minteagalaxea

[minteagalaxea]

omg thank you so much you're one of my absolute faves 🩶

also @spiicii . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @nyxipixy . @crzydemona

favirote moots?

(People you tag have to reblog and say their favorite moots)

Okay wait

@ibrokeurheartbcuzubrokemine @foliverfalls @allyeilishh @addisonraesbaby @emiliesblohsh @bilsslut @noodleswashere @bilsbabyy @bitchesbrokenpromises @billsdollie

[minteagalaxea]

thank you for perpetually endorsing my shenanigans and all 🩶

I'm at work right now.. on lunch reading fics . I have 4 more hours til I'm off work but my panties are soaked because Roman Reigns and the Usos😩

Whew chile I’ve been there before😭😭. And it’s all thanks to the following people:

Roman Reigns

Jey Uso

Jimmy Uso

@acknowledge-reigns

@reignseclipse

@spiicii

@trippinsorrows

@minteagalaxea

Thank you ladies for feeding my thoughts.😭

[minteagalaxea]

magnetic almond | r. reigns

roman reigns . sucrose/dextrose series

genre: smut (minors dni) . some plot content warnings: pool/bath sex . daddy kink . oral (male receiving) . fingering . overstimulation . age gap (reader is in early twenties) . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . word count: 2.42k inspiration: my mom being a nail tech . press on nails . underground pools . really nice bathtubs . marble countertops songs: "water" by seventeen (x) . "nectar" by bm ft. jay park (x) read also: "jelly coffin" (x) . "matte stiletto" (x) note: thank you so so much always @spiicii for helping soundboard, that one post someone made and @lov3rla03 endorsing it. this is kinda fun and different to explore for my writing, but i'm excited!

almond shaped nails have rounded sides and a pointed tip, reminiscent of the nut they are named after. this can be achieved with either natural nails or with extensions, and generally look best at around a medium to long length to truly achieve the almond shape. they create the illusion of lengthening the fingers.

magnetic polishes contain metallic particles (typically iron oxide) that interact with a magnet when wet to align them with the direction of the magnetic field before being cured under a uv lamp. this is the science behind the iconic “cat-eye” design, and can be layered with other polishes to create dimension and a variety of hybrid styles.

rome was a stunning place. it had been on her list of places to travel, and when she was in the fifth grade, she had made it somewhat clear that she wanted to settle there for an extended period of time. she didn’t want to worry about anything anymore, didn’t want to have to worry about how to afford living when she wanted to focus on other things in her life—valuable things.

she still couldn’t believe that roman had taken her to an apartment where she had always dreamed of, with every little detail accounted for—the entry scent (acqua di gio by giorgio armani), the decor (soft jade accents, just like how she preferred her jewelry, and for good luck), and the furniture (creamy, milky white fabric).

“daddy,” she fawned, surprise evident in her tone as she peered around the surroundings, “this is so perfect. you always choose our suites so well.” her fingers brushed the hardwood table, and the jade carving of a cloud. a part of her hackled at her, unnerved at how…perfectly the suite catered to her tastes for long-term residence. the knowing smirk on his face didn’t help much as she turned in his arms to face him. “what’s with the smirk?”

roman’s voice carried a sort of warmth that only really came when he did something for her that meant something for the long-term. an investment in them, he often framed it. “well, remember all those years ago when you said you wanted to stay in rome for a long time?” he asked, voice warm as molten honey as he rocked them side to side.

when she nodded, he continued, “got this place just for you, baby. you can stay here whenever we’re not traveling. it’s all yours to care for.”

“and you’ll stay here with me, daddy?” she asked, eyes wide as her nails brushed his beard.

his voice resonated heartily in his chest, lips brushing the side of her head with assurance, “always, baby. did you think i wouldn’t?” roman pulled her hands up to rest on his beard, allowing her newly-done almond nails to scratch his beard, the soft hairs delicately brushing the shimmering ocean blue gloss of her nail polish. in the golden light, the sparkles radiated more as the sunlight hit them just right. “your nails look gorgeous, love,” he crooned, tilting his head to kiss the side of her own.

“well, you always picked them well,” she responded, because she was right, after all. every trip always involved a new set of nails, and it always seemed to suit the location—a deep purple when they went to shanghai, dark blood red for wrestlemania in las vegas, even a shimmering teal for when they went to nassau. but, this set seemed to fit rome better than she anticipated, and it wasn’t until he led her downstairs that she truly saw why.

there was a pool. a stunning pool that she knew couldn’t have been fabricated by mortal men. it looked befitting of gods, merely furnished with a few chaises and tables for her, him, and any guests they might have wanted to entertain. the lap pool was deep enough for her to tread her legs in, and it suddenly hit her why daddy had told her to wear that bikini on the jet, no matter how impractical it felt at the time.

roman assisted in removing her flowing, floral silk overcoat from her shoulders, haphazardly tossing it onto the chair that reminded her of a shell. “go on, baby,” he rasped into her ear, “take a dip for me. wanna see you enjoying your new pool.” his lips brushed hers in an ephemeral, doting kiss.

as always, she obliged. her toes brushed into the water, and it was the most refreshing dip she got to experience, especially now that it was all hers to enjoy and own. when she craned her head, she saw the heady haze in his eyes from seeing her posterior. it emboldened her to properly dive into the pool, a proper form about her as she swam several laps. it was divine, hearing nothing but the gentle rippling of the water as she drowned into its crystal clear depths. her swimming, however, took a massive impasse when she heard an uncharacteristic splash into the water. surfacing, she saw roman sitting at the edge, legs inside the pool and spread wide. she slinked over to him, effortlessly and soundlessly gliding in the water to rise up in that tantalizing, seducing form. her nimble fingers prodded at the string of his swim trunks; her glossy nails pawed and clawed at the waistband, right at his hips to jettison it away.

“let me take care of you, daddy,” she pouted, nuzzling his inner thigh once she managed to get her way and his pants off. his cologne, something clean and soft and easy on her delicate olfactory sense. her lips roamed closer, her legs kicking back and forth rhythmically while she nosed his balls, getting him to come closer. daddy’s hand came to brush her hair as best as he could, though it was still with that firmness that she had grown accustomed to with him.

resting her hands on his thighs, she dragged him closer to her, lips wrapped around him like she didn’t want to let go. not that she did want to let go to begin with, but the point stood as her tongue flicked the sensitive tip with intention. already, he groaned, all guttural and low and fierce that made her sex pulsate in the water and her kicking falter. her almond tips dug into his thighs, then moving towards his lower spine, with her arms coiling around his waist instead, keeping them both steady. his arms wrapped around her shoulders, providing him with easier access to rake through her tresses while she worked.

the thing about work—at least, to her—was she loved taking her time with her daddy. she never wanted to rush too much. the only issue here was…he was fucking irresistible. truly, wholly so. so, when she got too impatient, a bit too ahead of herself and nearly fucking choked on the sheer girth of him. “steady, baby,” he chided gently, but firmly, thumbing her temples as a visual reminder.

she wasn’t good with patience at times when it came to him. she was lucky he was. for the most part, at least. roman reigns wasn’t a man that tended to rush anything. he really wasn’t.

to the matter at hand, she heeded the reminder, just barely. yet, she took him down all the same, his shape bulging from her throat just so as her nose brushed his abdomen. “fuck,” he groaned, his gravelly baritone reverberating in the stony basement of the apartment. her head continued to bob with each pass, eyes boring into his like pools of clear water to reflect himself. “you’re fucking gorgeous, baby.”

if she could smile at the praise, she would, though she supposed equal repayment would be swirling her tongue on that particular vein on the underside, hollowing her cheeks out just a little bit more. it earned her a weighted, guttural sound—one that always let her know that he was close to the precipice. she pushed herself just a bit more to get him there, swallowing around his shaft here, adjusting her movements so only the tip remained in her mouth to affix herself back to the hilt once more. it felt like the sea in that regard, with the ebbing and flowing, power and restraint. it was a dance neither of them grew exhausted of, and it was one that brought them back to one another again and again.

it didn’t take that much longer for him to spill in her mouth, emerging in heavy spurts, warm and comforting like rice milk. roman tugged her close to him, his hand braced against the junction of her neck and spine. he threw his head back from the euphoria she wrought upon him. she adored seeing her daddy like this, his normally stoic composure just gone. yet, it elicited a sense of joy deep in her chest, that she was able to turn someone like roman reigns into an ocean of blistering relief. the way he gazed down at her afterwards—panting and smoldering and proud—spiked something in her cunny, her walls clenching around nothing.

with his grip on her neck, roman effortlessly pulled her out of the pool in one fluid motion, transitioning into a bridal carry with equally minimal exertion. “you were so good for me, baby,” he cooed, that warmth settling in her stomach again as he bundled her in a soft towel (courtesy of the warmer near one of the chaises).

what made her pussy clench again was him saying, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

long ago, she learned something about scents, and how it affected memory. how it lasted the longest due to the direct route it took to the olfactory system from the bulb to the hippocampus and amygdala. it was something she told roman a while ago, back when they were first getting to know each other before they signed the contract and stuff. she hadn’t realized how he kept that to heart until he first took her to japan, gifting her with a perfume that reminded her of the matcha they had in uji and fukuoka. she gifted him for christmas the cologne he now wore on a consistent basis. it became a ritual, of sorts, wherein every trip was commemorated with a perfume of some sort. this time was no exception as she moaned in the bathtub.

the air wafted the familiar notes of armani’s acqua di gioia as roman’s warm hand covered her entire fucking cunt, her hips canting in the luxurious bath and eyes rolling to the back of her head. her nails matched the rippling water that splashed along her hand; her knuckles whitened with the grip she had on the edge of the tub. roman’s fingers plunged in and out of her depths at a thorough—albeit blistering—pace.

“daddy, i can’t,” she cried, contorting her head to bury herself into the junction of his neck as he brought her devastatingly higher to her precipice. he had done it several times over already, forcing her to count each and every one. this current one was verging onto her fifth.

roman’s voice was intense, insistent in its finality as he smacked her vulva several times over, “you can, baby. daddy knows you can.”

in a way, it was a sort of cycle they played. he liked pushing her to her limits, seeming to have a better grasp for them that she did. she always groused when he pushed her another climax past her record with him, and he was always steady and certain when he spanked her pussy as a symbol that he was going to bring that out of her. sometimes, she wondered why she griped about it. he hadn’t been wrong yet, but the pace he set on her was absolutely punishing.

water splashed out of the tub while her hips bucked just so, merely tempered by a warning hand against her sternum and another forceful spank to her cunt. a violent gasp choked out of her throat while her walls spasmed and gushed obscenely onto her body as he pushed into another climax. “shit—daddy,” she cried, deeply inhaling his cologne to ground herself as he worked through it again with that endless patience of his.

“again, babygirl,” he said, voice full of awe and expectation as his fingers, a third one in there now while his thumb rubbed her overworked, overstimulated, oversensitive little clit. the maelstrom of sensations, of touch, of texture, of scent was overwhelming in all the best ways. her nails, those almond-shaped beauties that flickered and sparkled in the amber lighting of the bathroom and the crystalline semi-purity of the water. her noises ran rampant, more escalating in pitch and fervency.

“please, daddy, please,” she breathed, one of the few words she had left in her mind. at this point, she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to keep going or stop.

his pace remained that unrelenting force it had been since the start of the bath. and things weren’t getting any better now that he wanted to stimulate her sensitive chest. roman latched his mouth against her chest; her almond claws dug crimson rivulets further into his thighs, vibrating in his embrace as his tongue flicked her nipple. his fingers—those deft, dangerous fingers—plunged deeper, pressed up into that spongy spot of hers that had her screeching unceremoniously and rather unattractively. daddy didn’t a flying fuck about that, greedy and mildly impatient in that way of his for more of her.

one, two more thrusts of those devilish fingers and a well-timed flick of his tongue to her pebbled nipple later, her latest climax crashed over like a torrential, relentless wave of euphoria that whited out her vision and washed her up onto the shore. her lungs gasped for air brutally, with roman’s free hand steadying her at her abdomen. “that’s it, baby,” he crowed, that raspy baritone melting her more and prolonging that oceanic high, “give it to me, all of it.”

she did—with pride. always, because it was him. and when he tangled his tongue against hers in a filthy, dizzying kiss, his fingers moving inside her soft, velvety depths, demanding another one out of her, she could only oblige.

she drowned in the scent of acqua di gioia, the sight of blue, the taste of him on her tongue, the sound of the ocean, and the sight of blue in the water, her nails, and the safety of her daddy’s warmth as she fell deeper into him.

the last thing she thought was that rome was perfect.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @geekinstilettos . @pr0wlerpunk . @miss-kuki-nz

[minteagalaxea]

boy toy | overview

jey uso x seth rollins x fem!reader synopsis -> your sugar daddy, seth rollins, buys you a penthouse in every city he brings you to. the most recent addition is miami, though he can’t always be there to keep you company. instead, he decides to rent a pretty boy toy to keep you entertained while he’s busy with work. jey, an escort working for one of seth’s business associates, signs a contract to stay with you in your penthouse full time. while it begins as nothing more than a job for jey, lines begin to blur as the relationship between the three of you grows deeper.  general warnings -> mdni, 18+ only, sugar daddy au, prostitution au, dom!seth, switch!jey, switch!reader, threesome (m/m/f), daddy kink, dom/sub, objectification, degradation, humiliation, pet play completed chapters -> chapter one ┃ chapter two ┃ chapter three links -> masterlist ┃ taglist

the penthouse

If Miami hasn't got it, they haven't invented it yet.

the characters

What happens in Miami, stays in Miami.

jey uso • 39 • leo • the boy toy 

Life’s about pleasure. And I wanna make the most of it.

♡ a male escort employed by triple h enterprises ♡ enjoys his job though dislikes how much power he’s forced to give his boss, hunter helmsley ♡ swore to never do a long-term contract again after the last one went poorly, though hunter pressured him into accepting one with seth ♡ specialties: submission, obedience, crying on command

seth rollins • 39 • gemini • the visionary 

I am an architect. I am a revolutionary. I am a visionary.

♡ a wealthy businessman who has often been described as having “more money than god” ♡ has a variety of both legitimate and illegitimate business ♡ has connections in every major industry — you’ve been his date to the met gala, a royal wedding in qatar, and paris fashion week (twice) ♡ has a close inner circle, though seth has made it clear that he doesn’t trust anybody but you, bayley, and mox

bayley • 36 • gemini • the personal chef 

Whatever your heart desires.

♡ seth’s personal chef  ♡ her sweet and sunny disposition make her essential part of seth's entourage ♡ probably makes more money than any other personal chef in the world, travelling with you and seth everywhere you go ♡ one of the few people that seth genuinely trusts

jackie redmond • 37 • aries • the personal assistant 

Personal assistant [noun]: someone who runs the entire life of another person who would be unable to exist without their help.

♡ seth relies on her to keep things running, whether its taking notes in a meeting or running errands for you ♡ new to the job, but has already proven herself indispensable ♡ although you have a bit of a crush on her, seth already discovered that she's in a relationship and (unfortunately) monogamous

jon moxley • 39 • sagittarius • the death rider

I eliminate problems. End of story.

♡ seth’s head of security and longest ally, seth considers him to be the one person in the world he truly trusts ♡ handles all of seth’s dirty work ♡ a skilled marksman and experienced fighter, he is never one to shy away from a fight ♡ although he comes off as terrifying and aloof to others, he is affectionate to those he cares about

cody rhodes • 40 • cancer • the american nightmare 

I'm not your dream. I’m your nightmare.

♡ oversees seth’s business operations on the west coast ♡ on the surface, he appears friendly and diplomatic, though this facade is merely for political purposes. once the facade drops, he is known to be cold, calculating, and cruel ♡ seth considers him two-faced and trusts him less than his other associates, though he still respects cody’s ruthless efficiency and skill ♡ while cody has always been sweet to you, seth doesn't allow him to get too close

hunter helmsley • 55 • leo • the king of kings

They want to serve? I’ll give them a king.

♡ ceo of triple h enterprises, a high-end escort service that operates out of miami ♡ controlling, demanding, and sometimes cruel, he is determined to maintain his company's reputation and train his employees to be the very best ♡ keeps the city cops on the payroll to avoid legal issues, though he is looking to expand his business out of miami ♡ was originally threatened by seth’s operations in miami, though the two came to an uneasy alliance

drew mcintyre • 40 • gemini • the scottish warrior

They call me a psychopath. That's ridiculous. I only kill people I don't like.

♡ oversees seth’s business operations in europe ♡ runs the business with an iron fist – uncompromising and cruel ♡ comes from a family of old money in scotland with connections to the british royal family ♡ has a soft spot for those he cares about, which is probably why his sweetheart, minnie, is the only one who can curb his violent temper 

minnie • they/them • 25 • pisces • the nature spirit

Joy is in the little things.

♡ close friends with you and ryan, damian's sugar baby, though is often shy and reclusive ♡ although they would technically be classified as drew's sugar baby, they're very different from you and ryan, often preferring to spend their time alone in drew’s mansion or exploring the scottish countryside  ♡ was rescued by drew from a deal gone bad in paris, the two of them forming a close bond ♡ a good friend but often forgets to keep in touch, spending much of their time baking, sewing, and foraging

damian priest • 42 • libra • the punisher 

Respect is met with respect. Disrespect is met with punishment.

♡ one of seth’s closest advisors in charge of overseeing operations on the east coast ♡ considered “new money” which often results in snubs from fat politicians and aristocrats in new york ♡ does not tolerate disrespect and is calculated in doling out punishment to those who dare cross his path  ♡ has a good working relationship with seth, cody, and drew and often plays peacemaker between the three of them

ryan • 25 • virgo • the dark angel 

I’m not one of those girls that falls for the nice guy. 

♡ as damian’s sugar baby, she enjoys a luxurious lifestyle in New York where she often hosts elaborate parties and social events ♡ met damian at a bar in mexico, the two forming an instant connection  ♡ outgoing, unapologetic, confident, she is a major player in the new york socialite scene ♡ a loyal friend who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, you can always rely on her to have your back

jimmy uso • 39 • leo • the older twin

Come play with me.

♡ employed by triple h enterprises  ♡ loves his job and has developed a reputation as the company's best brat-tamer ♡ considered to be the more “unruly” of the uso twins, fighting back against his boss’s absolute power (often to his own detriment)  ♡ specialties: dominance, brat-taming, humiliation 

randy orton • 45 • aries • the viper 

God help whoever decides to get in my way.

♡ a powerful businessman operating out of miami that has allied himself with hunter to assist him in expanding his business  ♡ cruel, cunning, and famously hot-tempered ♡ a frequent client at triple h enterprises, though hunter has banned him from long-term contracts after he damaged one of hunter's prized employees

roman reigns • 40 • gemini • the face of the company

I am levels above you. And I live at this level.

♡ employed by triple h enterprises ♡ hunter’s most exclusive and lucrative employee with only a handful of elite clients ♡ due to his success, hunter allows him more freedom to choose his clients and preferences ♡ specialties: dominance, roleplay degradation, aftercare

cm punk • 46 • scorpio • the best in the world 

I’ve been in this business a long time. Pleasure is power.

♡ employed by triple h enterprises  ♡ his mouth has kept him from receiving the same privileges as other star employees, despite his experience and tenure ♡ although he's considered bratty and disrespectful, hunter has a soft spot for him and indulges it ♡ specialties: masochism, bratting, bondage

paul heyman • 59 • virgo • the wiseman 

Being honest doesn't have much to do with being a lawyer.

♡ seth's attorney and legal counsel kept on retainer ♡ considered one of the best lawyers in the world and brags that he has never lost a case ♡ knows the ins and outs of seth's business and the legal loopholes that keep the federal agencies off his back (for now) ♡ has no personal loyalty to seth and is only motivated by money

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum @marababyyyy @transparentphantomface @eringobragh420 @tssweets @kelbrave @astria0wwe @fairiebabey @romanreignsbae @mandmilovehim @briabrae @psilovey0u @80sredroad @ajenae @dumb-b4mbi @4milly @breathewwe @lov3rla03 @sgt-peppers-coffee-club

[minteagalaxea]

first favorite .

current favorites .

tagging . @miss-kuki-nz @acute-crashout-jeyuso

new game who was your FIRST favorite wrestler vs your current fav wrestler

[minteagalaxea]

Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories, itemized number lists be damned.

[minteagalaxea]

So I’ve been lurking for awhile and just wanted to say that I really like your fics especially your big Jim one! everyone always writes for jey and I’ve been looking for some good jimmy fics and yours are amazing!

hi!! thank you so so much, and i’m glad you’ve enjoyed reading them all! (sorry, i’m really bad at answering asks, i’m very much blushing rn)

[minteagalaxea]

matte stiletto | jm. uso

jimmy uso . sucrose/dextrose series

genre: smut (minors dni) . minimal plot content warnings: public sex (vibrator use in public) . edging . overstimulation . orgasm denial . daddy kink (self-explanatory) . car sex . oral sex (male receiving) . facial . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . implied age gap (reader is in early twenties) . facials . wet and messy word count: 1.92k inspiration: jimmy's shenanigans on total divas . my mom as a nail tech . jimmy's outfit for the hof 2025 . limos . press on nails songs: "partition" by beyoncé (x) . "your idol" by saja boys (x) read also: "jelly coffin" (x) . "magnetic almond" (x) note: thank you always to @spiicii for helping me always with sound boarding my ideas and always keeping me motivated and productive, am always so grateful for you <3. also thank you to @lov3rla03 and the shenans that have also kept me motivated. also sorry for this coming out really late...i just graduated university and was moving...

stiletto nails are generally long, sharp nails that end into a point. generally, these are performed with nail extensions due to the strength required to have the natural nail be the desired length to shape into. these are considered the longer sister to the shorter mountain peak nails. this shape is excellent for flashy, bold designs.

matte finishes contain no shine whatsoever, creating no reflective cast. this is ideal for designs that highlight the vivacity and intensity of the polish color, or to highlight intricate details and designs. they are also often used for chrome powders to isolate the design and greater precision during application.

she knew that she definitely fucked up. she knew that her daddy was going to be less than pleased.

jimmy was indulgent, and he rarely said no to her purchases, no matter how frivolous. but, she promised that she would always spend within reasonable limits, nothing that would alert his bank or anything along those lines. except this time, she did.

it wasn’t anything major, maybe a hundred dollars or two on an hermés handbag. not one of those wild birkin or kelly bags, but something simpler. colorful, vibrant, bold, just like her. but, then, she saw their pretty lipsticks, which were already part of the original purchase plans. it was really the bag that was what tipped that spending over.

now, she was on her knees in front of jimmy, eyes wide with tears as she tried to explain and apologize to him for overspending…relatively egregiously. his eyes, typically kind and impish and glowing with lighthearted energy, were stern. and in her worldview, that was the same as him being angry, even though in her heart of hearts, he wasn’t.

mostly, it had to do with her being punished.

“babygirl,” he said, looming over her and stroking her face, “you know you disobeyed me, right?” she could only nod as he forcefully tugged her hair to affix her gaze onto him.

tears pricked her eyes as she tried to fervently nod, “yes, daddy. but—”

“but what?” jimmy raised his brow, amused that she was trying to weasel her way out of it.

her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes doe-eyed and crackling with unshed tears, “i was good. i only spent just a little bit above budget. i didn’t get anything crazy big. i didn’t even get a birkin! i just got a pretty baby bag.”

the response made jimmy falter in his actions, just enough to release a hearty chuckle; he seemed to actually take her comment into consideration, given her circle of friends (who she loved) and what they posted from their own hauls. the biggest offender? seth’s sugar baby, who managed a special order kelly ii sellier 32 in purple crocodile leather. she didn’t want to know how much it actually cost.

jimmy’s voice returned into a more pondering tone, “well, that’s true, isn’t it? you only went a few hundred above your allowance, and you got something that would make us both very happy.” she preened as he stroked her cheeks, brushing some of the stray tears away. “i suppose since you didn’t break the rules by that much, i’ll let you off easy, pretty girl.”

her eyes glowed in hopeful joy—however, it was sharply cut off and her light dimmed when he intoned, “though, that doesn’t mean you won’t be punished, babygirl.”

despite her wide, crestfallen eyes, she still nodded. “i understand,” she cried, trying to hold back her tears; he wiped some of them away before he pulled her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist with her back to his chest. wet giggles emerged from her lips as he tickled her, his voice jovial to cheer her up.

“there we go, no more tears,” he cooed, kissing the shell of her ear before surreptitiously spreading her legs even wider to expose her soaked panties to him underneath her dress. what he brought out next was to her whimpering surprise. “this is your punishment, babygirl. you’re gonna wear this all day, alright? gotta keep calm all day, and then i’ll take it out tonight.”

she nodded, letting him slip the bullet vibrator inside her clenching, tight walls, writhing in his lap at the intrusion. he tapped her thigh to steady her before readjusting her panties and dress. it was only then that her eyes flickered to the remote resting on the couch cushion.

she sighed. this was going to be a long day.

the first two hours started relatively innocently enough. jimmy kept the vibrator at relatively low volumes as he drove her around to a few boutiques, and even got her brunch from one of her favorite places, where the hollandaise sauce had just the right amount of paprika and the mimosas weren’t half bad. there were only a few surprise changes in pace, namely when she was about to go try on the clothes, and right when she was about to enter the restroom. at least those two instances, she climaxed in relative privacy, her noises quiet and expression composed when she returned to society.

and then came the third hour.

it was about time for her nail appointment, something maintained every three weeks or so given how bold her nails tended to be. she liked them pointed, sharp, and bold. the only thing that tended to involve hours of work to accomplish the intricacies of what she wanted within two hours or so.

honestly, she was grateful for her technician, hannah, for having the patience to listen to her exuberant ideas to tame into something within accomplishable parameters. not that jimmy would mind paying extra for it, though she knew she was fucked when jimmy told hannah to indulge in her creative whimsy.

he wouldn’t be doing this unless he wanted her squirming.

and she really was trying to stay as still as possible, given the immensity and the elaborate nature of this design—3d elements, chrome, charms, chains. no expense was spared in this one, which made it even worse when she felt the violent pulsations of the toy that would have caused her to spasm on the floor in a violent climax if it was just them. except it wasn’t.

hannah gave her a sympathetic smile as she wriggled in the chair; she whimpered a bit under her breath. she lied—she had to, given jimmy’s deceptively sweet smile that carried all the venom and bite that demanded her to be a good girl and not cum. her excuse was that she was on her period, and that was enough.

and then the vibrations escalated.

her teeth gritted; her hands quivered; her pussy gushed. jimmy smiled ferally when she craned her head in his direction. at least her hands were in the uv lamp, so hannah had little struggle with trying to keep her steady to work on the next layer. however, the moment she had to stay still so hannah could add the chrome lines for the marble design on her index nails, she couldn’t. she really fucking couldn’t.

“honey, you have to stay still, i know you’re hurting,” hannah’s voice rang, sympathetic and steadying her trembling hands, “i’m almost done, i promise.”

maybe she was a masochist, a glutton for punishment. or, perhaps, she was just determined to show daddy how good she was, how well she wore her punishment. so, she endured. she endured it for what felt like eons (it was really another forty-five minutes, though she inherited some of her daddy’s dramatics).

she whimpered as the buzzing continued, her core red-hot and her mind praying that she didn’t leave a stain on her clothes from the amount of times she had been holding back her orgasm. daddy hadn’t let her, after all.

or hannah’s chair.

“c’mon, babygirl,” jimmy urged as he drove them back to his house in the city. one hand was on the wheel, and the other was on the remote, and he had already maxed that out. her poor pussy was screeching simultaneously with too much stimulation, yet not enough. her entire body convulsed as she lied across the backseats, skirt flared up and panties in his pocket. his voice emerged in a devilish drawl, “you can beg better than that.”

she panted and moaned feverishly, an arm over her eyes as she writhed, “daddy, please! please, needa cum so so bad!” tears streamed down her cheeks, her free hand moving to grip the console compartment in a feeble attempt to have some physical comfort. and also for him to admire the handwork done on her fingernails, but that was secondary to the fact that she wanted his hand while bawling her eyes out from the onslaught of sensation.

fortunately, he granted her the mercy, placing his hand over hers, careening the car delicately into a parking lot, turning the engine off, but keeping the air conditioning on. tilting his seat all the way back, he patted his lap. “c’mere.”

she eagerly clambered onto him, smashing their lips together in a feverish amalgam of teeth and tongue. her moans vibrated against his lips; her hips canted and thumped in the air. “daddy,” she bawled, salty tears streaking her cheeks as she burrowed her face into his chest, staining his shirt, “please, it hurts! please let me cum!”

she supposed he took some modicum of pity on her, stroking her hair with one hand and the other hand fidgeting with the remote settings. “alright, babygirl,” he said, shifting her hips to rest right on top of his crotch, “cum for me.”

the release and euphoria was inexplicable, a splattering mess of her hips wildly rutting and bucking to spray her mess all over jimmy’s lap, sobbing in relief as she thanked him through blubbery tears and heaving pants. “that’s it,” his voice trailed in fascinated delight, “give it to me—make a big fucking mess for me. such a good girl you are.”

his voice continued to ring in her ear as he dragged her down onto her knees, pressing her nose to his crotch while her cunt drooled and dripped onto the car’s floor. his movements carried a haze as he rushed to unbutton his pants rapidly enough to stroke himself.

“daddy,” she whined, expression pouty, eyes wide with unshed tears. her nose rested against his sac, and her tongue lapped at the base of his shaft, lacking the wherewithal to say much else.

jimmy’s eyes bored into hers with lust and fondness as one hand cupped her face, forcing her to keep her mouth agape just so, his length tapping against her cheeks to urge her to suck. her tongue lolled around the tip, swirling around it and licking wantonly as he used her, spewing complete and utter filth into her ears that she couldn’t really hear from how blissed out her expression was. her prettily done nails dug into his wrist, the rivulets pointed and sharp and jagged.

the only thing she could really register was the feeling of heat on her face, salt defining her features with the dripping of his seed onto her face. she registered moaning as his essence smeared on her face, painting her skin pearly white and eking down her cheeks and onto her nails.

the car ebbed in silence—daddy’s voice broached it. his gaze settled on hers in a predatory, satiated way.

“what do you say to me?”

her nails dug into his thighs; her eyes blearily settled on his with a wet smile.

“thank you, daddy.”

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @geekinstilettos . @pr0wlerpunk . @miss-kuki-nz

[minteagalaxea]

roman being unhinged: 💦 edition

[minteagalaxea]

jelly coffin | jy. uso

jey uso . sucrose/dextrose series

genre: smut (minors dni) . some plot content warnings: wall/window sex . exhibitionism (?) . mild dollification . daddy kink . creampie . manhandling . age gap (reader is in early twenties) . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . unprotected sex (please use protection) . reader is kind of a bimbo (but cute) . implied mirror sex word count: 1.82k inspiration: jey as whc . my mom as a nail tech . press on nails . floor-to-ceiling windows . a post made in the whorehouse songs: "skin" by rihanna (x) . "unholy x taste" by sam smith x stray kids (x) read also: "matte stiletto" (x) . "magnetic almond" (x) note: thank you so so much always @spiicii for helping soundboard, that one post someone made and @lov3rla03 endorsing it. this is kinda fun and different to explore for my writing, but i'm excited! also so sorry i've been having a lot of mental fog, so this might not be some of my best work, but i really had fun writing it!

coffin nails taper from the base and squared off at the top to resemble its namesake, with straighter edges than its ballerina sister shape. they tend to look best at a medium or long length, and generally require an extension to strengthen the natural nail. this shape is great for elaborate designs due to the extra surface area presented.

jelly polishes have a translucent finish, appearing almost wet. it is often likened to lip gloss with its high shine and reflective finish. it can be layered underneath magnetic polish to create a “jelly cat eye”, or as the top coat over magnetic polish to create the increasingly trendy “glass cat eye” nail.

jey adored financing her nail appointments. that was one of the first things he wanted to do, even before they inked the contract and what forms of monetary support he would offer. he said that he loved the feeling of her nails on his skin when they first met. she had been attempting to do it herself for so long that it was a struggle. the first thing he did when she revealed that was to start paying for her appointments. every three weeks, like clockwork.

he tended to pick the designs, or at the very least, the colors. he liked it long on her, dainty and bubbly and fragile in ways that accented that. nudes that made her complexion glow, little pearls and rhinestones that sparkled just so under the sunlight. he liked it that way, he adored the elongated shape of her fingers and the ridges of the corners and the length that made her the prettiest little doll for him to play with. jey especially loved how those nails would dig and leave gentle rivulets into his biceps, working around to press into tight patterns of ink.

she loved watching him wrestle, seeing her daddy in all of his strength as he dominated the ring with his moves or his words. he left her in awe of his ability to connect with the crowd, hearing them yell his catchphrase like it was an invocation of greatness. she often watched from the safety of his dressing room, mostly because those noises tended to make her squirm and left her nerves tingling in all the wrong ways.

and, well, also because her daddy didn’t want to ruin her soft-toned outfits, dresses, and nails with the bustle of the crowd and all the chaos that tended to occur. “can’t have my little princess getting her nails dirty when she dresses up all nice for daddy now, can i?” he often told her, and she was often inclined to agree with him.

in any case, that sense of agreeance meant that she got to watch him at wrestlemania in a beautiful suite, getting to see the glitz and glamour of las vegas. she got to cheer her lungs out when he beat gunther with his own repertoire of moves. she was positive that she was louder than everyone in the booth, but nobody could blame her. her daddy just won, and he deserved a celebration of epic proportions, especially given the location.

las vegas always carried a certain air to it outside of the typical sex, sweat, and sin. yet, it also carried some type of magic as jey lifted her through the threshold of the hotel room. he barely got to shut the door before he unzipped her dress—a soft white silk that hugged her curvature right and brushed the middle of her thighs. she shivered as he maneuvered her to the floor-to-ceiling window the suite had, goosebumps prickling along her skin as jey rested her breasts against the cold glass.

he placed her hands above her head, fingers brushing the silk ribbons she tied around each wrist into a bow. “such a pretty little present for me,” he murmured, the tips of his fingers skating along her spine enticingly, “so cute and soft.”

“do you like my nails, daddy?” she preened, resisting the urge to arch back into him when he applied his chest to their back. she heard his groan as he saw the reflection of her nails in the glass. in the hazy reflective quality of the glass, she saw how his eyes lingered too long on the translucent nude mauve polish adorning her fingers with the delicate lines of chrome. each turn had it reflecting beautifully in the warm lamplight and cool cityscape.

she knew her nail technician did a fabulous job with the way jey moaned, rubbing his clothed length up her bare ass. she knew better than to move. daddy loved her in those tall heels, but she knew she should let him do the work; he always made sure she was extra floaty and soft to where her legs shook from how hard he railed her.

her nails were a glossy brown-pink, extending her nails to beautiful lengths and hands to precious uselessness. he liked it that way—making sure she couldn’t do anything without him. she liked it that way, too. she adored when jey maneuvered her as he saw fit.

she mewled when she felt him sliding that hard length of his against her dripping slit. “shit,” he groaned with agonizing want as he tapped it against her sensitive clit, “how long have you been this fucking wet for me, baby?”

her voice was dreamy as she moaned, pristinely suspended against the glass, “since the show, daddy. since i saw you win the title.”

through the foggy reflection of glass, she saw his smirk at his ability to reduce her to a sopping mess with just a belt; that belt glinted against the warm, minimal lighting of the hotel suite. yet, her attention came back to jey when he smacked her pussy lips with his heavy shaft again, the lewd sound earning a moan from her, a silent demand to do it again and again.

“you want daddy to fuck you, baby?” he rasped in her ear, making her shiver and squirm. he smacked her ass to keep her still, and she obeyed and followed.

she moaned with need, her slick dripping all over his shaft and tip in a drooling mess, “please, daddy. please use me!”

she didn’t have to look in the mirror to see that feral smirk, the smirk earned after making the ring general himself tap out. she had said exactly what he wanted to hear, and jey was going to reward her for it. generously, she considered, as his fat tip breached past her sopping slit.

“fuck,” they moaned in unison, jey’s grip on her wrists punishing and reducing her vocabulary to an amalgam of wanton preens and squeals, his body pressing her deeper into the frigid glass and pebbling her nipples. and it was certainly a herculean task attempting to stay that precious doll-like still he craved, given she was wearing his favorite stilettos that always left her precariously on the edge of pleasure and pain.

jey growled as she mewled hungrily, gummy walls overflowing with slick that continued to spurt and gush and squelch with each of his thrusts inward. “oh, you’re so fucking deep, daddy,” she crowed in lascivious fashion, so fucking needy for him after seeing him do what he did best in the ring.

he was cocky in his response—he had every right to be, even before this win. he chose to build this relationship with her, spoiled her the way only he could, with pretty jewelry, credit cards, romantic gestures, and mind-blowing sex. he was definitely more understanding, more adoring than most men in her life. he let her mind wander and float, and didn't seem to mind her innumerable moments of airheadedness. he just got her to still, to focus that attention on where it was relevant.

him.

“c’mon, baby,” he grunted between heavy thrusts, “want my babydoll to make a mess, you can do that, right?” she couldn’t even formulate a proper response, the tip of his length brutalizing her insides with relish.

a garbled sound of confirmation scratched past her lips as he touched her inside just right that had her screaming. her breath fogged the window and her gushing release stained the glass with wild fervor, much to his satisfaction. “that’s it,” jey growled with carnal delight, continuing those feverish, visceral rutting until he burst.

“shit!” she cried, her knees buckling and trembling in those unwieldy stiletto heels and her equally unwieldy nails scrabbling for any purchase she could as he filled her up. deeply, wholly, primally. he growled when he stuffed her full of cum and warmed her insides with heat.

jey maintained pressing her up into the window as he settled, giving her doting kisses to the back of her head with each stuttering piston, praise heavy in his soft mouth. “such a pretty doll for me. all mine.”

“all yours, daddy,” she murmured back in echo, head floaty and dazed when he pulled out of her cunt, some of their combined releases trickling down her thighs and onto the floor. in that same vein, she barely registered how he effortlessly lifted her into his arms to drag her to the lavish, lush mattress, placing her in between his legs with her own widely spread. she looked at their reflections in the massive mirror—how her exposed pussy dripped with cum and still eked more like it always did with him. he loved her that way, all soft and leaking and sugary with want. his behemoth hands rubbed circles on her abdomen, lips affixed to her hands and fingers with obsession. she couldn’t deny him that, given that the nails were mostly for his benefit.

his voice rasped in her ear, eyes meeting hers through the mirror, “i got you something, babydoll.”

a gasp fell from her lips in utmost awe when he let go of her wrists, letting her limbs softly plop to the bed before presenting it with a wrap around her neck. “i thought you deserved something beautiful to match my belt, yeah? for being the most perfect babydoll in the world.”

a choker. cartier. custom-ordered. diamond encrusted. expensive. and stunning.

her eyes were teary as she cooed, “thank you, daddy! it’s so so pretty! thank you, thank you, thank you!”

his smile was warm and doting, content to spoil her as he admired the new jewelry on her neck. “i’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” jey crooned, voice dripping like honey when he kissed her on the lips, “now, pretty girl, all i want you to do is focus on the mirror while daddy fucks you again. touch your clit how i like it. wanna see you all pretty and white and soft for me.”

the centerpiece of it all—the real one—was her nails. she daintily pressed those coffin nails to her clit, preciously still as he slid himself back into her depths, with the sweetest, sated smile.

“yes, daddy.”

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @geekinstilettos . @pr0wlerpunk . @miss-kuki-nz

[minteagalaxea]

mother omg thank you 🥺

tagging: @miss-kuki-nz @crzydemona @nyxipixy @spiicii @acute-crashout-jeyuso

 A friend threatened me to repost so I will!

Basically, there r tons of fake asses on tumblr who just want comments and followers, so someone started this to see who's actually a good friend. Everyone I tag better repost (and tag other people and preferably threaten them in a creative way as well) bc I'm high on caffeine and newfound lesbianism and will resort to violence.

@ey-theys-was-coronas

@fangirlhehe

I would tag more people but they're the only ones I've really interacted with-

[minteagalaxea]

seelie | jy. uso

jey uso . breakers series

genre: smut (minors dni) . modicum of plot content warnings: public sex . unprotected sex (please use protection) . creampie . afab reader (they/them pronouns) . implied age gap (reader is in their early twenties/college) word count: 1.1k inspiration: jey winning world heavyweight champion . cinderella . jey's new neck tattoo . spring break . me being on spring break . fairies songs: "full house" by mobb (x) . "backstage romance" by moulin rouge! the musical (x) read also: "siren" (x) . "serpent" (x) note: thank you so so much for everyone who has been following along with this little miniseries! wanted to give a big shoutout to @spiicii for literally riding it out with me and keeping me motivated! i've been not in the best headspace, but hopefully this helps! also thank you to @lov3rla03 for the shenans over in the whorehouse for helping me get through this.

maybe this was a mistake.

keyword: maybe.

they weren’t quite like their best friends when it came to matters of romance, who were feral and cerebral, respectively. they loved those two, the perfect contrast to one another.

yet, they were the one who paired off first. all because of a stupid neck tattoo.

they were pretty sure it was done recently, the black ink vibrant underneath the miami sun as the group entered the resort’s dayclub, and it was the first thing they saw. it didn’t matter who was wearing that piece, but they knew that was the thing they were going to chase.

they hadn’t expected him—jey—to welcome their compliments with charm and slip a glass of champagne into their hands and to whisk them away into his cabana like it was a fairytale romance. well, it would have been a fairytale romance if they were the nonbinary version of cinderella, he was a tatted-up prince charming, and the ball was a wild dayclub playing questionable edm during spring break.

so, the real mistake would be, then, that they let him inside of their depths in the middle of the ball. so maybe, this was their version of dancing as he turned them both onto their sides, the weight of his hand heavy on their cunt as he stroked their petals. enough to get them squirming and writhing for his cock amidst the tandem of whatever beat drop was happening and the bodies of everyone else doing the same shit, ostensibly. any direction, and someone was getting railed—in the cabanas, the pool. it was the greatest free for all of the spring break shenanigans they had ever encountered throughout their collegiate career.

yet, there was a charm to it, though they wanted to think it had more to do with the fact that their friends were doing the same damn thing as they were doing. evidently, jey’s twin matched exactly the level of freak as her history major best friend, with how hard he was railing her. they turned to the other side to find that their other friend was engaging in something with his cousin.

his hips were assured as he pressed his forehead against theirs, their right leg hiked up against his thigh to give him better access to their walls as their foreheads touched. “you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” jey groaned against their soft mouth as his hips pistoned in a measured pace. he swallowed those noises as they moved, the rhythm something grounding and mythical.

in between the fervent, heady kisses, they murmured into his mouth, “you’re so good to me, jey. so fucking deep inside.”

they weren’t lying—he touched their depths in unimaginable ways, ways that soothed the aches and pains of their body as he kept his thrusts measured, purposeful, yet voracious. his tongue slipped into their mouth in a sensuous tango, a conversation more than a conquest.

it numbed their mind in all the ways they didn’t realize was liberating. there weren’t any thoughts of school, of integrals and matrices, of whatever stupid drama from their student organizations that left them reeling like maybe they were cinderella, and everything else in life was the wicked stepmother and stepsisters.

the suggestion, then, was when midnight would strike. would they linger? how much of this was meant to be a fairytale? they weren’t sure, and they weren’t sure if they wanted to know just yet as the tip of jey’s cock kissed that perfect spot inside them that erased any doubt, any concerns for the moment ebbing as he continued.

his name spilled from their lips over and over, each thrust rattling everything to their core. their breaths emerged in fervent pants as jey stared at them with a certain sense of awe, of reverence, of addiction. there was no other way for them to describe that feeling as he devoured every sound made with fervor. he groaned when they pressed their lips up against that new neck tattoo, practically licking the ink off of it if they could. that action always pressed their body up into his, their chests melding and jey’s cock so so deep inside that the angle made it even deeper, made it feel so so deep that there was no way they weren’t dreaming.

“baby, you’re like a fucking angel. sent down here just for me.”

“crazy talk,” they mumbled against his lips, body seizing up in a climax as his tip stabbed just right inside of them to propel them to a climax. that sound was airy, a stutter of absolute pleasure as they arched their frame into him, their walls pulsating in harmony to whatever song was playing off the club’s numerous speakers.

“baby, those walls of yours are like some fairy wings or something,” he gritted out as his hips stilled to deposit his load into their sweet, fluttering depths. it was full, it was warm, and that felt more like the stroke of midnight than maybe the end of a long, semi-romantic fuck.

they couldn’t leave—not with how jey held close onto them like a vine. his eyes were heavy with need for them, like they were the blessing he had been praying and searching for. he held them close as the song transitioned, length staying inside as he continued rocking into them, pushing his seed deeper and deeper into them like he wanted a part of him to remain in them.

“my little fairy,” jey mused with awe, as if he was seeing them for the first time beyond what led them into the cabana. their hips rocked into his, their lashes fluttering against his cheeks. their lips remained affixed to his neck, suckling marks on one side and paying reverence and worship to the freshly inked side.

“look at those pretty wings of yours,” he teased, pressing his lips to the side of their eye, brushing close to their lashes. their cheeks warmed at the gesture, snuggling close as their breaths mingled, their mimosa tangling with his bourbon.

“jey,” they breathed. it was the only word they could say as they stayed, long after the proverbial stroke of midnight and the music escalated and so did everyone else. their walls pulsed and beat like the wings of a fae.

“just stay with me, my little angel. stay all week long.” it sounded like a prayer to a creature they definitely weren’t, but cursed their little soft romantic heart and the softness of his eyes. he kissed them over and over, trying to imprint the taste of them on his lips as their tongues conversed again, dancing in candied delight and coquettish deviousness. it was less of that stupid cinderella tale they thought as jey drank them in, hardening once more at those soft contractions of their nether, rocking to have them mewl and preen under the miami sun.

they would stay. fairies loved lost things, after all. and there weren’t conditions like cinderella’s ball when they were the fairy godmother.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @geekinstilettos . @pr0wlerpunk . 

[minteagalaxea]

jey uso / world heavyweight champion

x fem!reader word count → 1.5k summary → now on top of the world, jey should be focused on celebrating his new world title. instead, he’s only focused on you.  notes → just a little one-shot to celebrate our new world heavyweight champion! i wrote this in advance because i never doubted my boy for a second. he proved all the haters and doubters wrong, just like we knew he would.  links → masterlist / taglist  tags → literally just pwp, unprotected piv sex, dirty talk

Jey was supposed to be at the afterparty. 

Too many people had paid good money to be there, all hoping for a chance to celebrate with their new World Heavyweight Champion. 

Instead, he was shoving you against the bathroom wall, his breath hot in your ear. “Been waitin’ to fuck you all night, ma.” He rumbled, already hiking up your dress. “Can’t get you outta my head.” 

You let out a breathless laugh, clinging tightly to his suit jacket as he ripped your panties away and tossed them to the side. 

“You thinking about me instead of that damn championship?” You couldn’t keep the incredulity out of your voice, your eyelids fluttering as Jey’s hand moved roughly between your legs. 

“You all I can think about, girl.” He murmured, lifting you up off the floor and holding you in his arms with ease. “Just wanted to win so I could leave the ring and come find you.” 

“Why you lyin’?” You tried to add some bite to your words, but they came out shaky as Jey’s cock nudged at your entrance. 

“I ain’t lyin’.” Jey hand reached up to close around your throat, still keeping you suspended in the air, your toes barely touching the floor. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about this tight little pussy of yours. Got me under some kind of spell, ma.” 

You had a clever response on the tip of your tongue though it quickly died on your lips as Jey pushed his cock into you, the feeling of fullness causing you to let out a moan. 

“Fuck, how you still this tight?” Jey’s voice was thick with lust. “Didn’t I just fuck you this morning?” 

“Jey.” His name came out a small whine, your eyes rolling back into your head as he began to shallowly thrust up into you. You squirmed in his arms and his grip around your throat tightened. 

“Be still,” he snarled, his hips beginning to pick up the pace as he pounded into you. “You want this dick or not?” 

You nodded as best you could with his hand around your throat. He was always so cocky after a win, but this felt different. This wasn’t like when he won the tag team titles with his brother. Hell, this wasn’t like when he won the Intercontinental title. This was a different kind of win. He wasn’t just any champion now. He was a world champion. 

You could see the massive belt glittering out of the corner of your eye. Jey had been quick to throw it on the bathroom counter before shoving you up against the wall, his hands rough and greedy. 

“Yeah, you like that shit?” Jey hadn’t missed the way you were glancing at his new title, his face twisted into an arrogant smirk. “Like getting railed by the world champion, don’t you, baby?” 

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment and Jey chuckled, moving his long fingers up to grab your jaw. He crashed your lips together in a messy kiss. His hips never faltered as he continued to hammer into you. Your feet were fully off the floor now, your pussy spasming helplessly as he kept you suspended in the air. 

“I can feel you, ma,” Jey murmured, his eyes dark as he stared at you. “Can feel you squeezing my shit. You like it when Daddy fucks you like this?” 

“Jey, please.” It was all too much. His words, combined with the brutal way he was thrusting into you, had pleasure overtaking you like a tidal wave. This wasn’t your usual, sweet Jey. This man was fucking you like he was entitled to it, his face almost smug as he watched you tremble in his arms. 

You let out a loud moan and Jey’s hand was suddenly over your mouth, his fingers digging into your cheek. 

“You gon’ get us caught, little girl.” He warned, though he didn’t seem angry. In fact, he seemed amused, as if he wouldn’t mind someone barging in and catching the new world champion fucking his girl against the bathroom wall.

His fingers nudged at your lips and you opened your mouth obediently for him, allowing him to fuck his fingers down your throat. 

“Damn, you’d just let me do whatever I want to you, huh?” Jey’s words were mocking, his hips somehow picking up speed as he drilled into you. You were amazed at how easily he held you up, not even a little bit tired from how long he’d been holding you. “You’d just take whatever I give you and beg me for more, wouldn’t you, baby?” 

He removed his fingers from your mouth, that infuriating smirk still on his lips. It’d piss you off if it wasn’t so fucking hot. 

You hated how much arrogance suited him. 

“So fucking pretty, mamas,” he whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your neck. “You take me so good. This pussy was made fo’ me, wasn’t it?” 

“Jey,” Your voice was barely a whisper, your thoughts fizzling out as pleasure began to overtake all your other senses. You couldn’t think of anything but him. Him and his massive cock splitting you open. 

Jey shifted the angle of his hips and you nearly screamed, Jey’s hand covering your mouth again to muffle the sound. 

“I know, I know,” he chuckled, now aiming for your g-spot with devastating accuracy. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, slut?” 

You wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Jey huffed out another laugh at your desperation, his Cuban link glittering almost as beautifully as the belt you couldn’t stop staring at. The champion smirked again. God, why was it so hot? 

Your entire body was shaking now. You were close. So tantalizingly close. 

“Daddy, please,” you gasped, your hands curling in the soft fabric of his jacket. “Please, can I come? Please?” 

“You sing so sweet for me, honey,” he cooed, his hand back on your throat in an easy dominance. “Go ahead, baby. Come on this dick.” 

Your vision went white, your entire body shaking as you came. Jey’s cursed as your velvety walls spasmed and fluttered around him, still greedily sucking him in. 

“God, you look so fucking pretty when you come.” His voice was breathless now, his control unraveling as he chased his own pleasure. “So fucking perfect.” 

You could barely hear him, still struggling to keep your eyes open as the pleasure washed over you. Jey’s grip on your neck tightened, his hips stuttering against you as he got closer and closer to his own release. His breath was hot against your lips, his forehead pressed against yours. 

“Shit!” 

You felt him spill inside you, a new warmth spreading inside you as he painted your walls white. You let out a satisfied hum at the feeling, spots dancing across your vision from how hard he was gripping your throat. You spread your legs wider on instinct to take as much of him as you could even as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes from the feeling. You wanted everything he had to offer. You wanted all of him. 

The room was silent now, the two of you breathing heavily as you both came down from your respective highs. Jey finally released your throat, reaching up to cup your cheek instead. 

“You alright, baby?” His voice was gravelly and deep, his dark eyes concerned as he stared at you. 

“I’m good.” You whispered, smiling as he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips. 

Your breath hitched when he finally pulled out of you, shivering as some of his come dribbled out of your still twitching hole and down your inner thigh. Jey pressed another kiss to your cheek as he carried you to the bathroom counter, setting you on the cool marble counter beside his championship belt. 

You watched as he cleaned you up. His hands gentle, his lips soft as he pressed kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find. 

You couldn’t help but reach out to touch the Heavyweight belt beside you. The metal was cool to the touch, the side plates with his name glinting in the light. 

“I’m so proud of you,” you told him, meeting his gaze with adoration. “You deserve this.” 

Jey’s face broke into a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with joy. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him this happy. “You too sweet to me, baby.” He murmured, moving between your legs to keep you pressed against the bathroom counter. You giggled when he started peppering your face with kisses. 

“Stop! We gotta go back to the party.” 

“Nah, let’s go another round.” 

“Jey!” 

It took some convincing, but you finally managed to drag him out of the bathroom. And when you finally returned to the party, he kept you on his lap all night, his hand curling possessively on your upper thigh.

You weren’t surprised that he was just as ravenous for you when the party finally ended, his mouth on yours the second the hotel room door shut behind you. And so what if you asked him to fuck you wearing nothing but the belt? It wasn’t every day you got to fuck a world champion. 

_____

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

[minteagalaxea]

serpent | r. reigns

roman reigns . breakers series

genre: smut (minors dni) . modicum of plot content warnings: mutual masturbation . cockwarming (oral) . public sex . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . implied age gap (reader is in early twenties/college) . word count: 1.35k inspiration: glucose guardians . people-watching . spring break . press-on/gel x nails . cat-eye nail polish songs: "lust" by felip ft. cyra gwynth (x) . "pour up" by dean ft. zico (x) read also: "siren" (x) . "seelie" (x) note: sorry for taking so long, but i managed to get part two of the series done! thank you again to @spiicii for always keeping me accountable to writing and soundboarding, and @lov3rla03 and all the whorehouse confessions and shenanigans. love you always 🩶

“that guy over there,” she asked on the upstroke, her nimble fingers poised perfectly around his length, perfectly wrapped around him, “why exactly is he wearing leopard print swim trunks? and…is he australian?”

roman looked at her with amused eyes as he adjusted his arm around her waist, two of his thick digits inside of her inviting cunt, scissoring her walls with languid intent and drawing out honeyed contralto moans from her lips.

“it’s the leopard print that’s getting to me.” he elicited a guttural grunt when her thumb swiped over the tip of his cock, and she smiled as she curled into him as they spectated.

she tried to stifle her laughter seeing one of her best friends get absolutely railed by one of roman’s cousins like her life absolutely depended on it (at this point, it probably was). “what’s going on in that head of yours, little doll?” he rasped, driving the heel of his palm into her clit as she readjusted herself to better rest on his chest.

“just…us. our group. how we managed to somehow get paired off so well, didn’t we?” she mused, craning her head to see her other friend with their matched pair, the other twin, spooning and getting so adorably fucked it would have made her bark out in fond laughter in her friend’s face.

she wanted to think it was happenstance that she and her two friends were going to somehow pair off with three men in a group of their own during spring break in miami. hell, she hadn’t intended to get fucked during spring break, and yet, here she was.

technically, she wasn’t getting fucked, but the premise stood.

roman’s eyes were heavy on her as she continued to observe, eyes scrutinizing every detail she could about the others at the dayclub. she wasn’t trying to judge. she found it fascinating—how humans behaved, how humans were. his voice was gentle as he asked, “what brings a girl like you out here? you don’t strike me as the type to be out here getting fingered. or as a type to be doing casual flings like this.”

her lashes flitted and fluttered with each blink, a challenge in her eyes as she considered the observation. “it’s not that i don’t mind a fling, rather…i don’t have time for people that can’t keep up.”

“keep up?”

“intellectually. the brain is considered the sexiest organ.”

“and you think so literally?” his hand never ceased their movements inside of her, making her gasp into his mouth as he looked down and kissed her carefully, in case she didn’t want it.

luckily, she did.

“if i didn’t, then i wouldn’t be with you, would i?” her voice was tender, curious even as the tip of her glossy nails against his tip with purpose.

“tell me about those nails of yours,” roman brought up with a careful groan as the almond tip of her nails brushed the vein on the underside of his cock, the glossy finish and edged rhinestones presenting a welcoming contrast.

“they’re there—i like having them. keeps me calm, keeps me focused.” she got her nails done rather routinely, a soft cat-eye nude with some rhinestones that seemed rather contradictory to the edge she had relative to her friends. she heard it enough times from others; how someone as cerebral as her could wear something as dainty as that. she thought coexistence suited her find—others couldn’t reconcile with it.

yet, roman pressed his lips to hers in a certain, decisive sort of kiss that spoke more than words. he offered them anyway, “they suit you. soft, but strong. sweet and deadly.”

her eyes sparked in that way that had her body arching into him as they kissed, tongues tangling in a sort of conversation as he slipped in a third finger, that thickness creating a beautiful stretch inside her gummy walls as his thumb joined along, rubbing that sensitive nub of hers towards completion.

“your tattoos suit you, too,” she offered against his beard as her lips traced there. her hand worked faster to push him to the brink, though the pace faltered when she saw something that made her laugh against the softness of his beard in between a punctuated moan as she rode his hand.

he peered down at her with a strange sense of fondness, hiking her up so she rested more into his side. “what’s got you laughing, babygirl?”

her free hand pointed to another couple, not her friends with roman’s cousins. the man was older, with a partner younger than him, how she was to roman. she sat gilded in opulent jewelry and sipped expensive champagne.

“they’re like us,” she mused fondly, “maybe a bit different. but us.”

roman’s voice emerged in a deep chuckle as he kissed her forehead, “maybe, but i’m not your sugar daddy, and you don’t seem to need one.”

“is companionship not enough for you?” her breath fanned against his mouth, lips tasting of white nectarines and lychee to mingle with the warmth of his own as their tongues tangled.

“maybe, if it’s you.” his smile held warmth as he crooked his fingers just right against that precious spot of hers and had her creaming all along his hand and nearly dripping down his wrist. in turn, she worked him harder, his words encouraging her to stroke him to that precipice as her eyes remained transfixed on how he cleaned her nectar off with relish. he acted like she was sweeter than the wine they were drinking, the lychee lip balm he kissed off.

“c’mon, roman,” she crooned airily, shifting her nails so that the tips of them could graze at his balls, moving to kiss him more fully. her other hand brushed his beard, uncharacteristically soft as she kept him affixed onto her as he spilled into her hand, coating every inch of her hand and nails with pearlescent ribbons.

her hand emerged from his trunks sticky and creamy, but what really did roman under was watching their tongue dart out in lithe, wispy motions to lap and clean his seed off her appendages, eyes crinkling into mirthful crescents. “shit, baby,” he rasped as she finished, eyes lingering on the way her nails sparkled in the sunlight, reflecting like glass with each rotation of her hand to get at every drop, “that’s so fucking hot and cute.”

her lips curled upward as she leaned down to kiss him again, tasting one another’s flavor as their tongues mingled in harmony, “well, i certainly try.” her eyes roamed down at a sedate pace, her head tilting to the side to ponder the possibilities of what happened next.

“want me to clean you up?” she offered, slithering downward to lay with her head on his thigh.

his eyes met hers with diamond-like clarity when he stroked her hair, pensive in his expression before he acquiesced, pulling down his swim trunks enough for her to wrap her lips around, tongue prodding to get at every crevice of him and every bit of his essence as she settled down to the hilt. roman groaned for her efforts, “shit, baby. so full of surprises, aren’t you?”

she stayed there for a while, basking in the spring sun and the chlorinated humidity of the dayclub as her eyes fell shut. she didn’t want to leave, not yet. roman obliged, seemingly wanting her to stay also, the cadence of his fingers running through her tresses and his hand—the hand that was inside of her cunt not even five minutes before—held the one she used to jack him off.

roman’s voice lulled her to rest, letting her doze as he started to make observations that she would make, a lullaby that eased her running mind.

“so, that couple you saw earlier? well, she’s sitting with a bunch of other women wearing stuff that’s similar. all that jewelry, all that champagne…like a glass castle.”

she hummed around his dick, and he understood exactly what she was conveying as he concluded, “no, baby, not quite like us, hmm?”

no, absolutely not like them.

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @geekinstilettos . @pr0wlerpunk . 

[minteagalaxea]

siren | jm. uso

jimmy uso . breakers series

genre: smut (minors dni) . a modicum of plot content warnings: unprotected sex (please use protection) . exhibitionism . daddy kink . squirting . questionable dirty talk . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . implied age gap (reader is in college/early twenties) . cowgirl position . spanking word count: 1.73k inspiration: jimmy slapping gunther . jimmy at the beach (thank you naomi) . mermaids/sirens . spring break . me being on spring break (i graduated early!) songs: "back it up" by seventeen (x) . wave by seventeen (x) read also: "serpent" (x) . "seelie" (x) notes: thank you so much to @spiicii for helping me find the jimmy photos and inspo for the graphics. also thank you @lov3rla03 and the cumfessions for really making me lock it in 🩶

spring break meant a lot of things to a lot of people.

when she was a child, it meant family vacations to whatever spot her parents decided, bumbling around on unsteady feet and wide-eyed eagerness. when she reached adolescence, she still followed along, enjoying more of the scenery than she would ever care to admit.

and now that she was (mostly) an adult, it was having the absolute time of her damn life and savoring the ferocity of university stereotypes about partying and hooking up and drinking and being generally unhinged. and she decided that the best place to really live out the stereotypes of a college student (or, at least, her college) was the spring break capital for every party-loving university student—miami.

it started really at the resort’s dayclub she was staying at with her friends. she was skimpy to the extent of nonexistence, but it didn’t matter in the cabana as her hips swiveled atop the man’s clothed, hard length as his tongue swallowed her. she didn’t give a flying ass about who was watching—hell, if she turned to her left, she saw her best friend in the lap of the man’s friend, his hand slipping down their bikini shorts as they laughed at something or the other. on her right, her other friend was somewhat more tasteful, her head resting on the chest of the broadest of the three as they talked about something or the other, his hand stroking their thigh as they spectated the crowd of people making out or fucking around or in the pool. how the three of them managed to pair off with each of the three men that came in a group was beyond her, but she wasn’t going to complain.

but, that thought slipped away as the edm pounded to the beat of the spanks the man below her was meting out. her voice was a drunk, breathless sort of giggle as she moaned louder into his ear. “c’mon, babygirl, you gotta focus on me.” he sounded gravelly, a concoction of sugar and spice and everything sinful in existence.

“i am,” she countered, arching her ass back to take those spanks with delighted preens, “but i wanted to ask you something…”

“yeah, baby?”

her lips brushed his mouth again with a cheeky smile, “why are you called big jim?”

“you’re sitting on him, babygirl.”

“well, i’m not on him, jimmy. not yet, anyways.” her lips fell into a pout about it, about not having him in them yet, her impatience more apparent as they humped him more fervently.

“patience, baby, we got all day. all week even. ain’t that right?” jimmy’s lips curled into a carnal, feral smirk.

her pouting continued, earning them several more spanks as the song changed to some sort of house track. he didn’t stop them from pawing her nimble fingers into his trunks, letting them feel it for themselves. “oh,” she purred, “you are big, aren’t you, daddy?”

“you think i’d lie about that shit?” he retorted, nipping her bottom lip firmly as he maneuvered her thong aside to expose her cunt to his length, rubbing more insistently now.

“don’t wrestlers…stretch the truth a little bit?” she teased.

“i ain’t gonna lie to you about this, though, babygirl,” jimmy commented, voice low in her ear to make her shiver, “but, now that you say that, that makes me question whether or not i wanna let you sit on me.”

her voice grabbed to a coquettish, needy whine as she fought his firm, stilling grip to get her way, “please, daddy? my pussy’s hungry for you.”

“babygirl, your little cunt’s hungry for any dick. you’re on spring break.”

“don’t care right now, want your dick inside!” her voice came in a reedy whine, her need too hard to bear as she smeared all of her slickness onto him with each grind up and down, and it was enough for him to give in to her demands. he did, after another round of spanking to the beat drop of some house track.

when he sank her down, it wasn’t with any sense of gentility. not that she was expecting it to be gentle, that wasn’t her style right now anyways. that was her friend’s, the one with the big burly man with the long hair as his hand traced lower. and it wasn’t like her other friend, who was getting spoon-fucked as the guy’s hand (was it jimmy’s brother? she couldn’t remember, but she had to admit it was hot).

and the pace jimmy set was relentless, unforgiving as he made her bounce like her life fucking depended on it. okay, so maybe it did right now, with her insatiable hunger for hard, fast, and dirty as he pounded into her, balls slapping right up against her ass she rode him like a bull.

“shit, daddy, that’s so good.” her voice erupted into sultry moans and keens with each flex of her ass and each reverberating smack from gravity. jimmy’s hands gripped that shit like he fucking meant it, her sounds luring him in deeper and deeper into her orbit.

maybe it was a mutual thing, how his voice sunk her deeper into that ocean where nothing mattered except hedonistic pleasure. it was an easy pit to sink into now that there were any mental hurdles getting her way of it. jimmy’s voice certainly was great at evaporating all of that as he cooed seductively, “that’s it, babygirl. you’re not worrying about anything, are you? just focused on this dick filling you up nice and hard.”

it was like being underwater, her head dizzy and foggy with ecstasy. as if his voice was the only thing separating her from coming back up for air to face her reality of impending classes and office hours in that vicious cycle. jimmy was good at it, somehow punishing enough to have her sore for days, yet with enough care to let her feel every vein and ridge that defined his shaft. and she was focused. her friend with the long-haired man would definitely agree—hell, she’d probably tease her later that she could probably describe jimmy’s dick better than her paper on classical greek history and the concept of autonomy and freedom. that prospect made her moan even louder into his ear as her walls clenched around him hotly, especially when she adjusted her angle just right against his reclining figure on the chaise and he hit that spot just right to have her seeing stars.

“shit, babygirl, that’s the spot?” jimmy inquired with a sort of devious smirk as he shifted himself accordingly to keep hitting that spot in her cunt, “gonna get you splashing like a mermaid for daddy?”

“yes, daddy, don’t stop!” she cried into his ear, bouncing harder with more insistence while he pistoned his hips upward at a more palpable pace than earlier, breakneck and bruising as her sounds reached a staccato fervor and reedy pitch. her breasts rubbed up against his body, nipples hardened underneath her scantily-clad top. she knew he could feel it even before he pushed enough of her bikini off so he could have her flesh properly against his as her tongue tangled with his in a dirty kiss, a tango for dominance until she succumbed to him, letting him plunder her mouth.

jimmy’s voice snarled his grunts. his hips pummeled her insides even faster, keeping that angle as she gasped as her pussy fluttered, that spongy wall so so overwhelmed as she convulsed atop him, vibrating in delight.

“shit, babygirl, turning into a little mermaid on land?” his voice came out in a dark tease as he capitalized on her climax, on the tight heat of her clenching walls and her ecstatic cries.

“c’mon, daddy, make me one!” she squealed, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she collapsed onto his strong, inked body, letting him do all the work as her hips bucked off of his own and the chaise, “make me cum so fucking hard!”

“daddy’s got you, babygirl,” he assured with a carnal smirk at her debauched expression and assertion as she felt a hand traipse casually to her mound, pushing the front of her thong aside enough for his hand to rub at her neglected, swollen clit. his voice returned to her ear with honey and cognac on this tongue, a smile on his lips as he nibbled along her exposed neck, “how’d your pussy get even tighter for me, hmm?”

“‘cause my pussy loves your cock, daddy.” her answer wove that spell even deeper, even harder, and even heavier as he busted inside of her. shit, that feeling of being full of cock and cum was heavenly, and she truly missed it. except this was even better as he kept going, kept tapping that overworked clit of hers until he got what he wanted.

and what he wanted was that beautiful little waterfall, and she gave it to him in spades.

her lips curled into a euphoric smile as her walls splattered her essence all over his stomach, a fucked-out preen escaping past her lips as that ichor came out in riveting splashes like a mermaid surfacing to shore in the pool. “fuck, just like that!” she exclaimed with hedonistic glee, pornographic almost as he incited more of that precious nectar from her body with encouraging groans, splattering his abs with it until she collapsed onto his chest.

her breaths were labored, eyes foggy as she stewed in their mess as she felt how his seed was slowly dripping out of her sopping heat onto the chaise. in a lazy moment of boldness, she pressed her lips onto his just as the next song played, some raunchy heavy house track that she didn’t care too much about other than it made her veins thump and pussy flutter around jimmy’s dick like a butterfly.

“c’mon, babygirl,” he offered with that impish, charming smile of his, “let’s play mermaids for real now, hmm?” he effortlessly lifted her up off of the chaise and into the pool. when she turned to her left, she saw some couples engaging in the same behaviors she and her fling were about to. or, at least, some similar equivalent.

all she said, all she wanted to say, as the clear blue chlorinated waters enveloped them both was a tantalizing, “yes, daddy.”

taglist ⇢ @yana3sworld . @roseydoesypoesy . @acute-crashout-jeyuso . @fearlesschimera . @theusotwinzcom . @geekinstilettos

[minteagalaxea]

steep (sand) | r. reigns

roman and quynh . formerly john and quynh

genre: angst . smut (minors do not interact) content warnings: praise kink . sir kink . oral (m. receiving) . light bondage . nb character (afab) . multiple orgasms . squirting . voyeurism . exhibitionism (petty edition) . belly bulge word count: 5.02k inspiration: john cena's heel turn at elimination chamber . roman not showing up to work . roman reigns' several barbs about john and missionary position songs: sand by dove cameron (x) . bambi by baekhyun (slowed and reverb) (x) read also: "steep (xxviii reasons)" (x) . "steep (woo)" (x) note: thank you so so much @spiicii for being a soundboard for this one! i'm lowkey crashing out bc of school, but this one has been motivating me lol! and thank you @lov3rla03 for being lowkey the impetus for this entire trilogy <3

like most actions regarding the company and his career, quynh always played a factor in it.

john thought back to those four years ago, where he caught them with roman in the locker room fucking after roman beat him at summerslam—how he couldn’t ignore the signs anymore there was something dangerously enticing between the two of them. quynh had always gravitated towards ambition. fuck, they had once said it themselves that they appreciated that in a partner.

and well, the rock had given him an offer he couldn’t refuse now that he was going to go up against cody rhodes at his last ever wrestlemania. and that 17th title was too tempting to resist before he could retire. and perhaps it was irrational for him to hope that maybe quynh would see him in some different light. it certainly did with roman.

god, he hated how roman managed to do it so effortlessly with them. even from before, when he was still with quynh, there was a particular ease, a flow in how they interacted on and off the camera. john knew it wasn’t a secret that quynh was one of the few people who was able to ensure roman didn’t get booed by the wwe universe. and that tension seemed to continue and worsen as roman…evolved? maybe devolved was the better word given the carnage he left in his wake, the mythos crafted for the tribal chief.

and yet despite everything, quynh stayed with him, built a life with the tribal chief like nothing mattered. like the amount of people he decimated was irrelevant. it didn’t even matter that roman fucking lost the damn title to cody rhodes, that he caused cody to start losing his relationship with his trusted allies from partnering with roman after he was suddenly a good guy.

no, it didn’t matter to quynh that he had left them behind the way john did. if anything, it only strengthened their resolve with him, to be with him. and it also didn’t matter that roman didn’t fucking show up to work half the damn time, because quynh was so in love with roman fucking reigns. never mind that the two of them were going through the same thing he and quynh went through with the whole long-distance thing.

he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer when he confronted them backstage before smackdown. his feet sought them out, a cadence forged from years of habit, years of refusing to let go, years of trying to nurture rare tea leaves into a precious bloom. yet, when he saw quynh in the dressing room, settling their breath before a long night of commentary with wade barrett and tapping their artificial nails along the table, the sight was anything but precious.

john recalled vividly summerslam almost four years ago, how roman had pointed out that their new back piece was going to look beautiful. roman wasn’t incorrect—in that mesh cropped tank and their slacks highlighted the ink on their back, the delicacy of those weaving around their body like armor. and it only got worse for him when they turned around, their shorter hair exposing their most recent piece, and john’s breath hitched every time he saw it.

their latest piece was built for sin, etched around their throat like the pièce de résistance of the inked armor all along their body. paired with their nails—short almond press-ons that were deceptively innocent with the cat-eye jade with beautiful winter flowers—and their smoky jade eyeshadow with the black and mint eyeliner? it made quynh look like a creature of sin.

and yet, sin was the last thing on quynh’s mind as they asked, “am i supposed to congratulate you for returning to your roots?” their nails tapped against the dressing room table as they presented him with an unreadable stare.

his voice was cool as he answered, “well, i thought you’d appreciate it given that you seem to have a type with bad boys.” it wasn’t a joke that they found funny, and john could see the disdain in their eyes as they shook their head, muttering something in vietnamese that john knew wasn’t anything positive. it wasn’t until they said it again more clearly that it struck him to the core, despite the amount of times he has heard it by now.

sell-out.

and fuck, that pissed him off.

“and roman wasn’t?” john knew his voice carried an edge, a bite that he hadn’t felt before when speaking to quynh. even after their breakup, the two had at least remained on neutral terms. enough for them to be able to do their jobs without letting barbs get in the way of their performance. roman, evidently, never had such scruples. he continued, “don’t tell me you’re carrying a torch for him now that you two are together.”

john forgot what it was like to argue with quynh. how it wasn’t always the best idea because fuck, they were ridiculously at tearing people down with a well-timed question, how they probably knew more about his reactions than he did himself. and despite them no longer being together, quynh’s perceptiveness had never changed as their lips curled into a smile sharper than steel and soft as silk as they crooned, “is that what this is about? because you’re jealous?”

shit. that stung. but…not entirely incorrect, was it? because every time he saw quynh—or really, quynh with roman—it made his blood whistle the way that kettle on his stovetop when the water was way past boiling and definitely too hot for tea. he didn’t bother to deny it anymore. they backed him into a corner so effortlessly that he couldn’t win. yet, was it about winning?

his voice hardened as he dug harder and firmer, “are you serious right now? what he did isn’t the same thing?”

“no, john. at least, i don’t think so.”

“and what makes it different, then?” he asked, taking a step closer, yet stopping as their nails tapped in a cascading rhythm against the table.

the counter came easily, “because your circumstances are selfish.” this time, they took a step closer, long legs flowing as they got closer to him.

“you’re about to retire, and you decide that because you want to win so badly, you’re going to sell out on the principles you’ve extolled for who the fuck knows how long because you’re so sick of how the fans treat you and want the best for you? instead of doing the people who supported you for your entire career justice and making them proud because they wanted that win for you.”

hisis blood boiled at that comment, and he snapped, “they didn’t care about me, quynh. because everything i do isn’t enough for them, and all they’ll do is demand more.” 

“that's how fans are. but, the thing is you earned their respect. and now you’re throwing all that away because your ego can’t take it? you think they treated you like shit so instead of just maybe forcing them to respect you, you’re rejecting the people who got you here?”

his feet froze, and he could only gaze into the hard line of their grimace and the foreign steel in their eyes. john wondered if roman rubbed off on them, or if it had been there all along in their time together, and he hadn’t seen it. hadn't gotten to see it given how far away they were, where the title of being their partner was more of a formality than a legitimate description. 

his voice steeled as their arms crossed, almost daring him to argue back as he said, “that's what roman did, didn’t he? came back because nobody was acknowledging him? took that title back, made everyone acknowledge him, became a monster, and you were into it?”

their tone carried that bellicose undertone of challenge, of annoyance as they raised an eyebrow, “you think that’s the reason i got with him? because he decided to stop playing…you?”

“i think you wouldn’t be saying what you’re saying if you weren’t in his bed while we were together.”

quynh didn’t say anything, the accusation did what it was meant to. but the look of frozen, icicile-esque vitriol in their eyes felt like he had just poured boiling water onto delicate, floral tea leaves to steep and burn.

at that point, their footsteps resounded less as a soft clack, morphing into the sharpening of a sword as they strode up to him with an elegant fury as their eyes flickered down to him just slightly. damn those heels of theirs, the ones that always put them above him by an inch and a half. the same ones that put them a half-inch shy of roman’s height. and their voice, a velvety dulcet contralto that always reminded john of a sweetened green tea, tasted astringent in the air as they hissed.

“how fucking dare you.”

john knew he erred. monumentally. for a lot of reasons.

the first reason was that quynh wasn’t just an interviewer anymore. they were at the commentary desk full time. and that meant anything and everything that happened in the ring got filtered through them. john forgot about that part, about their words were perhaps one of the greatest weapons that could be wielded. it shaped a lot of public perception. he knew that a fair part of what made the bloodline so successful was quynh’s ability to weave a mythos around them.

and their career, inextricably, would always be tied to roman reigns. before the bloodline, before the tribal chief. all the way back to when roman was supposed to be another him, and yet quynh prodded roman at the seams. their questions and silence made it easy for roman to give in, to show something that wasn’t whatever the company projected. and roman got over because of it, because their disconcerting, calculated silences gave roman that space to basically reveal the true parts of himself. the ambition, the ruthlessness.

john also knew that roman wasn’t entirely subtle with the way he looked at them back then, when they were young yet sharp and intolerant of anyone’s coddling, patronizing, and condescension. while he couldn’t attest to the frequency of it, given that he wasn’t physically there for most of it, he did watch the show, and he had witnessed it once firsthand how the other man admired quynh. respectful, certainly, but when quynh stared back with that same admiration, it made that one theory that spread around a whole lot more probable about how close they really were when john wasn’t there.

quynh wasn’t giving him such a luxury to talk, to bury himself even more, and he could hear it in their voice as they released a maelstrom of bitter words, anguished as if trying to hold back tears, “the fucking audacity to act like i didn’t continue holding that torch for you when you left me and took all the pieces of me that i’ll never get back. but, i had nothing of you because you took all of that with you to hollywood and you sold out there, and you came back to sell out now to the man you used to despise.”

that stung. but, in the recesses of his mind, he considered heavily that perhaps they were right. their long-distance put a major strain on them, given their youth, and perhaps that was the thing they resented him for most. that youth of theirs was something he took, shackling them both in a relationship where they couldn’t grow because who could they grow with? like a plant expected to grow without any sunlight or water to help it thrive, maybe a part of them died because of that distance, the complacency, the pains of him not being there.

feebly, he countered, “roman’s part-time like me, how often is he showing up to these things?”

“he still travels with me. he still makes the point to ask me things instead of blindly accusing me of things that would damage any good standing i have with my colleagues here. he gives as much as he takes from me.” their voice is plaintive, and john found the words dead in his throat as quynh’s eyes flitted towards the clock outside. it was almost showtime, and that meant they had to be out at the commentary desk.

before they left, though, quynh offered him some parting words with those beautiful eyes that glowed under the clinical lighting in that shade of tea brown that john caused a lot from burning and steeping his tea for too long.

“you know, had i actually cheated on you, i wouldn’t have gotten with roman two years after our breakup—i would have gotten with him thirty minutes after it.”

as their heels clacked against the floor, it sounded like the worst echo of his life.

cruelly, or perhaps not, given quynh’s general way with words, those words lingered as he watched on the monitor them running play-by-play with wade barrett, smackdown their entire kingdom as they spun their pen. they gave him, still, a somewhat courteous, snipe about his heel turn, but that was it. and evidently, wade didn’t want to entertain it longer given that was going to influence how quynh dictated commentary for the next few hours.

the worst thing was that they left after, not bothering to stick around after thanking all of the production crew. and if what they said were true, then john was watching them enter their ride back to the hotel with roman driving. those words came back with a vengeance, pounding like a hangover of goliath-like proportions. and that pounding only continued to escalate as he returned to the hotel, with the intention to go back to his room.

until he heard rapid-fire vietnamese mixing with whatever stray bits of english he could catch to piece together stuff. john didn’t need to do that much thinking to figure out it was quynh most likely talking about him. and not in a good way. he kept his footsteps quiet as he made his way to the door, trying to hide better than the last time this happened, pressing himself up against the wall so maybe they wouldn’t catch him this time.

“he just…he questioned my integrity, ro,” they griped, feet bare as they paced on the balls of their feet, ethereal and yet strong. it was the only complete english sentence quynh had said the entire time before they spiralled into another grumble in vietnamese. from what john could also catch, he saw roman’s patient nods and comprehension of whatever else they groused in their other language.

“and he questioned your integrity, too! like you’d go after someone who was in a relationship or fresh out of one.” their voice echoed in john’s head as the other man hummed, most likely agreeing with their sentiment. yet, they weren’t done, spewing out another stream of words in vietnamese until they felt it was enough.

tilting his head inside to peek at the slightly ajar door (why was it even open, john wouldn’t know), saw the other man standing up at a measured pace. he grabbed their wrists, both of them easily fitting in his hands as he stood behind them, pressing up against them in an act of domineering kindness. his eyes could only widen as roman’s hands looped a length of silk ribbon, weaving a delicate pattern around their wrists.

“you’re not scratching yourself anymore tonight, understand?” his voice resonated into the room. yet, the thing was, the more insane and yet hot thing in john’s eyes, was how easily quynh went with it, the tension immediately dissipating with each binding of the ribbon.

roman’s back had obscured quynh’s wrists, but when he moved to face them, john caught it properly. angry little rivulets and marks on their palms, glowing menacingly under the warm hotel light alongside the ink on their back. quynh hadn’t responded, but their voice came out in a breathy assent when roman tilted their chin up with a raised brow, the silent demand for words evident.

“yes, sir.”

john hadn’t gotten hard that fast in a long time.

and perhaps it got worse when john had to press himself up against the wall further, trying to become one with it when he felt the heat of roman’s gaze at the door, as if finally noticing its slightly ajar state.

“leave it open,” quynh murmured, slightly wavering on the balls of their feet in spite of the other man holding them steady.

fuck.

quynh had to have done this on purpose—there was no way neither of them realized john was there, right back where they were just over 3 years ago, where john was watching the two go at it in the locker room after summerslam with the door accidentally ajar. he wasn’t sure if that was always a thing, or if this was just reserved for him as roman tangled them up into a kiss, stabilizing their form to effortlessly lift them into the air and onto the ottoman, jettisoning the fabrics off of their body before he sat on the edge of the bed. john observed the way the tattoos on their waist flexed as roman spread his legs up enough for them to slot effortlessly into, his large hands carding through their shorn hair. mauve now. it suited them as he watched how the other man kissed their forehead first before guiding them to his shaft. as he leaned forward, quynh settled back onto their haunches; john’s eyes couldn’t leave their form, how the artwork on their waist and thigh flexed and rippled as if it wore their body. that same curvature applied to their spine, which arched so beautifully as they leaned down to suckle on the tip.

that particular tableau was hard for john to resist, for him to try and replace the image in his mind with him there instead of roman. yet, that fantasy contained a hindrance—a lack of appreciation of quynh’s sinuous form as they suckled on the tip, dark eyes peering up at their partner as he cupped their face in his hands. he guided their head down, their body blooming under roman’s expert hands the way a flower would.

john definitely felt like he was hallucinating as he stroked himself that those flowers on quynh’s thighs felt as if they were blooming even more as they bobbed their head, taking roman to the hilt with each incremental pass down. “that’s it, baby,” roman’s baritone-bass crooned, a hand carding through their hair as they settled down to the root, resting there and making him groan as they suckled around him. john’s hand worked himself harder as he listened to their muffled moans and gazed upon their inked form.

roman continued his praise, a growling sort of thing when they started to shift their head in an unencumbered, leisurely cadence, “fuck, you’re so good to me, baby. look so pretty with your mouth full of cock.”

and the sound quynh made was crafted of shredded silk and crushed sin as their movements escalated in pace just barely. yet, roman seemed to be able to tell the difference in a way john never quite could. like knowing the subtle difference between a tea leaf being ripe for harvest and one that needed more shade. he wasn’t good at that, with the clumsiness of distance. roman was attentive to them, and his groans and grunts reflected that innate knowledge of them just like he knew everything about quynh’s tattoos.

“shit, just like that, baby, i’m so close.” roman’s voice barely broached the soft environment of the hotel room, one of the few things he had said for the majority of the evening. that wasn’t something he or quynh ever tended to struggle with—the weight of the silence, what was unsaid as much as what was. john felt that ugly pit of jealousy and anger seep through his veins while he escalated the pace of his strokes, the sight of quynh bound and kneeling and that delicate, deliberate pace they had set. they still maintained it despite roman’s words, but john knew that roman could tell the difference as something shifted, his low sounds blending with their muted moans in a mesmerizing melody.

his own hand increased its pace to that, grip firmer as he tried to emulate perhaps what quynh could do, but he knew he was failing—failing to be quiet, failing to slow down. because that was the thing, wasn’t it? how what roman was doing, or rather, what he was instructing quynh to do, wasn’t about the speed or the urgency of the act. it wasn’t about second winds or wrecking them.

john was used to that urgency, to that adrenaline that festered after anything, just like tonight when he went out and got jeered in five billion different iterations because of him spilling out his rage, his torment to the audience. that used to happen a lot with quynh back then when they reunited, the urgency of seeing them before he would have to leave again ending in a lot of quick, borderline marathon sessions because he wanted that sort of moment, or simplistic things because the thing he missed most was them.

maybe, he pondered, that was selfish. that wasn’t something he could shake off as roman tenderly carded through their hair when he spilled into their mouth, their nose pressed up in his abdomen as they bloomed for him, drinking from him akin to a dehydrated plant soaking in the rain. and that had made john spill into his hand with a groan that he knew the two definitely heard given how quiet they were.

when the samoan eventually pried quynh off of his cock, he instantly lifted them onto his lap, their legs straddling his waist. john’s eyes widened as roman asked, “you feeling better now, baby?”

because, of fucking course, the otc had an entire reason for what quynh just did for him. it was about them both, through the care he had been attempting to give them, a respite from the burning fire that john branded into their veins. that sort of twisted care that only the tribal chief seemed to understand in them, john pondered as they nodded in confirmation, kissing him with that shyness that seemed to only show up when they had the understanding that they were being watched. his cock sprung to life and got even harder, if possible, as they whispered just loud enough, “yes, sir.”

john thought that it was peculiar that their shyness still occurred in spite of them evidently leaving the door open with the understanding that he was watching. he had seen their body naked more than enough times to count. but, perhaps this was different, this new self of theirs since roman became the tribal chief, the snapshots of what he saw when he returned every now and then when he saw the way both seemed to sharpen and soften one another. the worst thing was that he couldn’t pull his gaze away as they kissed, the samoan stabilizing them given their bound wrists. he finally noticed that they didn’t develop any more rivulets or scratches on their hands.

“did so good for me, baby,” roman murmured into their lips, and quynh preened as he shifted them, carefully tipping them back to have their upper body dangling off the edge of the bed. those clawed hands gripped the ottoman with a dainty ferocity. from john’s angle peering through the door, he caught the way the tattoo underneath the swell of their chest ripple from the position with how they arched towards the tribal chief with a certain magnetism as they begged for him. that same begging that had john frozen in his self-gratification.

“sir, fuck me, please. please, i’ve been good.”

and, by john’s metrics, they might have been. but, he wasn’t the one calling the shots. he stopped calling the shots a long time ago when it came to quynh. hell, they never entertained this sort of thing despite his knowledge that quynh wanted it, wanted to explore it. that didn’t prevent him from ruminating over the hypothetical if it was him. in that hypothetical, he wouldn’t have. he would probably prolong their begging, make them apologize for the shit they spewed at him earlier.

however, roman wasn’t such a man, spreading their legs enough to tap his tip against their long-neglected entrance, slipping in without resistance, leaning down to press a kiss to their stomach before he sank into them—a slow, careful thing this time around as he grasped their waist. those large hands eclipsed the ink work as he worked up an impactful, yet slow rhythm. and that cadence had everything quynh needed to mewl and cry out in bliss with the force of it, but also the care behind it. the intention there as john could only imagine the blood rushing towards their head compiling to their bliss. and holy fuck, he was hard all over again and the only thing he could consider despite the strain on that one hand was to keep using it.

as far as he knew, this was a warped, skewed form of caretaking, a proper sort of blossoming in hot water at the right temperature, the proper amount of water, every detail precisely accounted for. roman’s hands, large and calloused with enough blood on his hands in the company, handled quynh with precision and a certain level of expertise that was equal parts innate and trained. john forgot that, that innate sense of gentleness that only seemed reserved for quynh. one of roman’s massive hands rested under the curvature of their arched back; the other fell on their abdomen, palm digging into their sensitive, neglected nub, while his fingers tapped against the imprint his cock made against their body. they had flexed and swiveled their hips upward, their inked arms on full display as their grip on the ottoman grew ironclad.

“fuck, you’re so deep,” their voice carried through the rather silent air, wrapping around john’s cock that spurred him on deeper with the intensity of an inferno. working his hand harder wasn’t even a suggestion at this point, that breakneck chase for release in diametric opposition to the crafted experience roman fostered for them.

it wasn’t even a surprise that he was about to burst, but the way that quynh’s strong, lithe frame fucking seized up when roman’s palm didn’t cease their movement, only hastening for them to just…spray a fountain of release, their nectar thin and explosive that made roman growl lowly in approval and awe. john could only concur as he stained his hand again with pearlescent ropes to coalesce with the ones drying on his skin and boxers.

apparently, the other man was similar as he praised them for being so fucking beautiful and perfect as his hips stuttered and stilled, undoubtedly spilling his cream inside of them. john couldn’t catch it past the roar of his head, barely hearing the baritone croons of “that’s it, baby” and “taking it so well, yeah?” over the squelches caused from quynh’s feat as his fingers continued their onslaught on their pearl, his cadence paradoxically unforgiving and doting. their voice came out in wispy staccatos and cries of “sir” for the man that caused them to flower in such a way.

he should have left. he really should have. the show was over, and john tried to catch his breath with heaving pants from the sheer magnitude of his crest. it didn’t go past him that he mirrored the couple in the room. everything roared in his head, and maybe that was why he couldn’t look away from them.

his eyes lingered as roman helped pull quynh back up to properly rest and straddle his lap, tucking their face into the crook of his neck and running his massive hands down the flowers winding down their arms. his lips lingered on their throat, husky declarations of praise and admiration tumbling past his lips in their name while undoing their bindings.

“how are your arms, baby?” quynh’s arms wound around his neck, impaled on his length with soft whimpers as they tried to recollect themselves.

he couldn’t catch what they said, but it was enough for them to share tender kisses with roman fucking reigns in ways john didn’t think he was capable of doing. their foreheads pressed against one another before the sight of them evaporated from view, akin to a mirage or the steam that always wafted from a hot cup of tea.

and as the tea cooled and he remained watching, john couldn’t help but wonder what inspired him to stay there despite his release drying uncomfortably with the two heavy climaxes. perhaps it was because the door hadn’t closed yet, or maybe the wishful thought of seeing quynh in that blooming glow, fully blossomed and beautiful.

john wouldn’t get his wish. the tea cooled too long.

roman’s heavy gaze met his own as he approached the door. there was no point in hiding his presence from the man, given how they all knew the door was open solely for john. however, it was never in invitation, but always in spite.

he said nothing. neither did roman. there was nothing to say. however, when roman offered steely eyes as he shut the door shut, john knew that quynh had slipped through his fingertips like the finest grains of sand, molded into the perfect counterpart for the (original) tribal chief. or, he supposed, they were a beguilingly rare tea that would never have steeped right under his clumsy hands, no matter how much he would attempt to refine it. roman showed them what it was like to steep properly, without astringency and with all those floral complexities that shone with every sip.

it didn’t matter now—he’d never get another chance to try his hand, with how much and how little they lingered on the tongue of his mind.

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[minteagalaxea]

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