His little body was still dressed in his Spider-Man pajamas, his curls a wild halo.

Roman immediately softened.

“Hey, buddy,” he murmured, crouching low.

Melo padded across the floor and threw himself into Roman’s chest. “You came,” he mumbled.

“Of course I did.” Roman kissed the top of his head. “You okay now?”

Melo nodded, sniffing. “Can you spend the night?”

Amaya’s heart sank. She didn’t even have to look at Roman to know the answer.

She already knew.

Roman looked up at her, holding Melo tightly.

“You good with that?” he asked, surprisingly respectful now.

Amaya hesitated. “He clearly needs you tonight.”

Roman nodded, stood, and cradled Melo in one arm like it was second nature. “Go get back in bed, bud. I’ll be there in a sec.”

Melo nodded sleepily and disappeared down the hallway again.

Roman didn’t move.

He looked at Amaya one last time before heading toward the guest room they used to share.

“I’ll let you go deal with your situation,” he said, coolly. “I’ll be with my son.”

And with that, he was gone.

_______________

Amaya took a deep breath before walking into her bedroom.

Tyler sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, body tense with quiet frustration.

He didn’t look up when she entered.

She shut the door gently behind her. “Ty—”

“Why does he have a key?”

His voice was sharp, no longer calm. The quiet storm had broken.

She flinched.

“It’s an old key,” she said honestly. “From before. He barely ever used it.”

“But he still has it,” Tyler said, finally looking up. His eyes were red—not from tears, but from sheer anger. “Why?”

Amaya opened her mouth, then shut it again.

She sat on the bed beside him, leaving a little space between them.

“It was for emergencies only,” she whispered. “In case of something with Melo. I forgot he even had it.”

Tyler let out a bitter laugh. “He didn’t forget. He knew exactly what he was doing tonight.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you take it back?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Because it never felt like a problem until now.”

Tyler turned toward her. “And now?”

“Now it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated,” he repeated flatly. “That’s what I am to you now?”

“No, Tyler, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Amaya?” he asked, voice rising. “Because I feel like a damn placeholder every time that man walks through the door. Like I’m just keeping your bed warm until he decides he wants it back.”

She swallowed hard. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

Silence.

He stood and walked to the window, staring out like he needed air.

“I get it. He’s Melo’s father. He’s part of your life whether I like it or not. But I can’t compete with a man you clearly haven’t let go of.”

Amaya stood too, tears stinging her eyes. “I have let him go.”

“Then why does he still get to walk into this house like he owns it?”

“Because sometimes it feels like he still does,” she whispered, the words hurting her more than him.

Tyler turned around slowly, disbelief written all over his face.

“Thank you,” he said, nodding to himself. “At least you’re honest.”

“Tyler—”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship where I’m always the second choice,” he said, voice firm now. “I deserve to be somebody’s first. Not the man who shows up after the storm.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” she shouted, then caught herself, quieter now. “Yes, I do. And I’m sorry.”

He exhaled, his voice breaking just a little. “I really love you, Amaya. And I love your son. I was willing to work through this. But if you’re still stuck between what you had and what you need… I can’t keep fighting ghosts.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Because she didn’t know what to say.

Roman was a ghost. A loud, living, walking memory that refused to fade.

But Tyler? Tyler was the present. The now.

And she was terrified she was about to lose him.

He grabbed his keys from the dresser.

“I’m gonna go. Let things cool off.”

Amaya reached for his arm. “Will you come back?”

Tyler looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Do you want me to?”

Her throat tightened.

“Yes.”

He studied her for a moment.

Then nodded once.

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And just like that, he left.

_______________

Amaya didn’t move for a long time.

Not until she heard the soft sound of giggles coming from Melo’s room.

She padded down the hall, heart heavy, and peeked inside.

Roman was laying on the twin bed, one leg hanging off, while Melo snuggled up against his side. He was telling him a story, using exaggerated voices, and their son was laughing like the earlier tears never happened.

That laughter—so full, so free—wrapped around the room like a balm.

Roman looked up and met her eyes.

And in that look was everything she wasn’t ready to confront.

Not yet.

Because in that one glance, she saw all the pieces of the life she used to imagine—safety, softness, family—and it scared her how badly she still wanted it.

It had been three days.

Three full days since that chaotic night.

Three full days since Roman let himself into her house like a wildfire, stormed through her living room with that big energy, checked Tyler like a grown man, and tucked Melo into bed like nothing happened.

Three full days since Amaya had heard from him in any meaningful way.

And she hated it.

She hated that she cared.

She hated how many times she picked up her phone to check if he’d texted back. Hated the stupid pit in her stomach every time his responses were dry as hell—just enough to show he was alive, but not enough to show he still cared.

Roman had never shut her out like this before. Not even during their worst fights. Not even when they’d broken up for real. He always circled back eventually. Always called. Always popped up with a cocky comment or a “come outside” text. That was just them—messy, dramatic, toxic even, but always connected.

Now?

Silence.

And it was wrecking her.

She knew she was reaching out more than she should. Knew she was chasing crumbs from a man who used to throw whole storms at her. But still… every time her phone buzzed, her breath caught in her throat.

Her last message had gone completely unanswered.

Amaya: I know that night was a lot. I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you good.

That had been yesterday.

Still no reply.

And it was eating her alive.

She dropped her phone on the coffee table with a frustrated sigh, curling up deeper into the corner of her couch as Naomi and Mariah walked in with smoothies in hand like they owned the place.

“You look like you ain’t slept in three days,” Naomi said, flopping down beside her.

“That’s because I haven’t,” Amaya muttered.

Mariah raised a brow as she sat in the armchair across from her. “Still no word?”

“Just silence or one-word answers. Y’all, I texted him and said I was checking on him. He didn’t even reply.”

Naomi sipped her drink. “That man is pouting.”

“And being petty,” Mariah added.

“And for what?” Amaya threw up her hands. “I didn’t do anything. Tyler took the game, not me!”

“You didn’t stop him either,” Mariah pointed out gently.

Amaya sighed. “I know. But… damn. I didn’t think it’d make Roman fall back like this.”

Naomi gave her a knowing look. “He’s not just falling back. He’s punishing you.”

Amaya paused. “For what?”

“For letting another man overstep with his son,” Naomi said. “You already know Roman don’t play about Melo.”

“I didn’t even realize it was gonna go there. I wasn’t thinking.”

Mariah leaned forward. “Let me ask you something real quick. Why does he have a key?”

Amaya blinked. “What?”

“The key, Amaya. The one he used to let himself in like he still lived here.”

Amaya didn’t answer right away.

Then she shrugged.

“We have a kid together,” she said simply. “Roman deserves full access to his child. It’s for emergencies. That’s it.”

Naomi nodded. “And that’s fair.”

Mariah sat back. “You sure it’s just for emergencies?”

“Yes,” Amaya said too quickly. “He rarely used it. I forgot he even had it.”

“But you never asked for it back.”

“I never needed to.”

“Until now,” Mariah pressed.

Amaya didn’t answer.

She rubbed her forehead and sank lower into the cushions.

Naomi gave Mariah a small look and a shrug, but before either of them could speak again, Amaya suddenly sat up.

“Guys… if you would’ve just seen the way he came into my house.”

Naomi and Mariah looked at each other.

“The way he walked in like he owned the place. The way his voice filled the room. The way he stood in front of Tyler like, ‘You think you can replace me?’ I swear my heart was in my damn throat.”

Naomi lifted a brow. “Oh?”

“And then when he saw Melo? The switch flipped. All that fire, all that anger just… melted. And he held him like he was the most precious thing in the world. I couldn’t stop looking.”

Naomi smirked and looked at Mariah, who was already biting back a smile.

“Girl,” Naomi said, chuckling, “I thought you were supposed to be mad? Why you gushing over him storming your house like that?”

“I’m not gushing!” Amaya said quickly, but her cheeks flushed traitorously.

“Oh, but you are,” Mariah said with a little laugh.

“I’m not—”

“And why do you care that he’s giving you the cold shoulder now?” Mariah cut her off, more serious this time. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

The room went quiet.

Amaya didn’t say anything.

Because deep down, she knew the answer.

No.

It wasn’t what she wanted.

She wanted boundaries.

She wanted clarity.

But she never wanted to feel ignored by Roman. Not like this. Not after everything they’d been through.

Because truthfully?

When he pulled back… it hurt more than she ever thought it would.

Naomi leaned in. “You want him to chase you again.”

“No,” Amaya whispered, “I want him to care. I want him to show me that he still gives a damn. That I matter outside of Melo.”

Mariah’s voice softened. “You do know you still matter to him, right? You saw how he walked in that night.”

“I know,” Amaya whispered, voice cracking. “But now it’s like I crossed some invisible line and he’s treating me like a stranger.”

Naomi tilted her head. “And if he called you right now? What would you do?”

Amaya didn’t hesitate.

“I’d answer.”

Mariah sighed. “And Tyler?”

“Tyler never called.”

Both women stilled.

“He said he’d call me the next day,” Amaya continued. “Said he needed to cool off. That was four days ago.”

“Have you reached out to him?”

“No,” she said, quieter now. “I figured if he cared, he would’ve called.”

Naomi let out a soft “Damn.”

Amaya laughed bitterly. “So now I’m sitting here… no man, no peace, no idea what the hell I’m doing.”

“You’re figuring it out,” Mariah said gently. “This is just the messy part.”

“The messy part sucks,” Amaya muttered.

Naomi got up and sat beside her, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah. But sometimes the mess is where the truth shows up.”

Amaya leaned into her.

And the truth?

Was that as much as she tried to convince herself she needed something new…

She missed Roman like hell.

How are we feeling? And how we feel about Naomi? Or even Mariah? 👀

Y’all agree with Roman or he doing too much? 👀 Or maybe Amaya doing too little?

Or Maybe Tyler coming from the right place but Roman ain’t fuckin with it?

#empressdede #empresswriting #wwe #black reader #roman reigns #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black reader #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns x black!reader #Tangled In the ashes

106 notes · View notes

empressdede · 15 days ago

Text

My favorite animal is when people tell me to back to my country and then I tell them to go back to theirs cause this one belong to Native Americans. 😂 Least I know where my people came from DITZYYY

And Calling me the N word with the hard ER doesn’t hurt my feelings like you want it to you white cockroach😂😂 Not finna let no member of the Klu Klux Kleenex make me feel NO typa way… ya feel me? 😂😂

#empressdede #lmfaoooo

5 notes · View notes

empressdede · 17 days ago

Text

Bad For Me

In the smoke-filled silence, love and resentment wage war until passion wins.

The air in the car was heavy, suffocating, like the smoke itself had weight. It clung to Athena’s skin, to her hair, seeping into her clothes as if determined to follow her home and remind her of this moment long after she drove away. The blunt in Elias’s hand was nothing but an ember now, the tip glowing faintly each time he took a drag and pulled the poison deep into his lungs. The inside of the car smelled of weed, leather, and faint traces of his cologne — one of those scents that lingered long after he left a room.

It was too much. Too close. Too him.

Athena stared out the window, jaw tight, arms folded, as if her body could protect her from the pull she swore she’d left behind months ago. She could hear Sophia’s voice in her head even now: “Don’t go. Leave that nigga where he at. He had his chance.” She should’ve listened. She should’ve kept her pride intact, blocked his number, and never looked back. But when his name flashed on her screen, after two and a half months of silence, her chest betrayed her. She answered. She came.

And now she sat here wondering why the hell she agreed.

“Damn,” Elias said finally, voice smooth and teasing, like he hadn’t shattered her before. “I can’t get no hug, no kiss, no nun?”

Athena didn’t look at him. “No.” The word came sharp, blunt, and final.

He sucked his teeth, the sound loud in the cramped silence, before pulling another drag. Smoke clouded around him, curling into the dim light of the dashboard, blurring his features in a way that almost softened them. Almost.

The silence returned, thicker this time. Athena scrolled her phone, pretending she cared about whatever was on her screen, anything to avoid looking at him.

He leaned back against the seat, watching her from the corner of his eye. “So you just gon’ stare at your phone the whole time?” he asked, his voice low, laced with irritation.

“Mhmm.” She shrugged, still not sparing him a glance. “You the one that wanted to talk. I’m here. Talk.”

That pushed a nerve. Without warning, his hand shot out, snatching the phone from her grip.

“Yo!” she snapped, twisting to face him, her body heat rising instantly.

“We came here to talk,” he said again, firmer this time, eyes narrowing.

Her glare cut sharp. “You came here to talk. I came to listen. And so far, all you doing is sitting there looking like somebody stole your last dollar.”

For a second his lips twitched. Then he chuckled, a low sound that made her bristle. “Same Athena.”

“And same Elias,” she shot back, her tone bitter.

He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. She was angry — rightfully so. And he couldn’t even be mad about it. But he also knew her; knew how she layered herself in steel whenever she was hurt. Knew you couldn’t meet her walls with force, not at first. You had to coax her, soften her, before you reminded her who you were.

He let out a slow sigh, lowering his voice. “Okay, Thena. You right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want you upset, ya feel me?”

She turned on him, scoffing, the sound raw. “Now you care about my feelings? Where was all that when you told me I was nothing? Where was it when I told you I was pregnant and you—”

His head snapped toward her, his voice defensive and sharp. “Don’t twist it. Don’t act like I forced you into anything. You said you wasn’t keeping it anyway.”

Her throat closed, eyes burning. She clenched her fists tight in her lap. “And you couldn’t even show me an ounce of compassion? Who the fuck says, ‘yeah, go ‘head and do that’ when I tell you I don’t want to keep it? You didn’t check on me. Didn’t even ask if I was okay. You just showed me exactly how little I meant to you.”

His chest tightened at her words, his pride warring with guilt. “And what the fuck was I supposed to say, Athena? You had your mind made up. You straight up told me you ain’t want a baby with me. That’s your words.”

The words cracked something open inside her. Her chest heaved, her eyes locked on his. “Because how could I?” she shot back, voice breaking but fierce. “How could I raise a baby in this… whatever the fuck this is? With a man who don’t take me serious, who dismisses my feelings like they don’t matter? You really think I was gonna bring a child into that? Into feeling unwanted, unloved, like I did growing up? Hell no. I’ll be damned if my kid ever feels like I felt.”

Her voice wavered, the heartbreak raw, and Elias’s jaw clenched. He looked away, dragging a hand down his face. He hated her sounding like that — broken because of him.

“Thena…” he started, softer this time. “Okay. You right. But we both wrong too. We said shit we ain’t mean. You hurt my ego, I hurt your feelings. I hate that. I ain’t proud of that. I’m sorry, aight? I didn’t mean that shit.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Do you even hear yourself? You think an apology just erases the fact that you left me to bleed by myself? You think ‘I didn’t mean it’ is enough to make me forget how you made me feel disposable?”

Her voice cracked, but she kept her chin high.

His hand flexed against his thigh, his pride screaming at him to snap back. But he forced the words through clenched teeth anyway. “I’m sorry, Athena. For real. I ain’t handle it right. I shoulda checked on you. I shoulda been better. I fucked up.”

Her chest tightened, the sincerity in his tone rattling her. She wanted to believe him. God, she wanted to. But wanting and trusting weren’t the same. Her heart stuttered at the words, but she refused to give in. She turned her head, staring out the window, her fingers picking at her nails, her chest rising and falling too fast. The apology was something—but it didn’t erase the nights she spent crying alone, didn’t erase the sting of being made to feel disposable.

“I hear you,” she said finally, her voice low. “But that don’t mean it fixes shit.”

For a beat, silence sat between them again, heavier now, charged. His hand moved, slow and deliberate, reaching for her jaw. She tried to look away, but his grip held her, firm but careful, pulling her eyes back to his.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers. “I’m sorry.”

Her chest rose and fell too fast, her lips parting. Something in her melted despite herself, her pride screaming at her not to let it.

“I hear you, Stack,” she whispered.

The name cut him, sharp and unexpected. He pulled back slightly, his teeth gritting. “Why the fuck you calling me that?”

She rolled her eyes, retreating into her armor. “Boy, the whole world calls you Stack. You’ll live.”

He stared at her, frustration tugging at his features. He leaned closer, crowding her space until she could feel the heat of him, smell the smoke clinging to his clothes. “So I still can’t get my hug?”

“No,” she snapped.

He smirked, ignoring her protest. His hand slid higher, wrapping gently but firmly around her throat, pulling her closer. His breath brushed her lips, his voice low and rough. “S’okay. Come give Daddy a kiss instead.”

She gasped, but before she could argue, his mouth crashed onto hers.

The kiss was fire and chaos, sloppy and desperate, his lips devouring hers like he was starving. Her body froze for half a second before it betrayed her completely, melting into the heat of him, her mouth moving against his, her pulse hammering in her ears.

She pulled back with a gasp, her chest heaving, her eyes catching on the thin string of saliva still connecting them. “Stack—” she tried, her voice trembling.

His grip tightened, pulling her back before she could finish. His lips claimed hers again, harder this time, possessive. Her moan slipped out, muffled between them, her body going pliant even as her mind screamed no.

The car was hot, their breaths fogging the windows, the smoke thick around them. His hand slid to the side of her neck, thumb pressing into her pulse, while his other hand gripped her thigh, grounding her to him.

When he finally tore his mouth from hers, his lips dragged against her jaw, down to her ear. “Tell Daddy you miss him,” he whispered, the words vibrating against her skin.

Her entire body shivered, goosebumps racing over her arms. Butterflies twisted in her stomach, her chest aching with the pull of everything she was fighting against. She shook her head, weak but defiant.

He pulled back just enough to see her face, his eyes dark, his smirk slow and dangerous. “S’alright, baby. We gon’ get it outta you.”

The words lingered heavy, leaving her chest hollow and full at the same time, pride and longing warring violently inside her. She hated him for being right. Hated him for knowing her body better than she knew herself.

And hated herself most of all for already knowing — eventually, she would fold.

I was gonna write smut for this and decided, I could make this a two part series ☺️ maybe three if necessary.

How we feeling yall? 🫣 All comments are welcomed.

I did add my VIP taglist but if you want to be removed from this and only be tagged for my wrestling content, just please let me know and I can have you removed❤️ Thank youuu.

Tagging the lovelies: @plan3tch1ld @venusesworld @tnychellee @chocobuttabaybee @yana3sworld @desire4ella @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00 @isabella-2025 @jstarr86 @chrisevanswife0405 @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @whowrotethenote @potatosackk @ajaxcleaningsupplies @sayyestoheav3nn @chasssssworld @christinabae @glittergirl7 @itskii01 @fame-ass-ers @li-da-savage @ashykneee @kianaleani @holisticcoach @pittieprincess22 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandairene88 @luvrsluxe @venusesworld @norababora @callmekayd @chrissyxcxox @keyera-jackson @wabi-sabi1090 @psiloveyOu @baybehkay @nybearsworld @transparentphantomface @sassginaswanmills @fafomama @wooahmiri @theusotwinzcom @westcoast-babygirl @prettygixlnica @blackchickinthedesert @abandonedkooee @mackfinstathrowitback

#empressdede #empresswriting #sinners #sinners fanfiction #elias stack moore #stack moore #stack moore x oc #stack x black reader #stack x black oc #elias x reader #elias x black reader #elias moore x black reader #elias moore x black oc #elias moore x reader #black reader

169 notes · View notes