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[joannasteez]

almost blue (1)

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader warning: explicit descriptions of violence and sexual activity. minors please do not interact. readers eighteen and older interact only please. descriptions of alcohol consumption and the use of deadly weapons. authors note: JOHN WICK AU!!! so excited to share this! i had this sorta kinda in my back pocket for a while, while trying to build up tanks of blood, which you can find to read here. not everything in this is super true to the world of john wick but the most im using as inspo is the aesthetic anyways. also a one off mention of john wick lol. that and some of the names for certain things. italics in the beginning represent flashback perspective music inspo: almost blue by chet baker word count: 4800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce @crxssjae

new york. the continental hotel and it's flatiron shape. september 2019. the rain, this soft unsteady pitter patter. a gentle gray coloring the sky. the air cold and biting. the city filling its brim with a sleepless droning. 

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—gold trim and blood red carpet floors—bath water disturbs till its sloshing to overtake the tub. a messy spill against the floor. his lips working over yours. fingers kneading deep enough into skin that it stains with the print of his touch. nails tender in his hair and your body melting in till the heat of him breaks over your skin. his everything settled into the wisp and charm of your voice as his pleasure becomes whole. too great.

—but his memory tires from old moments like these, a shell of itself as it attempts in vain to restore to it's former glory. has been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for sometime. but this straining is singular. a throbbing at the forefront of his skull. a tight pulling pain at the nape of his neck till it's creeping wild at the tip of his spine. forcing him to grow ill as he works to reminisce. body wistfully undone. and what words do the men of our time say about insanity? to be in a perpetual state of trying, doing, in hopes of something new. and so on he went, flirting with this disaster, this run of nostalgia, so much so that memory has forsaken him, taking these little complexities —the new york rain and the taste of your lips— along with it. 

but cody can handle the load and reload of a glock 26 as fast as he does it well. a deft maneuvering before the barrel raises and he pulls the trigger, the recoil driving sharp. a bullet through the skull and the splattering of blood. whoever meant to kill him, now dead in his wake. 

but what cruelty this is. a traitor to his own body. living with nothing but the means to kill and tattered memory. with him still, only, all of the things left unsaid—

you'd smelt of vanilla. the yearning about his tongue deep and yet to be settled. his lips a shadow as they feathered against yours. his questions overdone with a frightening passion. "where are you ten years from now?" 

your fingers slipped over his skin, as easy as they would over porcelain. a delicate taking over wet soapy muscle till it clawed over his shoulders and against the heat of his cheeks. "somewhere warm and comfortable. retired".

where ever you were, is where he wanted to be. "am i with you?"

a reversion, just barely perceptible, but there all the same. something like fear, like hesitation, pushing against a situational sort of tenderness in your eyes. the warmth slowly but forcibly outdone by the cold. lukewarm. just like the fate of too old bath water. not enough of either extreme. lukewarm. 

"seems more like a question for you to answer".

"answer it anyways".

and he couldn't feel your lips anymore. too much air, too much distance. caution thick. woven about your words. the tones. the inflections. "ten years from now, you'll be somewhere as warm, as comfortable and retired too".

"am i with you?" 

to draw such a long length of need into the air. passions and hopes and dreams. cody knew. it would've been easier to take the sear of a bullet, the ripping tear in of a knife or the crack of something blunt and unforgiving to his skull. those things easier than the down trod of such a silence. your eyes having gained more and more distance. fear peaking soft and brown before the quick slip over of indifference. like you didn't care for his whispered words sounding too much like forever. and recovery from bullets and knives and blunt force was tedious. sewn up skin and the reformation of fine motor skill. but this. the way you suffered him to feel the drift away of your body and the simple, delicate, eager push in of your touch. something in his heart—amongst the lukewarm water—failed. this low dropping into a less lively place. 

new york. the continental hotel and its flatiron shape. june 2024. a peak of the sun amidst more grayish than white clouds against an icy pale blue sky. the air breezy with a teasing smell of rain. like a stray tendril before some great unraveling. the city as sleepless as it's ever been. 

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—scarlet sage in bloom and the ever present air of readymade violence—cody sips at a short glass of brandy. an edgy spike to his tongue as it settles. everything of the continental he possessed now lost to time and the overwork of his sore tired memory. lost to a bout of corrosion done by words left unsaid. because he did not remember your answer after the persistence of his "am i with you?” all thats left, this great blurring. of words and the finer littler complexities. your lips and your eyes and the soft ways of your touch. and maybe it came to be this way for good reason. using such a burn to his ego to fuel the fire of his rage. revenge for memories unforgettable. around the glass of brandy, his hands feel stronger. less careful in how they hold. caution be damned. he sips again to finish. his finger buttoning his suit jacket, making way from the bar and across the communal space of the hotel. 

warmth at his ear and a twitch in his trigger finger. something like eyes resting over him. watching him.

he continues to a connecting hallway. elevators and mosaic floors. maybe the brandy wasn't the best idea, but neither was coming to such sacredly awful ground. lovers trauma and all that bullshit jazz. 

the fourteenth floor is quiet. his steps carpeted by soft wool. a second twitch in his trigger finger that leads into the sharp driving heat reminiscent of staggering gun recoil. a sweet burning in his arm, the muscles knowing, remembering. but he has nothing of use on him. nothing to snuff out and quiet that vicious call of death. his hotel room styled with a modernistic flare to it's luxury. clean and unadorned. a simple reflection of his own style thankfully, but nothing extravagant to weaponize. he would have to, if needed, to make due. a slim ball point pen, sleek and multifunctional, rests next to a complimentary bottle of wine. "enjoy your stay", in cursive. cody feels the warmth at the tip of his ear again, something greater than a simple bout of paranoia. his fingers slip the pen into his pocket, a reversing in his steps to triple check the locking function of the room doors.

and he shouldn't be so wound up should he? conducting business was, is, has always been forbidden on hotel grounds. 

his fight or flight saying otherwise. breathing over his skin overwhelmingly warm. lingering wearily. intuition always a nagging son of a bitch but never wrong. it's never failed him. 

cody showers, stands amidst the icy rain of too cold water. cody showers, because warm baths terrify something in his body. the possibility of turning stale and lukewarm. too distant and uninviting to be either extreme. like eyes and soft lips he can barely form well enough to reimagine. 

and the bed sheets are welcoming. slipping along his skin with a delicate relief. but still, something feels wrong. a heaviness to the air that precedes this faithful old tryst with life. with death. the ring of his phone working to unburden him suddenly, but for only some seconds. the number blocked. he answers, rushing to fish that ball point pen from his dress pants. sleek and multifunctional in his grip. but the urgency in his maneuvering cuts short with the slip in of something dangerously angelic. memory sore and exhausted no more, but now rushing back to him fervid and unrelenting. a tender charming tone in his ear that disrupts the stalwart build of his resolve. september 2019. june 2024. five years of an almost complete pain. icy feeling wind with the teasing of a torrential down pour. almost there but not quite. the anger and the pain never red enough. the sadness almost blue. 

"the loft in tribeca" you start. cody commits it all to memory. the words, the tones, the inflections. shuffling to rough his pants on. pen in his pocket. phone wedged to his ear as his fingers rip off the casing of a pillow. body easy as it maneuvers to protect his six o'clock, leaning against the wall. his eyes scope along the room. an over examination. waiting. "if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there". 

the call drops. 

the slow unlocking click of his hotel room door. his muscles burn with remembrance. eyes sharp. his ears attune. the shells of them warm. cautioned steps approach the entry way of the bedroom but they fail to go unnoticed. thudding against the soft carpet. and if not for the possibility of his demise, cody would laugh. surely this was amateur hour. boots and inconspicuous were no more suited together than suede in the rain. and he'd made that rookie mistake before. back when he was a rookie. but the high table were no idiots, sending rookies to bring his head in, unless they hated him that much and felt he should feel the brunt of that hatred with some disrespect. and disrespect it was. 

cody's breath holds. his head thumping against the wall before he makes a swift crouch to his knees. a gun rounding the corner, and a bullet flying aimed for where his head had knocked in. a simple quick diversion. nothing special or particularly extravagant, but enough to give him seconds to maneuver. and oh this is disrespect in deed. dominik mysterio the source of his current heavy breathed, adrenaline rushing circumstance. cody knuckling the hold of the still upward pointed gun with a punch before another sinks into domink's abdomen. a short grunt breaking from the scrappy, ill-sophisticated, mullet wearing piece of shit. and surely dominik is more of a piece of shit when his heavy boot toughs into cody's jaw. racing for the gun. 

but cody is quick. has felt and faced harsher things. if anything, its more of an irritation he feels than a full measure of pain. it was hard maintaining good skin considering the life he led. he spits against the carpet. iron on his tongue. red staining the clean line designs. he reaches for dominik's leg just before he's in reach of the gun. pulling him near and flipping him over quickly. a rough hand in the silk of domink's mullet as he rains down punches with the other.  cody ill satisfied as he hears the sloppy singing of grunts from the younger mysterio. and as his frustration mounts, swindled by the audacity of the high table, dominik gains an advantage. his hips shifting up to propel cody, his arms lean and tight and trapping over cody's and rolling. 

"you three piece suit, hugo boss wannabe wearing motherfucker", dominik's face bloody and angry. his fists balled and quick as he comes down against cody's face. 

the impression of the pen presses into cody's thigh. memory and dexterity working like a trained muscle. amidst the  barrage of fists, cody reaches for the sleek ball point pen. clicking the tip and rushing it into dominik's side. harsh vicious stabs till the pain takes hold enough for him to hesitate. plunging the inky tip into his neck, where blood flows to gush. breaking up out of his skin. choking on air and the pain of a slow to come death. 

"bulletproof three piece suits asshole", cody roughs out. kicking dominik for satisfaction. 

if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there

the loft is the same. unadorned by that uncanny but natural weathering of time and neglect. warm homely autumn inspired tones with splashes of green and hand carved wooden furniture. cody ever the horrendous sucker for hand carved shit. an intimate union of labor and passion. ever the reflection of a once lively relationship. carefully cultivated, ending poorer than a bastard dying with his eyes wide open. because when you go that way, you deserve it. but cody? his passions didn't deserve that violent abrupt end. and yet here he is, creeping past the entrance. a painful stuttering of footfalls as he goes. muscles sore and his skin on fire. 

dominik mysterio was a warm up. a warning even. the call must've went out. a bounty worth enough for people to try him. the train ride to tribeca interestingly violent. a woman with a knife, a man with a gun and another thinking his bare hands were some great unstoppable force. and no, cody did not make quick work of them. not as quickly as he would've liked. but he managed. and at the very least, he'd suffered a slitting cut to his cheek and a laceration to his chest. that piece of shit running the blade right through his tattoo. some maybe secondary bruising and a bad headache. but he's not dead. not like the idiots that tried and failed to kill him. 

the loft, much like the continental hotel, is agreed upon neutral ground. a place for trysts and the sharing of information. or rather, thats what it used to be. now, cody isn't so sure. 

and his limping is pathetically loud. shoes a heavy clack against the floor. makes him bristle annoyed. you stand just behind the kitchen island. wine bottle opened. a glass in hand as you sip. more beautiful than he remembers. soft looking still, your eyes casting over the rim as you sip, undeniably deceptive. 

a gun lays easy on the coffee table sat between two couches. too easy. but his displeasure gets the best of him. he shifts for it quickly. a swift up of his hands positioned about the gun, aiming for your face. 

you knew his whereabouts. so much so that you knew the whereabouts of the people trying to kill him. taking the chance to trust could cost him his life. and cody quite likes his life. 

"you had me scared a little bit". a gentle float of words. a finger dancing along the rim of the wine glass. a daring stare down the barrel of the gun. "i thought you got bested by a second rate mysterio". and when cody doesn't move, captured by pain, caution and the mystique of your presence, your eyes roll. his form fixed and perfected. trigger finger cool, but his heart unsure. "cut the melodrama. put the gun down cody". 

"you knew i was being followed", he clips. jaw tight. 

"i mean...duh...", you give. dry and teasing. finishing your wine. "half of that was me, and lets not be silly", covering the length of distance between your bodies slowly. a stalking patience. a fierce feline approach. "you shot a bullet through the skull of one of thee most important men. finding out don't come cheap when you fuck with the high table". 

"everybody seems to forget I had to bury my father", the barrel of the gun kept high with perfect aim as you near closer. "killing that sack of shit was just me evening the score". 

"i didn't kill your father cody". 

was that sincerity? empathy? a sudden waft in of warmth after years in the cold. it felt unreal. true but unreal. and he was sure it wouldn't last. 

"obviously", cody bites out. 

your forehead nestles against the barrel of the gun. his memory overwrought. his senses in a frenzy. a horrible mixture in his skin of pain and elation. steeped with the fear of having to endure another sudden vanishing. angry that such an endurance was his portion in the first place. 

"so then why is the gun still pointed at me?"

his fixed form eases. your hand slipping the gun from his hold gently. fire over his skin as you touch him for the first time in five years. a deft maneuvering about the cold heavy metal to expose the contents of the magazine. amusement coloring your eyes and spreading over your mouth for a teasing little smile. 

"they're blanks anyways", emptying the magazine as the faux bullets fall to the floor. your hand settling down the gun and its magazine on the coffee table. leaving him in an exasperated awe as you head toward the kitchen. "just wanted to see how thin your patience has worn". 

your chin jutting over to the couch. hands full of medical supplies as you pad over to him softly. his body aching and slow as it rests into the tender leather seating, but moving without delay still. always under the gentle charm of your voice, his being falling under this servile sort of subjection. making him bristle silently within himself. all that time and distance amounting to nothing for his resolve. 

cody surrenders. mind over matter no longer needed. succumbing to the full weight of his pain. hair messy with red droppings of other peoples blood. his muscles sore and the hammering about his skull diligent and taunting. 

"my pain has always been a funny little joke to you". 

you pull the coffee table closer to the wide spread of cody's legs. your own slipping over to straddle the strength of one of his thighs. your body warm and comforting against his skin. an old feeling blooming in his chest. you were doing this on purpose. he's sure of it. to see him waver and yield to the charm of your presence. gentle touch dabbing to rid his cheek of dried blood before you went about cleaning the wound. his fingers itching to form to your body, desperate to push dull nails into your skin again. to form in and caress with the intent to renew his memory. 

your eyes flit to his crotch. "its a lot more than little. give yourself some credit", you muse. applying butterfly stitches. 

the air is thick. forces him to maintain a steady breath. memory overwrought once more. a mighty rushing in that heats him whole. your hands working his button up open. the lax take of your palm to his belly forcing a throb to the crux of his thighs. the closing in of the distance makes for easy intimacy. a registration of the lesser noticeable, more complex things. the prick of your nails telling familiar stories, as they work to rid him of the shirt all together. tender and caring, similar to how they used to be. your eyes roaming and thinly glazed over. he spares a glance at the wine bottle. halfway done. your ministrations functional but indulgent of the moment. of his skin.

a quicksand sort of state of affairs. if he doesn't pull himself together now, he would fall into you. full consumption. and he can't possibly risk his life because he's half hard and overdone with sentiment. 

"how long have you been following me?"

you apply something like a salve after cleaning the nasty chest wound. an anesthetic. how sweet of you. to suddenly take his pain into consideration.

"a few months". 

"why am i not dead?"

your body adjusts a top of him. somehow closer. your knee nearly running into his crotch. "yet", you give. beginning the process of suturing. "the question everyone wants to know is why is cody rhodes not dead yet". breaking shortly to peer over him. a full examination it seems. heat rising in his cheeks. "cause he's no john fuckin wick. so why is he still here". pressure of the needle feeding into his skin. your lip tucking under your teeth in full concentration. "people don't know resilience is the bane of even your own existence. a little meat puppet made to take push pins". 

he scoffs. "this doesn't feel like a compliment if it is". 

you finish off the suture. a hesitant but delicate maneuvering off his thigh to rid of the medical supplies. the heat of you gone in an instant. "its an observation". the uncorking pop of that half drunken wine bottle. a generous crimson pour that you sip at. 

"on what basis exactly?" 

a whipping swing of kitchen cabinet doors. a bottle of brandy and a short glass. for him it seems. and the pained parts of him grow excited at the possibility of a simple taste. anything for a temporary fix. something to numb the burn in his bones. 

"very close encounters".

and no you don't dip into the leather to sit beside him when you return. you assume a much more compromising position. a full straddle of his legs as you gift him his little amber colored remedy. and if at any moment he ever thought he needed it and actually didn't, let this be the moment where that edgy spike to his tongue becomes essential. something to help him as he searches for a secure hold at control. and of course he drinks it all. an easy burning slip against the back of his throat as he feels the heat of you settling back into him. once dormant urges awakening in his fingers. supple thighs lined up over his kevlar woven dress pants. the baggy button up you'd decided was good enough for his visit thin and something like revealing. the other details left to his imagination. and God was that prone to running at any moment. tripping and falling away from him well enough till his crotch became to uncomfortable to bare the perfect fit of his pants. your empty hand returning to where it'd been. roaming tenderly against slow but steady bruising skin. his nose picking up the sweet wine on your breath. the glaze about your eyes. thighs over him, clenching slightly. 

"you were always a little too indulgent with the wine", cody gives. 

your eyes flitting to his crotch again. bulge more prominent. the teasing of your nails inching over past his navel. your throat humming. "and you with me". 

"don't think much of it". an attempt made in vain he thinks. feeling the hard throb of himself as soon as the words leave him. "it tends to happen. adrenaline from almost dying multiple times", his thigh knocking up into yours to grab at your attention. tipsy eyes drifting to the cold blue of his. "now spill. why am i still breathing?"

"because the number isn't high enough yet". another sip of wine before turning to rest it at the table. your hands free to run over the muscle of him. about his shoulders till your thumbs are caressing at his nape and the hard cut of his jaw. and that nearly drives him to insanity. the weight of you resting right where he pulses with life. "i take your head now, i'd be settling. and the game of it all ain't that fun right now anyways. its too amateur hour-ish for me. i wanna battle it out with the adults". 

"im flattered", cody deadpans. 

you smile. thumb soothing over his lip. "as you should be". 

"why else", the pulse about his blood wild. an unadulterated beating that coaxes to life the run off of his imagination. his touch a staggering grip at your jaw. pulling your eyes to him. lowly sat pretty brown eyes with a penchant for doing him inexplicably dirty. but they draw him in all the same. his stomach empty. filled with nothing but the slosh of brandy. cody feeds into the daze of it. the possibility of a buzz. your lips a breath from his. desire on your tongue by way of the sweet smell of wine. "talk".

your hips shift over him. a rut into the fabric. friction to appease the ache, he's sure of it. thin panties and the desperate curl in of your nails. running into his scalp. trying to persuade him with tender touches and the charm of such wanton need. and its working. fuck, itsworking well. had worked some time ago and doing well now just the same. because cody, despite such deadly skill, was not immune to this type of torture. could not battle it with stalwart patience or dapper precision. and as you rut against him again, mind clouded by wine and your own intent, his fingers burn to touch you more. not so simple and plain but disgustingly greedy. his lips smooth against the seam of yours. amber brandy and red wine a near perfect melding together. 

"fuck", you relent. your nose knocking soft into his. laughing with a wry sort of amusement. "it would stroke your ego to a nice little finish if i did say it wouldn't it?"

cody hums. slips his hold till its anchored about your neck. measured in its pressure. his tongue licking to wet his lips. the slight of it forcing a tremble into your body. 

maybe his suffering isn't a lonely one after all. 

you whimper. taking a hard swallow. 

"vindicate me", cody rasps. 

your struggle is apparent. surfaces with a tear that stains your cheek. body undone by the defeat of such an intimate admission. 

"i miss you", fragile and nearly unclear. 

he smiles mirthless against the soft ways of your skin. his nose buried into the dip of your neck. "i don't trust your sentiment".

"it's true cody". 

"she says, after admitting she wants to kill me".

"better me than someone else". your fingers abandoning him to grip into the leather of the couch. a tight take to it that fastens your body into him. your mouth lax as your lips slip over his. the tease of a kiss filled with too much tension to bare. "touch me", you give. a plea and a command all the same. 

his fingers working in swiftly, a firm obedience, cupping your cheeks to steady the wild go of your tongue as it snakes to slip at his. a frail whimper singing from your chest and the return of your sharp nails. digging against his scalp to bring him impossibly closer. nearly suckling his tongue whole as your hips rut at him again. a less cautious shifting as you look for harsher friction. the pain of a murderous sort of labor and the pleasure of touching you again warring over the tenderness of his skin. coaxing him to groan and wince. strong, tired fingers forcing your hips to rock over him. an easy, stable grind along the hard bulge of his cock that leaves you living without the proper brilliance of words. reduced to the struggle of too pleasured moans. 

your teeth prickling and sharp as they snag against his lip. fingers deft, undoing his zipper. the heat of him hard and throbbing dangerous. his headache out done by more pressing matters, hazy and his senses going numb with lust. palms persistent, sinking into supple flesh. and fuck does it feel good. even better when his patience thins. fingers stretching the fabric of your panties till they tear. the slick way of your arousal making for an easier pace. a sweet teasing slip through your slit. his imagination wild and unfettered. even the thought of slipping in to have his full way with you enough to twist the base of his belly. groaning into your mouth.  

fire in his fingers as they pull against the fat of your ass. sweltered skin sweet in his palms. forming with every push and spread and pry that he gives. 

your mouths depart. a hesitant slipping away. breaths heavy. your face hiding in the dip of his neck. your pussy messy. bewitching even as you grind mindless into him. an undulating heat over his skin. "cody", a mantra as it travels to slight the beating of his pulse. 

the tell tale trembling in your body. a breath away from bliss. and he can feel the build in his bones. the return of an ache thats been transformed. throbbing and restless. an urgency he works to relieve. and with it so does your mouth. less desperate to consume him. melting to linger at his lips. breathy and stuttered. 

"right there angel", he gives. a whisper against your lips. corralling the last bits of resolve to break. your hips stuttering but caressing faithful still. coming undone. rutting greedily to grasp at the last bits of pleasure.

and here he finds that charming sort of relief. an unfurling warmth about his skin. snatching your body into him as he strokes against you and throbs, coming undone. release pooling and spurting against the baggy button up you'd worn to tease him with. 

your lips finding his again. needy still. and he accepts without wait. ready and willing. your moaning along his tongue delicate and wispy. reminiscent of a memory once forgotten. new york. september 2019. cody cups your face again. thumbs dusting over the apple of your cheeks. on a mission to stain himself with this moment. sweet red wine mixed with aged brandy. 

she was getting to be a lil too long so i had to break her up! but how do we feel about our little hitman?

[joannasteez]

love how chill and fluffy feeling this fic is.

It Started With A DM: Chapter Three

Plot: What happens when you mistakenly dm your favorite wrestler?

Parings: Roman Reigns x Black OC

Warnings: None

Notes: Besides the original characters, I don't own anyone else in this story I also don't own any of the pics or gifs. This is just make believe and just for my entertainment and others. I'm not making any money from this nor do I plan to make any money from this story. I'm just a fan writing, don't take my work please.

Previously On It Started With A DM: Chapter Two

Three

RomanReigns: Can I ask you a question?

Rainy glances out the window of her Bronco to make sure no cameras were pointed at her, she’s been doing that a lot lately. After the whole Roman DM Incident (that’s what she and Sabrina call it now) she’s been feeling like she’s on an episode of Punk’d but in this case it’s her being tricked instead of the celebrity. She looks back down at her phone sitting on the armrest beside her. She wanted some time to herself before finishing the rest of her shift so she came here to take her lunch. 

☔️RainyJ: Sure

RomanReigns: Why don’t you show your face in your pics?

Why is he lurking on her profile? She didn’t even think about that. Yeah she lurks on his from time to time but he’s an entertainer and he’s fine as fuck. Guess he just wants to know who he’s talking to.  

☔️RainyJ: Idk, just never wanted to

RomanReigns: Are you an influencer?

☔️RainyJ: No … I just post pics of my outfits or what I’m doing. A lot of ppl just happen to like them 🤷🏾‍♀️

☔️RainyJ: Why, got a thing against influencers?

Hopefully he’s not one of those people.

RomanReigns: No, just saw you have a good bit of followers and your profile looks put together not random

☔️RainyJ: I just like for my stuff to look nice and neat I also like photography so I take a lot of pictures for fun. Never thought a bunch of people would start following me but it’s cool. 

RomanReigns: I like it

RomanReigns: Can I ask another question?

☔️RainyJ: … 👀 … yes

RomanReigns: What do you do since photography is just for fun?

☔️RainyJ: I’m a dental hygienist 

RomanReigns: Cool, you must be really smart then

☔️RainyJ: … I guess, I’m not a genius but I know my teeth info

She shakes her head and puts her phone down so she can take a bite of her sandwich. She still can’t believe he keeps messaging her. She thought after that Sunday night she wouldn’t hear from him again but two days later he messaged her and then went silent again. Thinking he got bored of it she was surprised when she woke up this morning to some Instagram notifications, 4 from Sabrina and 1 from him. Unlike the last time he’s been messaging her throughout the day. It’s Wednesday so she figures he's off and bored. 

RomanReigns: Can I ask another question?

Rainy rolls her eyes, she’s starting to feel like he’s just trying to be annoying 

☔️RainyJ: lol you don’t have to keep asking if you can ask a question, just do it.

RomanReigns: Just don’t want to bother you but okay, don’t complain once I start asking you a thousand questions a day.

Rainy doesn’t think she’s going to start complaining anytime soon but she keeps that to herself.

RomanReigns: Why haven’t you gone to the media yet about this?

Rainy puts down her drink, she figured he wasn’t worried about it since he’s messaged her a few times and he hasn’t really sent anything she could use against him, if she was that type of person. But she guesses that’s still something he worries about, which is smart.

☔️RainyJ: Well for starters I’m not like that and I don’t like alot of attention. I like to stay to myself and that would be asking for it if I brought attention to this. 

☔️RainyJ: But it’s still odd that your taking a chance and messaging me, you don’t know if I’m lying or not.

RomanReigns: You’re right I don’t, but I feel if you were gonna say something you would have by now. Like I said I get a vibe from you, and I’ve also done some research on you and you seem private. You don’t even want anyone to see your face … which isn’t fair by the way. 

☔️RainyJ: Why do you need to see my face?

RomanReigns: You’ve seen mines it’s only fair

☔️RainyJ: Me and how many other ppl? You act like you're just some random guy who’s pic I came across.🙄

RomanReigns: I’m sensing a little feistiness with this emoji, is this the same person that was “so embarrassed” to message me? You're talking to me like I’m some average joe instead of your Tribal Chief. 

Rainy laughs, not this again.

☔️RainyJ: Well your name is Joe and who said you were my tribal chief?

RomanReigns: Not funny and I believe you said you were a fan

☔️RainyJ: A fan NOT a follower, I’m not part of the bloodline.

RomanReigns: Not a follower YET

☔️RainyJ: 🙄 anyways 

RomanReigns: We might have to work on this little attitude of yours

☔️RainyJ: We don’t have to work on anything …

RomanReigns: Anyways … I have another question.

☔️RainyJ: …

RomanReigns: Is Rainy your real name?

☔️RainyJ: Yes it’s my real name

RomanReigns: What’s the J stand for?

☔️RainyJ: Johnson

RomanReigns: Well nice to meet you Rainy Johnson, I’m Leati Anoa’i but you can call me Joe. 

 Cute, Rainy thinks. 

…

“So he’s still messaging you?” Sabrina asks. Rainy is talking to her on FaceTime while cooking. 

“Yep” she laughs “It’s weird I don’t get why he wants to message me.”

“He must think you're cute or something, I bet he’s been on your profile” Sabrina says.

“He has.” Rainy turns from her stove and walks over to the counter where her phone is. She straightens it up on the stand she has it on so she can get a better look at Sabrina. “He was complaining the other day about my face not being in my pics.”

Sabrina starts squealing “He definitely thinks you're cute, swear you got Roman Reigns checking you out on insta.”

Rainy blushes, the thought has popped up in her head since she found out he’s been on her profile but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. She knows she’s not ugly but why would he choose her if he can basically have anyone. And she’s seen pics of his wife or ex-wife (Rainy is still not sure if that’s true and is scared to ask) besides the same skin tone they look nothing alike and she’s super girly, nothing is wrong with that but that’s the opposite of Rainy. 

“My face is not even in my pics so how would he know I’m cute?”

“Girl you're barely hiding your face, he can see your nose and lips in most of those pics. And he also can see your body. He probably thinks you're fine as hell and just wants a selfie of your whole face so he can get a full look at you.” Rainy rolls her eyes. 

“If you say so …” she says.

“Girl, he's a man, that’s what they do. I bet he said that shit for you to send him one but little does he know your stubborn as fuck. You need to post a pic, like do a face reveal or something so he can see it.”

“I’m not doing that, if we continue to talk and he actually asks for a pic I might send him one. But I’m not getting my hopes up about that. He might have someone new anyway if the rumors are true about his divorce.” Rainy walks back over to the stove to check her food.

“The rumors are true, besides when you sent him that post about him and that girl Kayla dating, why wouldn’t he say that instead of just saying no? And why would he even message you back?” Rainy has been wondering the same thing. 

“Hopefully he’s not a cheater because that would ruin his image for me.” One thing Rainy can’t stand is a cheater. 

“Only one way to find out.” Sabrina sings.

“If I get the opening I’ll ask, but until then I’m not asking that. He says this is a friendship so that’s what it is.”

“Friendship my ass,” Sabrina says, making them both laugh.

…

It’s been three days since Rainy last heard from Roman well Joe as he keeps telling her to call him. He’s just been asking her questions trying to get to know her. Rainy asks some herself but nothing too personal. She doesn't want to scare him off but she also doesn’t know how far she can go with her questions.

She’s been thinking over her and Sabrina’s conversations about the whole thing, and she can’t lie she would definitely be open to getting to know him better. Never in a million years did she ever think she would ever be in contact with him in any way. But here she is. She believes everything happens for a reason, and even though it’s hard to believe maybe this is her chance. Maybe she needs to start being a little more forward.

☔️RainyJ: So I have a question

She’s not expecting for him to reply back, it’s Friday afternoon and she knows Smackdown is tonight. But she sent the message before she could talk herself out of it. Not even a minute later he responds. 

RomanReigns: Go ahead and ask

☔️RainyJ: What made you want to continue messaging me? I know you said you caught a vibe but you still didn’t know if you could trust me, so what made you take the chance? 

It takes him a few seconds to respond, she sees that he’s writing and it disappears before it appears again. 

RomanReigns: Idk lately I’ve been feeling like I really don’t have anyone to talk to. Which is weird because I have a big family and I’m always around my cousins but I’ve just been dealing with some shit, you’ve probably heard about it and It just feels like no one gets it.

So he is single, Rainy thinks, good.

RomanReigns: When I first saw your message I was kinda pissed cause I was thinking why do people think they can just ask me personal questions, random people at that. Then the way you had it worded was off like it wasn’t a question for me. And I was sick of all the rumors and stuff going on so I was like fuck it I’ll answer it. 

RomanReigns: Wasn’t expecting to continue messaging you but you seemed genuine in your apology and then you didn’t even believe it was me, which made me curious. 

☔️RainyJ: Were you actually in a meeting bored when you messaged me back?

RomanReigns: Yeah

☔️RainyJ: Oh just wanted to know

She sees that he’s writing again and that disappears before appearing again. 

RomanReigns: Since I’m being honest and taking chances I will say even though I can’t really see your face, I like what I see from your pics. That made me want to continue messaging you too. 

Rainy screams and falls back on her bed. He is interested in her, well he at least finds her attractive. 

☔️RainyJ: Well I know how your face looks and I like what I see too

RomanReigns: Since we're being honest, is that the only reason I’m your favorite wrestler?

☔️RainyJ: No, I like that you didn’t give up when the fans turned against you and just made yourself the biggest heel and the face of the company. 

RomanReigns: Good answer

☔️RainyJ: And your ONE of my favorite wrestlers 

RomanReigns: lol okay I’ll be your ONLY favorite wrestler soon

☔️RainyJ: Keep thinking that

RomanReigns: I don’t think it I know it

☔️RainyJ: Okay

RomanReigns: So … are you single?

Rainy can’t stop the smile forming on her face, this can’t be real.

☔️RainyJ: Yes … I’m not gonna assume anything so are you single?

RomanReigns: YES

She definitely notices he sent that in all caps

☔️RainyJ: Good

Now she’s leaving it in his hands, if he wants to make a move he needs to.

RomanReigns: Remember how you asked me to go live and I did it?

☔️RainyJ: … yes

RomanReigns: So if I ask you to do something will you do it?

Rainy thinks about this for a second before replying.

☔️RainyJ: Depends on what it is

RomanReigns: Send me a pic of you, and don’t try to be funny I want a pic of your face

Bossy much, Rainy makes him wait for a couple of minutes before sending one

☔️RainyJ: sent picture

☔️RainyJ: Happy

RomanReigns: I’m very happy …

RomanReigns: Can you do something else for me?

☔️RainyJ: Once again it depends on what it is

RomanReigns: Give me your number?

Rainy falls back on her bed again, she can’t fuckin believe it!

Series List

Taglist: @tshepisho @thatone-girly @whatdoeseverybodywant

@eclectic-tee @wwefabfan @sassginaswanmills

@empressdede @scarlettnoir01 @headoftheetable

@llodinsonll

Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist (don't think I'm forgetting anyone if so I'm sorry and just lmk).

[joannasteez]

crying, laughing, loving, lying

pairing: roman reigns x angel (black oc) warning: lots of hallmark movie inspired cliches. talks of and descriptions about dating and dates, and romantic relationships in general. talks of divorce, death and grief. death of an animal (cruelty free). fluff. angst. eventual smut. mentions and possible detailed descriptions of drinking. all post/chapters that include explicit sexual content can be interacted with by persons 18 or older only. authors note: if you find yourself enjoying this little story in any way, don't hesitate or be afraid to like, comment and/or reblog, or even inbox me! i like to talk. the table of contents will be updated with every new chapter release. IF ANYONE WOULD LIKE A TAG FOR THIS SERIES LET ME KNOW UNDER THIS POST!!

SUMMARY

after the success of their blind date, angel and roman find themselves drawn to one another, and thus must reconcile past relationship troubles and turmoils to fully make themselves available to love again.

SOME WORDS

love is terrible, because the burden if it is absolute. but to feel and be undone by its fullness, is to live the greatest life. we all deserve to love, and to be loved.

TABLE CONTENTS

australian merlot - chapter one

being comfortable is no good - chapter two

[joannasteez]

*taps microphone*

i thought it would be nice to fill you all in on my WIP’s! i usually will share little snippets every now and them but, feeling generous today.

also!!! welcome to all my newest followers! when youre ready head over to my masterlist. i think theres a little something of everything to enjoy especially if youre a roman girlie, cody as well! and even a little cm punk

the john wick au for CODY is steadily in progress. a have a standard banner made but othet collages were recently made for me so ill drop those down below. theyre amazing. thanks so much to @crxssjae heres another little excerpt for your reading pleasure:

"they're blanks anyways", emptying the magazine as the faux bullets fall to the floor. your hand settling down the gun and its magazine on the coffee table. "just wanted to see how thin your patience has worn". 

your chin jutting over to the couch. hands full of medical supplies as you pad over to him softly. his body aching and slow as it rests into the tender leather of the seating, but moving without delay still. always under the gentle charm of your voice, his being falling under this servile sort of subjection. making him bristle silently within himself. all that time and distance amounting to nothing for his resolve. 

cody surrenders. mind over matter no longer needed. succumbing to the full weight of his pain. hair messy with red droppings of other peoples blood. his muscles sore and the hammering about his skull diligent and taunting. 

"my pain has always been a funny little joke to you". 

you pull the coffee table closer to the wide spread of cody's legs. your own slipping over to straddle the strength of one of his thighs. your body warm and comforting against his skin. an old feeling blooming in his chest. you were doing this on purpose. he's sure of it. to see him waver and yield to the charm of your presence. gentle touch tabbing to rid his cheek of dried blood before you went about cleaning the wound. his fingers itching to form to your body, desperate to push dull nails into your skin again. to form in and caress with the intent to renew his memory. 

your eyes flit to his crotch. "its a lot more than little. give yourself some credit", you muse. applying butterfly stitches. 

how do we feel about lumberjack!roman?… cuz im like 600 words in:

his beer is cold. wet glass slipping against his skin. a crisp hoppy taste on his tongue that settles till his belly excites with warm. the ache in his hands seeking a temporary remedy, holding to the chill of the bottle. thick fingers working with a diligent memory of axes and chainsaws. an all day affair thats old and tedious. the smell of walnut and oak and maple, chips of fly away wood and the hard sun. a good cold beer after a hard day was a must. mandatory. so friday's meant a beer plus two extra. but never four because jey always overdid shit and he had to be the dad of the group. had to take care of baby boy jey. and sometimes seth. and sometimes dean. because dean loved to play and fuck around, car keys jingling between his fingers, feigning the mind of a sober man. cackling and teary eyed, because panic about roman's face was just so fucking funny. 

hope everyones day is productive and safe!!💋

[joannasteez]

[joannasteez]

Y'all are amazing. Reblog to hug the person you’re reblogging from.

[joannasteez]

giggling and kicking my feet. also love the idea of this being silently and i guess a little subconsciously orchestrated on kia’s part. she knows the right buttons to press to get what she wants even if that something is roman being an absolute menace. BRAVAH as usual❤️

Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Title: Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Part: 3/4

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom: WWE

Characters: Roman Reigns, Kia Moore (OC)

Pairing: M/F, (Kia/Roman)

Synopsis: Kia pushes Roman too far. He has a unique way of expressing his displeasure.

Rating: 18+ E | Sex, Electrostimulation, Dark Humor, “Pleasure Torture,” Swearing, Humiliation kink, Established relationships, Brat Taming, Manipulation, Overstimulation, Consensual BDSM, Aftercare, Kia and Roman making a porno, basically

Note : This is a Kayfabe based story. Roman is The Tribal Chief, and it takes place during The Bloodline’s run as a stable. This fic, in particular, is set during Kia and Roman’s week long vaca in Pensacola. This is a work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story that is not my OC, Kia. Please don’t copy or repost. Credit to whomever owns the gif.

Part 1

Part 2

Your (Roman) based Playlist:

“Wanted” - Scarlet House

“The Hills” - The Weeknd

“Crawl” - Kings Of Leon

“Romance” - Varials

“Penetrate” - Godhead

“What’s the matter Kia? is showin’ out for the camera not fun anymore? do you wish you would’ve stayed out doin’ reckless shit with your braindead lil’ homegirls?”

Too blissed out by the intense current that was tearing through her body to think, Kia lifts her head weakly.

A sweaty, wrecked and debauched version of herself stares back at her through the screen of Roman’s iPad. 

She was on her hands and knees at the edge of Roman’s bed, with her chest pressed flush against the satin covered mattress. Her sheer, lavender panties were stuffed into her mouth. Bunches of his goose down comforter were twisted up in her fists and tears rolled down her cheeks, streaking through her makeup. 

Her black flare mini skirt was pushed up around her waist haphazardly, and her TLC graphic crop tank was tugged up over her breasts. The insides of her shaky thighs were stained with her release.

Roman was behind her with one foot on the floor and a knee propped up on the bed. He was working a smooth, silver, electrostim vibrator into her pussy with a slow, steady hand. He’d lost his shirt at some point, and his basketball shorts were slung low on his hips. 

He’d been wearing a mask of frigid indifference ever since she returned home. He hadn’t allowed her to kiss or touch him, and was damn near refusing to look her in the face. 

There hadn’t been any hushed words of praise or sweet pet names. 

No sweet nothings.

He’d pieced her apart systematically and slutted her the fuck out. 

Just like she’d silently dared him to when she knowingly blew off their date. 

Kia couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. She’d gotten everything she wanted and more.   

Roman was real good for making that easy.

Snatching the garment out of her mouth, Roman grips Kia’s jaw firmly and tilts her head up towards him. “This doesn’t mean you can speak.” He drags the vibrator out of her slowly, then inches it back inside. “Open.” His thumb ghosts over her bottom lip, tapping it lightly. 

Staring up at Roman absentmindedly as she parts her lips slowly, Kia clenches down around the toy and rocks her hips into his hand helplessly.

Sliding his hand down the length of her throat, Roman bends his head and spits into her mouth.“Spit.” He orders, gesturing to her chest. 

Leaning forward as much as she could, Kia slowly dribbles their shared saliva onto her breasts.

Having felt Roman’s heated gaze burning into her, She made a real show of it too.

Just for him. 

Roman’s fingers curl around her neck tightly. “…you make a real pretty mess, but it ain’t gonna save you this time,” He breathes, voice cracking. “cut the theatrics before I-”

“-M’just tryna be a good girl for you.” Kia croaks out.

Roman inhales sharply, head dipping. His eyes fall on her mouth and his jaw clenches.

Kia leans up, closing the small bit distance between them. “Ain’t I a good girl, Ro?” She presses, brushing her lips over his provocatively. “yours?” She goads, feeling pride surge in her when he flinches, snatches his hand away from her neck, and stills. “isn’t that what you want me to be-“

“-What’d I say about speakin’ to me?” Roman grabs the back of her neck, shoving her face back down into the mattress. “shut your mouth before I find sum’ else to put in it.” He gives one of her ass cheeks a sharp smack. “And get your ass back into the air where I had it. You got five seconds, so I suggest that you make that happen quickly. You wasted enough of my time last night.”

Trying desperately not to grin, Kia adjusts herself on her shaky knees and starts to push her backside further up. 

“You ain’t movin’ fast enough.” Roman hisses through his teeth, pushing the whirring device back into her until it filled her to the hilt. Sliding his thumb over the controls, he taps another button and it beeps. “But it’s okay, right? I got all day and all night to wait ‘cause I’m on your time, ain’t I?” 

Kia screams when another steady wave of teeth rattling energy pulses through her body.

“Everybody is. The whole fuckin’ world is on Kia Moore’s time and we all have nothin’ better to do but sit around, waiting for her.” Roman cracks his palm over the same ass cheek, giving it a hard squeeze. “It’s whenever you want,” He gives the abused flesh another stinging smack. “it’s whatever you say.” Smack. “It’s all.” Smack. “About.” Smack. “You.”

Left a sobbing, frustrated mess by Roman’s ministrations in mere seconds, Kia arches her hips away from him urgently.

“All you care about is you, Kia. The most important thing in this world to you, is you.” Grabbing a handful of Kia’s shirt to keep her from squirming away, Roman twists the material in his fist and yanksher up off her stomach. “you’re thoughtless and selfish.” He spits, holding her in place as he fucks her with the toy shallowly. 

Quivering violently, Kia bangs a foot down against the edge of the bed repeatedly as another powerful orgasm rips its way through her. 

“Say it. Tell me what you are.” Roman bites out, giving her a rough shake.

Kia’s chest heaves. “…Th-thoughtless and selfish.” She repeats, voice barely lifting to a whisper.

“Hm?” Roman murmurs into her ear, twisting the vibrator threateningly. 

“I’M THOUGHTLESS AND SELFISH!” Kia shouts, blinking back a fresh set of tears. 

Roman presses a tender kiss to the juncture of her neck. “Apologize.” He demands, biting down on the sensitive patch of flesh at her collarbone lightly. 

“I’m sorry!”

“Again. Say that shit with the same spirit you had when you were out there showin’ your ass “for the gram,” Kia.”

“I’m SORRY!”

“For?”

“For being thoughtless and selfish!!”

“Now say you love me.” Roman hovers his thumb over the “controls” button.

“I love you, Roman.” Kia cries, clenching her toes in tightly. “Baby, please-“

With a click, the pulsing stops completely.

“I love you too, Princess.” Roman purrs, dropping Kia onto the bed unceremoniously. Pinning her down with a hand pressed into the small of her back, he starts to pull the toy out of her carefully. “Apology accepted.”

Kia’s head drops into the blanket again and she lets out a sigh of relief, stilling completely. Her nerves were so shot that she felt like she was about to have a coronary. 

Tossing the toy aside, Roman grasps one of her legs and drags her down toward him, pressing his hips into her ass tightly. “You’re not gonna make me have to teach you this lesson again,” He cups her chin and tilts it back up to him. “are you?”

“No.” Kia whimpers, wiggling her hips in anticipation at the sensation of Roman’s dick twitching against the cleft of her ass.

“Happy to hear. I would really hate to have to.” Squeezing her hip tightly with one hand, Roman drags his sweatpants down his thighs with the other. “Now be a good girl,” He strokes his hand down the shaft of his dick, grasps it at the base, and slowly guides the head of it into her. “and show me why it’s worth forgivin’ you…”

A/N: Yes. I had a reference.

Let me know what you think…

-ink. 🖤

[joannasteez]

thanks so much for this lovely review btw!❤️

strong!

pairing: roman reigns x black reader warning: explicit sexual content after the "read more". degradation and pain kinks! talks of roman losing the undisputed title (a sore spot for some of you lol) authors: fic based on this post. nothing else really. give it a like, a reblog and a comment. let me know what you think! word count: 1300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade (others who have been asked to be tagged, your tag wasn’t popping up. not sure why)

the shameless scent of iron bothers him. blood about his nose. smearing through the delicate trim of his mustache. the cultivation of such a great mountain of hubris, shattered. undone and red, dripping easy to taint his tongue. 

the roar of the crowd deafens his ears. his skin slippery from sweat and his muscles tight with pain from the labor of a great defending and the cold. he lays there, pinned and defeated. a rapturous celebration about him, bright and lively but not for him. his stomach twisting sickly. 

the walk is long and silent. his ears ringing and split with an inward disdain. you sit comfortably in his dressing room. a disinterest in your eyes that sinks his heart. and all the words that refuse to pass through such pretty lips speak sharply to him still, through distinctive cuts about his face and taut reddened skin. an examination of him filled with pity. roman's stomach flips again, disturbed. he shuffles to a chair. breathy and his body loosely plopping against the seat. wallowing. you won't speak and he's wallowing. he feels bile in his throat. his eyes squeezing. an unceremonious rise before it falls back to the pit of his stomach. 

a tissue paper tears. wet and dabbing at where he bleeds. your eyes falling over him as you stand between the wide stretch of his legs. 

"you're bleeding...", you state. fingers curling in viciously to hold his jaw still, a harsh maneuvering that forces his eyes to meet you. softly dabbing stains of blood caked in his mustache still. the contrast making him weary. lightheaded. "...and without a title. what do you have to say for yourself?"

a ball forms in his throat. feverish heat over his skin. a stabbing pain behind the eyes that makes him bristle silently. of all the times to be so recklessly emotional. why now? why here? under such a thick blanket of silence and the scrutiny of your gaze. he was strong. he's still strong! so why does this feel like a great diminishing. a breaking from which he can not return whole again. your grip growing tighter. nails warring against the tenderness of overly worked skin. a stinging behind the thickness of his beard. water pooling steadily in his eyes. 

small and defeated. barely registrable. "i'm sorry". 

you near. perfume sweetening the iron scent in his nose. your breath warm over him. "speak. clearly". 

"im sorry", roman chokes. the syllables awkward and new off his tongue. 

a mirthless smile takes your lips. forming more and more disgusted by the second. "are you crying?", words like nails screwing into him. feeling worser than simple little drips of blood. "if you're gonna lose, at least do it well". 

you discard the tissue. stalk back to him with less venom in your eyes. taking his face to hold in your hands. the warmth in your palms uncomfortable. a cross examination done by the slipping over of your stare. an appraisal. your thumbs running over the freckled apple of his cheeks to assess. not to dote. like the inspection of a beaten trophy, to gauge how much he'd fallen into lack luster. your knee slips in to rest between the thick stretch of his thighs, pressing firm into the unsoftened way of his crotch. a slim sort of panic undulating over his skin. remembering the pierce in of your nails. the stinging it brought his skin. he much prefer that than you holding him with such fragility.

he was strong. he is strong! he can bare the pain. he was made to last. 

"my pitiful little loser", you tease. kissing along his face. a trail from his forehead down till you rest soft lips at the corner of his mouth. never giving him the satisfaction. giggling in his ear. 

the tips of his ears grow warm. probably red. "don't say that", he breaks. voice horse and tired. groaning as you take his face to grip again. the feed in of it into his skin tightening the space in his tactical cargo pants. 

"why?", fingers combing through wild hair to rough backwards. leaning over him. knee roughed into the ache of his dick. the spinning chair singing with a short creak as the back of it bends to take the weight of both your bodies. "that's what you are no? or are my eyes and ears mistaken? is your name cody rhodes?" 

soft pretty lips around another mans name. his chest tight. his breath heavy. panicked and vexed and excited. "don't say his-"

your knee presses in. forcing a grunt from his chest. your eyelashes fanning beautiful as your lips twist scornfully. "you don't have ground to stand on..", the seam of your lips faint over his. "...to tell me who i can and can't evoke. four years of good work", the displeasure rife on your tongue. "great work, gone because of some petulant playground bullshit revenge. are you happy with yourself at least?" 

roman feels high. like he can barely breathe. stomach coiling steady with a burning sort of ache. hands tingling with need. resigned to touching the handles of the chair instead. 

"no", he gives. a whisper. 

your brows pull. disbelief. your body standing straighter, your knee still pressed into him. his hips canting with ill-control. desperate for friction. "no?", your hand mushing his head. "no?!", sharper. angrier. "you did all that shit with a steal chair and you're not even happy? real shameful shit". 

roman's naked chest rises and falls. heavy breaths and pleading eyes. his pants too tight now for comfort. stomach twisting about horribly. his cock throbbing in his pants. 

your fingers slip delicate over his zipper. a slow release of it along with the buttons. the warmth in your hand gracious as you reach and fondle your way in his underwear. seeking the hard heat of him with your knee still pressed into his balls. his eyes dim and weary. "maybe the top of the mountain was too high for you", you give. an easy go of words at the corner of his mouth. a slight tremble in him as he spits over your hand, feeling you work him thoroughly with a sweet twisting in your wrist. "maybe winning for so long was too much", voice pitying. babied and teasing. like he was small and unfit. "you rather suffer without a crown, than bare the weight". 

a string of spit from your lips to the reddened tip of his cock makes a greater mess of him. the grip in your palm tighter by the second. warm and unrelenting. the base of his core nearly undone. 

"its easier being a coward than enduring".

his head shakes. he was strong. he is strong! perfectly made to endure. "i held it for four years". 

you laugh. he moans. his jaw lax and his muscles burning. "and now you're a loser", your thumb circling sweetly at his tip. his hips awkwardly rocking into the press of your knee. "the people saw you bleed. they saw you fail. main event status revoked". 

his fingers grow more weary. for the title. for a microphone to plead his case. for the supple touch of your skin. anything but the cold metal of this chair. 

"need to touch you". he pleads. desperate. nearly undone. 

"you don't deserve it", you clip. nearly kissing him. he can feel it. the hesitation of your lips. full and soft. hovering over dangerously. "be happy i'm giving you this". 

"please".

his spine throbs hard. a harsh rut in his hips as you stroke him tight. 

"you gonna finish? or is that gonna be a dud too".

and the relief is sweet. an unloading of his shoulders. bursting and full of heat as he comes against your hand. "go ahead", you relent. and his arms work swiftly. embracing your body as his damp face falls into your belly. lightly trembling. groans tumbling off his lips. 

he was strong. 1300 plus days. he is strong! made to last. 

[joannasteez]

giggling and kicking my feet!❤️

Goodnight Kiss

warning: nothing too crazy, mentions of lady parts tingling and a moan. But other than that, this is short and sweet : )

"I appreciate you taking me out tonight. That was the most fun I've had in a while," you softly smiled, feeling a giddy warmth as he walked you to your door. His smirk deepened as he glanced down, hands tucked casually into his pockets. His muscular figure towered over yours, if you hadn't known how much of a gentle giant he was, it was easy to feel intimidated.

This was your first date with Leati Joseph Anoa'i, affectionately known as Joe, the person you'd harbored a crush on since the 10th grade. Your accidental reunion at Robeks, your favorite smoothie spot, reignited those old feelings the moment you started chatting. And when he asked you out, you couldn't resist saying yes.

As the years passed, he evolved into a masterpiece, aging like the finest wine, each sip more intoxicating than the last. His once timid demeanor now exuded strength and confidence, drawing you closer with every step. His skin, now kissed by the sun, held a mesmerizing bronze hue, a far cry from the paleness of his youth. And oh, his facial hair, it contoured his face beautifully, emphasized every captivating feature. Perfect then, yes, but now, he was an embodiment of perfection beyond belief. Dressed in a sleek black suit, with a simple white T-shirt underneath, he oozed sophistication, the fabric clinging to his form, teasingly highlighting the muscles that yearned to be explored by your hands.

"I'm just glad I could bring a smile to your face, beautiful. You deserve it," he replied, his perfect smile causing a delightful blush to spread across your cheeks. He was absurdly charming.

"Well, I should probably head inside and get ready for bed. Early start at work tomorrow," you said, extending your arms for a hug.

He embraced you tightly, a playful squeeze making you squeal with laughter and him chuckle. Pulling back just enough, he paused for a bit before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then trailing his lips lower, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline.

Your body tensed, hands still clasped around his neck, caught in a moment of uncertainty and anticipation. The possibility of what he might do left you breathless, your first kiss looming on the horizon. Every beat of your heart echoed in the quiet space between you, something you swore he could hear.

It felt like paralysis. Every fiber of your being yearned to utter his name, to express the handful of sensations running through you, but your body betrayed you, rendered motionless, held captive by the potent spell he cast by his soft, plump lips. The feeling was both daunting and intoxicating, a thin line between fear and excitement.

He planted a sweet kiss on your nose before his fingers delicately lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. There was a silent exchange in his eyes, he paused with a lick of his lips and slightly shook his head in disbelief as his eyes slowly washed over your face.

"You are so damn beautiful, you know that?" he questioned, your heart fluttered at the compliment. You were thanking God that he blessed you with your deep melanin skin because your face would be as red as a cherry tomato. He was making you so nervous, you didn't even know how to respond.

"Think so?" you softly questioned, internally face-palming at your response.

With a nod, his features softened and his thumb brushed against your bottom lip.

"Know so." he responded with a breathy chuckle. Little did you know, you were taking away his breath as well.

He leaned in slowly, a hint of hesitation in his movements, silently offering you an opportunity to retreat if you wanted. But you leaned in as well, encouraging him to close the distance. His touch, initially gentle on your chin, migrated to cupping your face, while his left arm drew you nearer, enveloping you in his embrace. As his lips met yours, a wave of warmth surged through you, releasing the tension you had been holding. Your bodies melded seamlessly, and you found yourself swept away in the rhythm of the kiss. Though inexperienced, you gave in to the moment, surprised by the ease with which you followed his lead.

As if you weren't overstimulated enough, he moaned into your mouth, almost setting you ablaze. He made you want to tap out and it was only a kiss.

Sadly, you felt him slowly pull away but not without planting one last tender kiss against your lips. He still lingered close, his lips adorned with a gentle smile that spoke volumes of the connection you shared.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips.

"Goodnight.." you whispered back, trying to contain the whirlwind of emotions as your high school crush had given you your first kiss.

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

Omg okay, I don't want to overwhelm yall, let me know when to stop lololol

Also, anyone who wants to be added to the tag list please DM me!!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[joannasteez]

I SUPPORT KIA’S RIGHTS, but more importantly her WRONGS. lets all gather with our heads bowed as we offer up a word of prayer because my sistah ur gonna need it😮‍💨🙏🏽

Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Title: Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Part: 2/3

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom: WWE

Characters: Roman Reigns, Kia Moore (OC)

Pairing: M/F, (Kia/Roman)

Synopsis: Kia pushes Roman too far. He has a unique way of expressing his displeasure.

Rating: 18+ M | Sex, Electrostimulation, Dark Humor, “Pleasure Torture,” Swearing, Humiliation kink, Established relationships, Brat Taming, Manipulation, Overstimulation, BDSM, Aftercare

Note : This is a Kayfabe based story. Roman is The Tribal Chief, and it takes place during The Bloodline’s run as a stable. This fic, in particular, is set during Kia and Roman’s week long vaca in Pensacola. This is a work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story that is not my OC, Kia. Please don’t copy or repost. Credit to whomever owns the gif.

Part 1

Kia M.: Heyyyyy~ 🖤 Good morning handsome.

Kia M.: You’re probably mad as shit right now, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m safe.  

Kia M.: I know I fucked up by missing date night. I lost track of time because I had a too much fun with my girls last night, but that’s not an excuse. I should’ve said something when I figured out that I wouldn’t be home in time. I’m sorry for that, and I hope you can forgive me. I love you. 🖤

Roman R.: There was nothing good about my Morning, Kia.~ ❤️

Roman R.: I spent a good portion of it aggravating myself over you because you decided that you wanted to do cartwheels in the streets of Miami at 3 AM. ❤️

Roman R.: But I’m glad yours was. I hope you had a real good night, Sweetheart. ❤️ You looked like you were having fun.

Kia M.: Roman, don’t do that passive aggressive “masking” shit with me, please. 

Kia M.: I’m trying to communicate with you.

Roman R.: You had so much fun that you neglected to call the man that you’re in a relationship with to let him know that you were still alive. ❤️ After disappearing for 12+ hours. ❤️ When you were supposed to be home at 10 PM. ❤️ For a date night we planned 3 weeks ago. ❤️

Roman R.: What do you and your lil’ friends usually say? “I love that for you?” ❤️

Kia M: I got a little turnt and it slipped my mind, Baby. I didn’t mean to.

Roman R.: That isn’t acceptable at all, and you know that, but I appreciate your honesty. 

Roman R.: Where are you, Kia? 

Kia M.: Back in Pensacola, by Naomi and Jimmy’s. We stayed in a hotel after we left the party and drove back this morning. 

Roman R.: That’s real nice, dollface. ❤️ 

Roman R.: Did the two of you have an easy trip back? ❤️

Kia M.: You’re doing too much and you know you are. 

 Roman R.: Did you eat breakfast yet? ❤️

Roman R.: You should, you know. You’re gonna  need the energy. ❤️

Roman R.: Because passing out and/or throwing up is not going to help you once I get my hands on you. 

Kia M.: Idk what you want me to say. 

Kia M: I said I was sorry, okay? I made a dumb ass mistake by playing in your face like that, and I’m taking accountability. 

Roman R.: You don’t know what accountability is, Kia. That’s why you pulled that shit last night thinking that you could play in my face and get away with it. 

Roman R.: But you’ll learn. And I’ll make sure you do. 

Roman R.: I’ll see you when you get home, Princess. Try not to make me wait too long, okay? You ain’t gonna like it if I to have to come down there and find you. ❤️

Roman R.: I love you. ❤️

A/N: Please respect Kia’s hustle and salute a brave soldier when you see one. 😭

Let me know what you think,

-ink 🖤

[joannasteez]

Kissing On My Tattoos

warning: eehh, naur warning. Maybe just a sprinkle of a moan in there, but nothing harmful :)

Roman texting you while you're on a date has never been out of the ordinary. Especially if you had no interest in the guy.

A smile lit up Roman's face every time his phone buzzed, knowing it was a message from you, signaling that you weren't enjoying yourself.

Baby Girl💕: Can you come pick me up when he drops me off?

Biting his bottom lip, Roman typed the following words,

Sure thing baby girl. Just let me know when you get home.

His brown eyes brightened, he couldn't wait to see you. Just the thought of you made his heart race which he hated but loved at the same time. He just wanted to have fun. But you, oh, you yearned for something deeper, something more profound, especially with him.

When he confessed his attraction for you but made it clear he wasn't ready for anything serious, it broke you, leaving a bittersweet ache in your heart. Yet, you understood. Some people couldn't fathom the idea of commitment. And Roman, he was one of them.

He did put an offer on the table though, he put forth the idea of ya'll becoming friends with benefits. No strings attached whatsoever.

You were very hesitant and you thought about the offer for at least 2 weeks. You were putting your feelings on the line and knew it wasn't worth it but you really wanted to be with him. And if that was the only way you could have him, then so be it.

It's been 3 months since you've agreed and to be honest, you have enjoyed it. Besides the fact that Roman always.. and I mean always flirted with other girls in front of you. But hey, that's what you signed up for.

Before you knew it, you were dipping your toes into the waters of other men's attention. After all, if Roman was playing the field, why shouldn't you? The plan was simple: keep him around until someone else came along who truly made you feel the way he did.

Roman had picked up on it. Your absence hadn't gone unnoticed, not with you off on dates with other guys. And weirdly enough, he was feeling... jealous? Roman had never really been the green-eyed type, but lately, something was stirring inside him. He knew he shouldn't be, given he'd been messing around with other girls while fooling around with you. But still, that twinge of envy lingered.

He wanted you all to himself, plain and simple. Yeah, he knew it was selfish and unfair, but that's just how he felt, and nothing could shake that.

Lately, he'd been keeping his distance from the other girls he'd been seeing. It was like he was slowly cutting ties with them, realizing that his heart belonged to you and you alone.

Slipping into a black tee and his favorite Nike sandals, Roman checked his phone after getting a text from you.

Your date didn't go as planned, and now all you wanted was for Roman to bring back that smile to your face.

___

"Thanks for picking me up Ro, tonight was horrible.."

You collapsed onto his bed, sprawling out on your stomach. His scent enveloped you, his cologne mingling with the familiar smell of his sheets. You melted into the mattress, feeling completely at ease. Your muscles relaxed, and so did your mind. It was pure bliss.

He settled on the edge of the bed near your feet, releasing a heavy sigh.

"No problem, baby."

Internally, you melted. When he called you baby, it sent shivers down your spine, but you quickly reminded yourself that you probably weren't the only one he called that.

Before long, he was stretched out beside you, shirtless now. He propped his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. His mind seemed to be wandering, lost in a swirl of thoughts.

He couldn't bear the thought of anyone else having you, touching you, holding you, kissing you...None of it. The idea alone made him want to scream in frustration.

You noticed the look on his face.

"What's wrong?"

You hopped onto his lap, settling with your legs on either side, facing him.

"Nothing..."

"Don't lie to me."

He grinned and his hands found their way to your thighs. Instantly, your skin prickled with goosebumps, a familiar sensation whenever he touched you. Your body responded in ways that defied explanation or words.

He licked his lips, nearly making you squeal with anticipation.

"It's...just that I don't like seeing you with other men. It drives me absolutely in-fucking-sane," he expressed sternly. You could tell by the look of his face, he was serious. In fact, it almost felt like you were in trouble just from the way he looked at you.

Holding back a smirk you said,

"Well, I don't like seeing you with other women, but you're the one who came up with this Friend With Benefits crap,"

"I know, I know.." he sighed, running a hand over his bearded face.

"So, what are we going to do?" you asked. You honestly enjoyed this. He was finally giving in to his feelings.

His hands lazily trailed up and down your silky skin, relishing in the way you responded to his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

"We're going to be together because the thought of you being with someone else is eating me up on the inside,"

You awed him, grasping his hands in your own and placing them above his head. Leaning forward, you captured his lips with yours. The kiss was laced with a passion you've never felt before. You both took your time exploring each other's mouths, tongues fighting for dominance before he finally won.

As Roman's tongue teased a sensitive spot in your mouth, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, feeling a warmth pooling between your thighs.

Planting kisses along his shoulder, you traced the inked patterns on his skin, marveling at the details they whispered about his culture, his life.

When you found that sweet spot, he groaned, his grip on your hand tightening as you continued to hold them above his head.

"Baby.." he whispered breathlessly as you sucked on his sweet spot. You showed no mercy, nibbling and sucking until he was putty in your hands. Every stroke of your tongue against his inked skin sent shivers coursing through his body.

"Now, we aren't going to be together just because you say so. I really want you to drop those women, all of them. Prove to me that you want me and only me.." you murmured against his neck before sitting up, meeting his gaze head-on.

Roman pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes squinting slightly.

"Okay...I will."

Lightly slapping his chest, you glared.

"I'm serious, Roman. You're playing games and I'm not down with that anymore. I'm through being fuck buddies. Either you give me all of you or nothing at all."

Roman sat up, encircling his arms around your waist, pulling you close. He rested his forehead against yours, his desire burning beyond the physical; he wanted to claim you as his own. You were the only one who stirred these feelings within him, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing you just to play the field.

He was a fool for your pretty eyes and that smile. How'd he expect himself not to fall?

"I'm not lying, baby. I promise, I will drop them all for you."

He brushed his fingertips along the curve of your cheek, his minty breath teasing your lips as he inched closer.

"I don't have to worry about another woman's lips on your body?" you questioned, a hint of uncertainty in your eyes.

He tenderly kissed your lips, catching you off guard for a fleeting moment.

"Nope. I don't want nobody but you kissin' on my tattoos, baby girl.." he whispered, then leaned in to place a kiss on your temple.

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

Hope y'all enjoyed this small little one shot!

And please go read my last two one-shots if you haven't already. I enjoyed writing them and want you to enjoy reading them! Love ya'll, Muah!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @mzv11 @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx

[joannasteez]

got that roman fic outta my system…*cracks knuckles* now back to you cody

[joannasteez]

strong!

pairing: roman reigns x black reader warning: explicit sexual content after the "read more". degradation and pain kinks! talks of roman losing the undisputed title (a sore spot for some of you lol) authors: fic based on this post. nothing else really. give it a like, a reblog and a comment. let me know what you think! word count: 1300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade (others who have been asked to be tagged, your tag wasn’t popping up. not sure why)

the shameless scent of iron bothers him. blood about his nose. smearing through the delicate trim of his mustache. the cultivation of such a great mountain of hubris, shattered. undone and red, dripping easy to taint his tongue. 

the roar of the crowd deafens his ears. his skin slippery from sweat and his muscles tight with pain from the labor of a great defending and the cold. he lays there, pinned and defeated. a rapturous celebration about him, bright and lively but not for him. his stomach twisting sickly. 

the walk is long and silent. his ears ringing and split with an inward disdain. you sit comfortably in his dressing room. a disinterest in your eyes that sinks his heart. and all the words that refuse to pass through such pretty lips speak sharply to him still, through distinctive cuts about his face and taut reddened skin. an examination of him filled with pity. roman's stomach flips again, disturbed. he shuffles to a chair. breathy and his body loosely plopping against the seat. wallowing. you won't speak and he's wallowing. he feels bile in his throat. his eyes squeezing. an unceremonious rise before it falls back to the pit of his stomach. 

a tissue paper tears. wet and dabbing at where he bleeds. your eyes falling over him as you stand between the wide stretch of his legs. 

"you're bleeding...", you state. fingers curling in viciously to hold his jaw still, a harsh maneuvering that forces his eyes to meet you. softly dabbing stains of blood caked in his mustache still. the contrast making him weary. lightheaded. "...and without a title. what do you have to say for yourself?"

a ball forms in his throat. feverish heat over his skin. a stabbing pain behind the eyes that makes him bristle silently. of all the times to be so recklessly emotional. why now? why here? under such a thick blanket of silence and the scrutiny of your gaze. he was strong. he's still strong! so why does this feel like a great diminishing. a breaking from which he can not return whole again. your grip growing tighter. nails warring against the tenderness of overly worked skin. a stinging behind the thickness of his beard. water pooling steadily in his eyes. 

small and defeated. barely registrable. "i'm sorry". 

you near. perfume sweetening the iron scent in his nose. your breath warm over him. "speak. clearly". 

"im sorry", roman chokes. the syllables awkward and new off his tongue. 

a mirthless smile takes your lips. forming more and more disgusted by the second. "are you crying?", words like nails screwing into him. feeling worser than simple little drips of blood. "if you're gonna lose, at least do it well". 

you discard the tissue. stalk back to him with less venom in your eyes. taking his face to hold in your hands. the warmth in your palms uncomfortable. a cross examination done by the slipping over of your stare. an appraisal. your thumbs running over the freckled apple of his cheeks to assess. not to dote. like the inspection of a beaten trophy, to gauge how much he'd fallen into lack luster. your knee slips in to rest between the thick stretch of his thighs, pressing firm into the unsoftened way of his crotch. a slim sort of panic undulating over his skin. remembering the pierce in of your nails. the stinging it brought his skin. he much prefer that than you holding him with such fragility.

he was strong. he is strong! he can bare the pain. he was made to last. 

"my pitiful little loser", you tease. kissing along his face. a trail from his forehead down till you rest soft lips at the corner of his mouth. never giving him the satisfaction. giggling in his ear. 

the tips of his ears grow warm. probably red. "don't say that", he breaks. voice horse and tired. groaning as you take his face to grip again. the feed in of it into his skin tightening the space in his tactical cargo pants. 

"why?", fingers combing through wild hair to rough backwards. leaning over him. knee roughed into the ache of his dick. the spinning chair singing with a short creak as the back of it bends to take the weight of both your bodies. "that's what you are no? or are my eyes and ears mistaken? is your name cody rhodes?" 

soft pretty lips around another mans name. his chest tight. his breath heavy. panicked and vexed and excited. "don't say his-"

your knee presses in. forcing a grunt from his chest. your eyelashes fanning beautiful as your lips twist scornfully. "you don't have ground to stand on..", the seam of your lips faint over his. "...to tell me who i can and can't evoke. four years of good work", the displeasure rife on your tongue. "great work, gone because of some petulant playground bullshit revenge. are you happy with yourself at least?" 

roman feels high. like he can barely breathe. stomach coiling steady with a burning sort of ache. hands tingling with need. resigned to touching the handles of the chair instead. 

"no", he gives. a whisper. 

your brows pull. disbelief. your body standing straighter, your knee still pressed into him. his hips canting with ill-control. desperate for friction. "no?", your hand mushing his head. "no?!", sharper. angrier. "you did all that shit with a steal chair and you're not even happy? real shameful shit". 

roman's naked chest rises and falls. heavy breaths and pleading eyes. his pants too tight now for comfort. stomach twisting about horribly. his cock throbbing in his pants. 

your fingers slip delicate over his zipper. a slow release of it along with the buttons. the warmth in your hand gracious as you reach and fondle your way in his underwear. seeking the hard heat of him with your knee still pressed into his balls. his eyes dim and weary. "maybe the top of the mountain was too high for you", you give. an easy go of words at the corner of his mouth. a slight tremble in him as he spits over your hand, feeling you work him thoroughly with a sweet twisting in your wrist. "maybe winning for so long was too much", voice pitying. babied and teasing. like he was small and unfit. "you rather suffer without a crown, than bare the weight". 

a string of spit from your lips to the reddened tip of his cock makes a greater mess of him. the grip in your palm tighter by the second. warm and unrelenting. the base of his core nearly undone. 

"its easier being a coward than enduring".

his head shakes. he was strong. he is strong! perfectly made to endure. "i held it for four years". 

you laugh. he moans. his jaw lax and his muscles burning. "and now you're a loser", your thumb circling sweetly at his tip. his hips awkwardly rocking into the press of your knee. "the people saw you bleed. they saw you fail. main event status revoked". 

his fingers grow more weary. for the title. for a microphone to plead his case. for the supple touch of your skin. anything but the cold metal of this chair. 

"need to touch you". he pleads. desperate. nearly undone. 

"you don't deserve it", you clip. nearly kissing him. he can feel it. the hesitation of your lips. full and soft. hovering over dangerously. "be happy i'm giving you this". 

"please".

his spine throbs hard. a harsh rut in his hips as you stroke him tight. 

"you gonna finish? or is that gonna be a dud too".

and the relief is sweet. an unloading of his shoulders. bursting and full of heat as he comes against your hand. "go ahead", you relent. and his arms work swiftly. embracing your body as his damp face falls into your belly. lightly trembling. groans tumbling off his lips. 

he was strong. 1300 plus days. he is strong! made to last. 

[joannasteez]

would do egregious things to swap places with amanda

Roman Reigns x Amanda (fem!black!oc) | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~2,600 words

a/n: As y'all know, I have a million Roman drafts and I found this first draft of "The Waiting Game" from last spring. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

Happy reading! Read more Roman and Amanda or my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

The full moon hung in the dark sky, the stars barely visible as the Manhattan lights created their own nighttime glow. As she strolled down East 35th Street, Amanda soaked in the feeling of being in New York City for the first time. Immersing herself in new places was just one of the many perks of her job at WWE as their SmackDown ring announcer.

Before she landed her dream job, she hadn't ventured much outside of her home state of Georgia. Now she made it a point to reserve time after work to explore the food and nightlife each city she landed in had to offer. It made spotting the iconic Empire State Building with its windows glittering like lights on a Christmas tree feel extra special to her as it stood above the horizon of towering buildings. 

The evening air was cool and brisk, blowing her longish, red auburn afro off her bare shoulders and lifting her strappy, silky, pink-blue dress to reveal her thick, brown thighs to oncoming traffic. Amanda yanked her dress down and pulled her black, faux-fur coat tighter around herself to shake the chill as she continued down the street, her slingback heels clicking with her every step. Suddenly, she felt a heavy arm drape over her and bring her in close to the broad, warm body it was attached to. She glanced up at Joe as he walked alongside her, his overwhelming heat instantly calming her shivering body. The way he held her as he gazed down at her with his wolfish, chocolate-colored eyes made her almost swoon.

“Could you tell I was gettin' cold?” she asked him with a little smile.

“I figured as much since your coat doesn’t cover your legs,” he replied, giving her an admirable once-over. “I mean, you look beautiful in this dress. But I know it’s not keepin' you warm.”

“I think you’re warm enough for the both of us,” Amanda said, poking him in the ribs and making his handsome face break into a smile that matched hers.

That was another perk she treasured about her newish job. She got to rub shoulders—in this case, literally—with pro wrestlers she’d only ever seen on TV. She’d been a big fan of Joe, or Roman Reigns, and now she was being paid to announce him as the undisputed WWE Universal Champion and Tribal Chief of The Bloodline as he sauntered to the ring with his golden title belts, surrounded by his entourage consisting of his cousins, the Usos, and the legendary manager, Paul Heyman. Amanda felt like she was quickly becoming a part of Roman’s off-screen entourage as he was one of the first people to befriend her—encouraging her to call him Joe, his real name, instead of his stage name—and make her feel welcomed on the job.

Yet she could tell right away Joe was a huge flirt. He proved her right as they became fast friends with a salacious spark always simmering between them. It was the way he’d be glued to her hip at after-work parties or invite her to his locker room to kill time before work…or the way they almost kissed once. 

For two months, Amanda tried to ignore that spark as she didn’t want to put her dream job in jeopardy by screwing around with WWE’s top guy. But she found herself hopelessly and agonizingly attracted to Joe, often yearning for much more than a kiss from him...

She had gotten used to working out her sexual frustrations by herself, fantasizing late at night about how deep Joe’s dick could fit if he had her on all fours. She certainly didn’t expect to find out last night in his locker room when he bent her over and wore her out to the point that she felt compelled to call him “Daddy”—a fan-given nickname of his that she despised until he had her moaning it to him over and over—and send her on her way to ring with no panties, her pussy still tender from him stretching her out.

While she was still a little delightfully sore between her thighs, she couldn’t deny that she craved him all over again. And when Joe messaged her earlier in the day and asked her out to dinner, saying he wanted to “treat” her tonight, it was obvious that he craved her, too...especially with the seductive questions he sent her about her fascination with being dominated and her favorite toys. Amanda knew then he had more in mind than just a bite to eat...

As Joe held the door to the steakhouse open for her, she already felt pampered by the restaurant’s red and gold elegance and yummy smells wafting through the air. The kind hostess led them to their table, covered with white linen and softly lit by a candle, in the center of the dining room. Amanda noted how Joe took her coat and purse, placing them on the back of her leather chair before he pulled it back for her like a gentleman. He then sat across from her and studied her in her dress with those hungry eyes that seemed to see right through it, ready to devour what was beneath.

She had the same thoughts as she gazed back at him, soaking in how gorgeous he was in his navy suit jacket and baby blue button-down that almost strained to conceal his muscles beneath them. He’d trimmed his full, salt-and-pepper beard and mustache since yesterday, and slicked back his long, dark hair into a cute, messy bun behind his head, making his tanned, angular face appear more chiseled and menacingly handsome...and making Amanda want to let his hair loose and run her fingers through it as he hid his head between her legs...

“Can I just say how good you look right now? Like...good enough to eat,” Joe spoke, his deep voice a subtle growl. It was like he could read her mind, she thought in awe as her lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Don’t tempt me. We can skip dinner and go straight to dessert,” Amanda half-joked. She wanted to eat but Joe looked so good, too, she could go for his dick in her mouth rather than steak...

“Nah, we’re gonna eat. You’ll need the energy,” Joe replied coolly, flashing her a devilish smirk right back.

“Just me?” she chimed. 

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, his sultry eyes on hers before they fell to her shoulders and cleavage from her big breasts pushed together in her scoop neck dress. When he gradually brought his eyes back to hers, she bit her lip as he added in another low growl, "I have plans for you tonight, sweetheart.”

She raised one arched eyebrow at his words, yet when she opened her mouth to hopefully uncover what those “plans” were, their waiter arrived with menus, a tray that held two wine glasses, and a bottle of Pinot Noir chilling in a gold bucket of ice. Once he poured them each a glass, took their order, and went to check on another table, Amanda gave Joe a curious glance.

“Do those plans include you fuckin' me in the restroom?” she asked softly, testing the vibe. Amanda didn’t think he’d care about getting nasty in public after backstage. Her pussy was getting wet from the mere thought of him curving her over the restroom sink. “We’re, like, the only ones here…and I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

She deliberately ignored the two other occupied tables that were thankfully out of earshot. Yet she watched Joe's mouth and eyes widen a bit from her unabashed lust for him. But then his lips twisted into a grin as he said in a near whisper, “I see you didn’t learn your lesson last night. Well, I learned you can’t keep quiet while I’m in you, baby.”

He had a point, Amanda thought to herself. They had never touched before yesterday and yet Joe seemed to know how to make her lose herself and forget her surroundings. And that was why she couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her again...no matter the risk.

“Let me prove to you that I can…” Amanda whispered back. She’d do her best to keep the patrons in the dining room blissfully unaware. She hoped the way she discreetly tugged at her dress and exposed more of her cleavage would entice him. She saw Joe take the bait, glancing at her breasts with a mischievous glint filling his eyes. He then wrapped his fingers around his wine glass and took a long sip, like he was considering it. She suddenly realized needed his fingers around her throat like that...

“I know for a fact you can’t. So, I guess you'll have to wait,” he declared, his voice playful yet firm enough to make her realize she was pressing her luck. She swallowed a healthy swig of her wine and decided to press that luck further, anyway. 

“And what you gonna do if I don't want to?” she asked, catching a drop of wine from her top lip with her tongue. Her tone was half-pouting as she pursed her full, pink, glossy lips, half-challenging him to get back at him for teasing her. He let out a dark chuckle at her defiance as he put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, staring at her with a grin like he was impressed that she dared him. 

“You tryna find out?” Joe asked, his tone a little sinister.

“Hell yeah,” she replied, doing a poor job of containing the excitement in her voice.

Joe glanced at the watch on his wrist before he demanded, “Then get up and act like you're goin' to ladies' room...”

Amanda wasted no time obeying the demand she wanted to hear, hopping up from her seat and trying to look normal as she made her way to the single-occupancy restrooms. She couldn’t believe she was about to get her way when she learned last night what a stubborn, sexy jerk Joe could be. 

Yet he did make her wait for what felt like five minutes before she saw the door open and him slip in, locking the door behind himself. Her patience to feel his mouth on hers had already run out and she took the initiative to reach for him. But Joe abruptly caught her forearms and spun her around, pinning her against the wall with his large hand around her throat. 

“So you couldn’t wait 'til later, huh? You need me in this pussy right now?” Joe snarled in a steamy whisper before he brought his lips to hers. 

“Yes, please…please fuck me,” Amanda pleaded in a whisper just as heated, her body trying to melt from his grip tightening on her throat and his soft lips on hers that curled into a devious smile. She’d never been so desperate for dick that she’d beg for it, but his effect on her was consuming, breathtaking even. “Please...fuck me...Daddy,” she panted and brought her hands to his chest, his nickname on her tongue making him pant back as he kissed her harder.

“How do you want Daddy to fuck you?” Joe cooed in her ear as he dropped his hand from her throat to her breast, fondling it and tweaking her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress before his lips found their way around it. She whimpered to him in response before his hand fell lower on her body and under her dress. Amanda moaned softly again as he suckled her nipple with his fingers teasing over the wet mess that was her thong, teasing his thick, middle finger past it to fit inside her with one, long fluid thrust. He let out a satisfied sigh when it glided in with such ease, his lips smudged to her chest and then her neck with kisses before he murmured to her, “I’m still waitin' for you to tell me how you want me in this pussy, baby…”

“I want—”

“It doesn't fuckin' matter what you want,” Joe cut her off with his finger seeking her spot, his touch swirling on it as he reminded her in a hushed grunt, "I tell you what to do. Not the other way around, sweetheart. Understand?"

“Oh, my god,” Amanda almost cried instead when he rolled his thumb over her clit as he continued to swirl his finger on her g-spot. It dawned on her that his plans to treat her involved whipping her into submission as he controlled her with simply the palm of his hand. 

She bit down on her bottom lip to choke back a moan as she helplessly looked up at Joe. She could see it in his eyes that he knew he had her right where he wanted her: Incapacitated and at his mercy. She could hear it in his voice when he stated gruffly, “Try that again, sweetheart..."

“Unghh...yes, Daddy.” 

He watched Amanda mewl to him and nod as he pushed in another finger, his languid, elongated strokes becoming quick and pounding on her spot that was giving in to his torture and giving way to those hot, quivering tingles that spread throughout her entire body. She squeaked in a failed attempt to hold in a moan as he nurtured her sweet spots until it was futile, his kisses barely catching her gasps.

“Damn…you cummin’ for me already?” Joe breathed a dark laugh but followed it with a light moan as one of her hands slipped from his chest to the seat of his slacks that protruded with his bulge. Yet he refused to let Amanda have any control, plucking his hand that was on her hip to snatch away her grasp and pin it to the wall above her head. “Naw, don't worry 'bout that. This is what you get since you couldn't wait...this right here.” 

His fingers pumping and swirling on her spot kept up with the rapid fluttering of her pussy around them, only slowing down when Amanda's gasping moans teetered into airy whines. She wanted to curse for him making it too good, making her thighs tremble around his wrist, and making her want to cry when he tugged his fingers out. He then checked his watch like his fingers weren't about to drip her wetness to the tile, smirking at her mess on them. He kissed her with a flick of his tongue that he carefully replaced with his fingers as he held her jaw with his other hand, watching her slowly suck them until her lips touched his knuckles.

"It tastes how Daddy makes you feel, don't it? Good as fuck..." Joe uttered with one more wet kiss that Amanda nodded and moaned into before he swiftly went to wash his hands and open the restroom door. “I’m pretty sure they’re about to bring out our food, so you might wanna hurry and clean up.” 

The way he left her with his conceited smile and her panties soaked made her finally suck in a long, shuddering breath before she exhaled, "Goddamn, Joe..."

She palmed the wall to steady herself as she removed her thong and wobbled over to the sink where she tossed them in the bin, pumped soap into her hands, and ran them under cold water to cool herself down. It felt like prying eyes could see the orgasmic glow still radiating from her body as she made her way back to the dining room. But Amanda knew it was only Joe who couldn't take his eyes off her, that sexy smirk on his lips as she slunk towards him. Their ribeye steaks and roasted potatoes looked scrumptious but he continued to observe only her as she fell into her seat.

“So. You gonna behave now, sweetheart?” he asked haughtily as he slid a piece of his steak into his mouth. 

"That depends." Amanda unfolded her napkin and picked up her knife to cut her steak. The sharp edge reminded her of how Joe responded to her pushing her luck...and she caught his eye as she decided to dare him once more with a lick of her lips. "Are you gonna finish what you started and let me throw it back on you? Or are you afraid you won't keep quiet this time?

.

.

.

Dare

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[joannasteez]

Blackwater XIX

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: well I said a couple of months ago that something was toxic… there’s a lil bit of non-con this time, so if someone of you is not ready, im sorry, is that chap.

A/N: this chapter wasn't very easy to write, but the next ones won't be either, let's wish each other good luck.

She had hoped to go somewhere else, but with problems piling up day after day doing so wasn't even an option. It was safer to stay south, where their reservation still acted as a natural stop to any external influence coming from across the border, plus Roman was in the area, though again not there with her, having yet another meeting with yet another person for yet another deal.

She hadn't been very happy about it at first, but had to admit at least to herself that maybe it was for the best. In town she had finally found something she could bring to Lisa to thank her and plus they were relatively close home, which meant they would be there before night and she could go to bed to recover a bit.

The stress caused by the situation did not help either her mood or body already affected by hormonal swings of a heat that Y/N prayed to postpone as long as possible. She wasn't sleeping well due to too many thoughts, she was losing her appetite, as well as the desire to go running and that afternoon she had another one of her waves of shivers which was trying to fight with some hot chocolate in an attempt to also replenish a sugars. She had bought Solo a coffee too, but he kept holding it in his hand without drinking, too busy glaring at anyone who dared come closer than necessary, that was not even so close.

- You didn't grow up here, did you? – she asked, interrupting silence between them once again, because they spent a lot of time together, but even if he seemed willing to talk with her, their conversations were never long.

He looked at her a bit confused, putting aside his perpetual serious face for a moment, coffee still in his hand.

- Jimmy said you came here after, like me – she explained, letting out an encouraging smile and he shook his head no.

- I grew up in the area, with my family.

Y/N let out a surprised oh, going back to twirling the straw in silence as they walked towards the suv.

From the stories she had thought he had come from out of state to help Roman, but she probably misunderstood. She hadn't spent much time with Solo's family, she had only seen them once actually and he didn't open up more than necessary, most of the time talking about what there was to do during the day, well she talked, he was more comfortable listening.

- Not with them. They were always together somewhere. – he added unexpectedly, perhaps not to make her uncomfortable with another silence or perhaps not to make her feel so out of place and Y/N smiled gratefully.

Y/N saw him nod slightly, as if satisfying her had satisfied him too.

She had never really thought about it, but there was an age gap between him and those three. Now he was a big boy with muscles and a menacing look, in those years he had probably just been a kid that them didn't want around. She couldn't imagine what it was like, Y/N hadn't had any brother or sister, she had grown up alone, but the half year spent with all of them before the chaos was enough for her to understand. Maybe he couldn't have tolerated them as a kid, always together already as pack leaving him at home and doing their own business, but now he was a man, it was different.

His family is broken.

- I'm sorry, Solo...

Standing next to the black suv, he looked at her, again confused by her reaction.

- We have to do what needs to be done.

- They're your brothers no matter what.

- I swore to the Tribal Chief. They did it too. – he said serious, his tone almost angry.

In packs like theirs, still tied to old laws and traditions, it was normal to have a relationship of deep respect with those at the top. Those were legacies that were now intertwined with a changed society but still subject to natural balances, such as the amendment on property rights between mates and social hierarchies for those who belonged to or were born from groups not commonly seen well. Y/N, with her omega smell, knew a lot about it and had had to deal with it there too in the first few months, but the prospect of an acknowledgment, oath, was new and something she hadn't heard.

She saw Solo open the door to let her in, his face less angry, but still solemn.

- You don't have to – he reassured her, mistaking her silence for concern, dark round eyes stopping too long lower, at the base between her neck and shoulder, where Y/N had tightened her jacket trying to send away the cold shivers – you already have his… smell.

Smell wasn't the word he wanted to say, but what Solo was referring to, she didn't have yet.

Our mark. His mark.

That too was an old legacy, dangerous in her case, but Y/N didn't have time to think too much about it by looking for her phone which in the meantime had notified of a message.

***

Paul was a smart man. Roman had chosen him as a wise man for that very reason. There was no one in the entire country more capable than him, no one who had his level of experience. He was a lawyer, an advisor, a connoisseur, he had political support, important acquaintances within the packs and outside, plus his family had practically adopted him when he was a boy, so he was not a stranger. The wise man was many things, but honest only when necessary and Roman had never had a problem with that kind of approach in their time together. He tolerated all sorts of expedient for his purpose, he had learned the hard way how much it cost to have feelings, but everything changed if those tricks helped something of which he was not made aware.

Because Roman knew from years and life lessons. Loyalty and trust were something he no longer expected, from anyone and certainly not from someone who had stayed afloat when everyone else drowned. Everyone could be a friend, everyone could be an enemy, his wolf now did no exception and all the whispers, phone calls and messages that kept Paul busy even when they were together were nothing but further proof of a picture that he knew. The wiseman acted driven by the feeling of ground crumbling beneath their feet, frightened by changes that his cousin and those dogs on the border threatened, by the possibility of a future that Roman would not allow as long as he was able to breathe. He loved the wise man, he could forgive him being a coward, pretending not to see, at least until he took a step too far.

- So? – he asked annoyed, almost making the phone fly out of his hand.

- Two weeks. Tomorrow both of you will exchange the sogi – he reported in a heavy voice, his shoulders low, his face frowning as if someone had just stepped on him after the news.

He didn't like the prospect of that fight, first of all because he was risking his head. Roman knew even without having to ask that he would play his cards to make things better and save everything, but for him the two weeks he had dealt were too much time and those plans useless. Fourteen days were the ritual time to provide what was necessary for families, so that both parties were ready for any outcome, but for him were just a useless wait. He wouldn't be the one to lose, he had no alternatives to plan unlike Jey, he just needed to have free way and get his hands on his cousin.

- About the stipulations, I was thinking- he advanced, trying to recover as much as possible.

- There are none.

- My Tribal Chief, if I may, considering what we are facing now, it would be better to leave a few more resources and perhaps-

- There will be no stipulations.

He had complied with stipulations, conditions for weeks, suffered weakness for months, the time for mercy was over. He had left many doors open for his cousins, he had tried everything and Jey however had gone where he shouldn't, disrespecting him to the point of contesting him with the Elders, they had gone too far and now there was only one way to put an end to it. The only acceptable stipulation was unconditional surrender, total humiliation, there was nothing else to talk about. Guts were needed to keep their family in line, his dad had reminded him of this and Roman was not willing to receive other reminders in the future, he was no longer a boy. Whatever happened next, he would handle it the way he handled everything, with a firm grip and without regard, he didn't need those two to do it. He was the alpha, he had control and winning cards to play against everyone.

- How much longer do we have to stay here? – he asked, tired of waiting, staring with annoyance at the watch on his wrist.

They had been in that office longer than he was willing to tolerate and he couldn't stand listening to the wise man calls or him typing messages anymore, he didn't have all day to waste signing a deal with the governor. He had to train, dedicate the next fourteen days focusing on the goal, not sitting bored in a chair waiting for a paper that should have already been ready the second he set foot in that building.

- I'm going to immediately check where Pearce has ended up, my… – the wise man snapped to attention, but he barely managed to turn to go towards the door – tribal… chief.

Roman smelled him before even moving his gaze to the man accompanying Pearce. He had no idea who he was, he didn't remember his face if they had ever met before, but he had a smell that he didn't like. He didn't like the smell of him, he didn't like the way was staring at him, he didn't like the attitude and he sure as hell didn't like that he came around when he had business to do.

We don't like him.

- Reigns.

Pearce greeted, already adjusting glasses on his nose, his expression stressed as always. Roman didn't even look at him, focused on observing the new arrival who was already taking place at the table without having been invited. Pearce had that same attitude in the past, a couple of years ago, until Roman had taken it away from him in his own way and since then had never reappeared. He almost wanted to do the same with that new guy.

- What’s this idea Mr. Pearce?! It was supposed to be a private meeting for private business! Very important business! It's unacceptable! – complained the wise man, standing up against that lack of respect.

- Our new neighbors have informed the governor of activities across the border. It seemed right to him to invite Mr. Aldis as a delegate to clarify before signing anything. He’s in charge of that area now.

That's what he was. Another puppet, another well-dressed small dude convinced to have power or a chance against him, thought he was worth something, that he could stand face to face with Roman, thanks to the talks of those idiots to whom his cousins had left the field free. They were becoming arrogant, stupidly brave, throwing in his face that he had lost his hold in the north and that now there were others there. They hadn't gone too far yet, keeping everything legal, moving with what they could to make their voices heard, their new influence known, but Roman was fine with those games as long as they didn't go beyond the limit. And the limit was his patience running out.

- Since you no longer have jurisdiction there and the upcoming Bloodline activities threaten the entire area, restrictions must be established for the future. Real restrictions Mr. Reigns that I will take care of enforcing and making clear to you. Without it, nothing new will be authorized. – the new dude, Aldis, announced, openly defying his influence, head held high and the wise man behind him jumped.

They wanted to authorize him.

- How dare you- he screamed, but Roman simply raised a finger to silence him, the other hand gripping the chair.

That tanned, smug face of him would have looked perfect smashed onto his table or on the floor, better under his foot.

They wanted to play the big game, gamble when he already had more important business to take care of. It was almost hilarious, almost because that little game would be short-lived. He would let them do it, for a while, until Jey got what he deserved since everything that was happening was his fault. That was what happened if they left their side exposed, if they allowed a pack of strays to smell weakness, it was the price to pay for a crack and the reason Roman would have no more second thoughts.

Elders were right, he had to focus, do what he had to do and what he had been chosen for. He couldn't afford any more weaknesses or they would become ready and able to bite his throat.

- Go ahead – he conceded, collecting himself.

He would get rid of them one by one, blood of his blood or not. Without mercy.

***

She had sought comfort between now cold sheets smelling of him, curling up her legs for extra warmth, keeping her eyes tighter to ward off thoughts ready to fill her mind, but hadn't made it and her she-wolf had found Roman through the link. She had sensed him immediately, probably because he wasn't shielding anything believing that she was still asleep and Y/N had snuck out to join him in the dim light of his home office.

Mate is not here with us.

He was sitting on the couch with a solitary lamp, his face serious, fingers running through the seeds of his necklace. He was physically there, but his head was somewhere else as happened too often now. In the house he always kept the ulafala in the case, but Y/N didn't need to ask to know why he was there staring at it when he was supposed to be resting by her side, in their bed. Paul had told her as soon as he received the news, keeping to their agreement or perhaps already seeking help and Y/N had finally given a deadline to the anxiety that was weighing on her.

Fourteen days of peace before chaos, before completely crumbling what was left of the family, but in a few hours it would truly become inevitable. Or it was probably already late judging by Roman's face.

- Will you have to wear it? – she asked in a whisper, entering the room almost on tiptoe.

He hadn't told her anything about how the meeting would take place nor had he added anything about the fight, but she couldn't blame him. She had promised to stand by him, to defend him, yet she hadn't reacted well to his drastic change of plans and he didn't seem to really understand why she hadn't accepted it. What had happened was serious, but what could happened next would be even worse. Standing, she watched him keep his gaze fixed on the symbol of sacrifices, of his role and pains without turning to look at her and she too observed it, perhaps expecting a revelation.

Red for power, seeds for the rebirth of the dynasty.

She knew the value and pride behind that object, Roman had told Y/N all the stories about the ulafala, but no matter how hard she tried in her eyes it was only a necklace left weighing him down. It should have given him strength, conveyed his strength, represented the family future and instead he found himself fighting to keep it around his neck, to keep what he had gained after an argument born from unpleasant circumstances and degenerated due to old grudges.

- I earned it, represents me – she heard him reply, because in his mind it was the only thought.

She felt it, she knew it. He felt his efforts, sacrifices threatened and they were, but Y/N still felt like it wasn't Jey or Jimmy who was the real danger. At least not initially, now everything was a danger, even the elders who were supposed to accompany and advise him. Them all had fallen into a trap were building with their own hands and she couldn't resign herself to the sight of that disaster.

He's not just that for us.

- You don't need it – she reminded him, stopping looking at the ulafala to focus on him.

She saw him inspire with frustration, felt annoyance pass through him at the mere idea of continuing that conversation, his eyes far from hers.

- Go back to bed Y/N.

- Come with me then, is not mornin yet – she insisted, refusing to give up.

They had different opinions, different approaches, it had always been like that and perhaps it would never change, but they were on the same side. She didn't want to go back to their room if he wasn't there, didn't want to sleep if he wasn't there, she had been alone for too long to throw away moments, to wait two weeks to pass and then hope to go back to what they had before. She trusted Roman, she had never trusted anyone like him, but it wasn't going to end up with Jey and Y/N was honestly afraid of the aftermath he talked about. The threats were different, without blood ties and were just waiting the right moment to attack him, they wanted to get him out of the way and take everything, not just his role. No one can get rid of a weed without pulling out its roots. It had already happened with her family and now can happen again because he was focused just on what was in front of him. But she couldn't wait for the inevitable, it wasn't in her nature to do what she had to do or what he wanted, she existed to do what he couldn't.

She saw him stay silent, sign he had no intention of moving. So she stood in front of him, slipping the ulafala from his fingers without asking. That move finally forced him to raise his head, trying to understand what was happening, while she carefully placed it back in the case where he kept it and then went back to the couch. She listened him breathe heavily, scratch his dark beard with a grimace, and she sat down on his lap to take up the entire view.

- Ain't doing this talk once more – he stopped her soon, shaking his head.

- Not even if im the one asking? – she tried, seeing him immediately clench his jaw.

- Im doing it for you, for us, all! I told you and you said we were on the same side, now what?!

- I'm not taking anything back. I'm just worried it’s already too much – she confessed, not really knowing how else to explain the feeling in her.

Maybe she was giving in to the hormones, anxiety, or maybe was the fact she hadn't cared about others in years like she did now for him, but it was all happening so fast and whether Roman was ready to admit it or not, he was losing control and not facing things with a right mindset. Those outbursts of anger, the way he turned against everyone, judgments, drastic solutions, he was getting carried away by the desire for revenge and his justice. He kept saying he was doing it for them, for their future and instead seemed like a pretext to rush towards other problems. They didn't need acknowlegment, a border to build anything, they were fine, everything worked when it was just them, together. They had never been happier than in the time spent getting to know each other, digging their bond out of the dust and strengthening it. Life certainly couldn't be made up only of moments like those, dates and runs in the woods, but things could certainly have been different.

- Whatever it takes, doesn't matter, at all – he announced, almost exasperated by having to explain, by having to hear, his gaze so confident and Y/N stared at him for a moment without being able to say anything else.

Whatever it takes, he said.

The prospect of those sacrifices and ease which he said he wanted to face them would torment was heavy, but as she had sadly learned to do growing up, she hid all the worry in the back of her mind.

He didn't listen or maybe he didn't want to.

So Y/N simply moved closer, challenging his growing temper, to seek some warmth and his lips in an uncertain kiss. Saw him look at her almost suspiciously for her reaction, studying before reciprocate the kiss and sliding his hands down her thighs. Close, felt their breaths slowly mix in the silence of the dark house and that warmth she had found too late, growing from the most vulnerable part to her chest begging for comfort.

- You matter to me – she reminded him in a heated murmur, forehead resting on him, swollen lips touching, eyes burning for something that went beyond words.

She didn't really care about anything else. They could have been anywhere, surrounded by anyone or in utter desolation and Y/N would still have searched for those eyes. They were her firm point, he was her person. The thought of it terrified her, but she was done fighting and pretending. Roman was everything for her, she had nothing else anymore and she wanted, hoped... he would understand that for that exact reason they couldn't give in. They had to stay together, as a pack, mates.

She saw his gaze lingering on her lips, rising then to meet her eyes, two brown pools now dark in the dim light of the room. Felt his fingers gripping her hips, digging into soft flesh with possession, domineering and lust, marking her skin to claim and force her where she already was.

- Then you gonna be there with me, as you should – he demanded, resolute and despite fighting with everything her head suggested, Y/N nodded to please him again, letting Roman finally crash his mouth against her, satisfied.

They would find a way, they would find a solution even if it seemed difficult, they could do it together, but in that moment Y/N just needed to feel him close, just for her, far from all the noise and problems that awaited them out. They could give themselves that moment of rest, cherish it and Y/N rocked on him, moaning into his hot mouth as their bodies inexorably warmed up. His tongue was insatiable, ready to devour and intoxicate her with his good taste, thrown into a fight that she didn't even dare win. She preferred to let him have control in those moments, while her fingers made their way through dark soft locks, scratching the back of his strong neck to once again elicit that raw growl that vibrated through his broad chest into her bones. Felt his hands slide deeper, grasping her ass, encouraging Y/N to move her hips, pushing on his boner which was quickly answering to juices already wetting his pants.

She had stopped wearing panties when they went to bed a while ago and now was even grateful. She would bear nothing but the feeling of his hard body against her, pressure building like a blessed torture as he guided her growling for her to ride him shamelessly. Y/N had been trying to slow down and control herself for months now, so as not to give in to the heat of their bond, stay with feet on the ground and mind clear now that everything was falling apart, but it was an inexorable descent faster every time Roman touched her. She clung to him, feeling one of his hands travel up under her shirt to roughly grab one of her breasts, his calloused palm rubbing her sensitive nipple making her squirm. Her body had always been hyper-reactive to his attentions, but now she had fallen into a spiral with no exit. Y/N yearned him like a castaway for salvation and in moments like that the need mixed with something more, something that Y/N had never felt for anyone else and her she-wolf fought to make her whisper.

Tell him. We need him. Our mate. Tell him.

- My pussy wet as fuck hm? You need me, don't you? – he said voice like velvet, breaking their kiss and motioning for her to raise herself just enough to sink easily into her cunt – Ima fill you up good, babygirl… don't worry. Aint going nowhere and you'll be stuck with me.

The heat caused by his intrusion had already forced Y/N to open her mouth without being able to speak back, but the sudden thrust of his hips quickly accelerating to pound her almost made her cry. Hands tightened on his shoulders, eyes narrowing with each thrust and then opening as the wave of heat rose from her belly, sending her entire body into flames. Bouncing on his lap, she felt Roman moving his hand from her breast to give her a sharp slap on her ass, he did it one more time drawing a moan and then move up to her throat, to squeeze it just enough to bring tears to her eyes. Quickening the pace, in the frenzy of their moment, Y/N began to confuse the her own pounding heart with the slick sound of bodies slamming together. Her mind becomes more clouded by the second, ears filled with Roman's growls and threatening promises like dark spells ready to tear her soul and climax away. Confused between pleasure and desperation, she held him to her as he held her by the throat, twitches of her wet center uncontrolled amidst the panting of both of them that grew angrier. Room around flashed, throbbing like folds around his cock, impregnated with smell of their bodies, air charged and heavy, saturated with sweat and lust, with a mix of their smells.

They were racing with no intention of slowing down, as if the only goal was to consume, melt and crumble thanks to the other one. Y/N end came sudden and violent between a sloppy kiss and a particularly insistent push on that soft point on which Roman loved to rage without any mercy, fast, powerful, in a strangled moan that made her bare feet tingle, rising in an electric discharge up her legs to a sweaty body, chest begging and hot face. She closed her eyes, grabbing Roman's arm for her life, throwing her head back and then immediately hiding her face on his shoulder because he wasn't slowing down, he wasn't even giving her a moment to breath and she had already went over her limit. Heat kept growing and shake her, causing Y/N to lose all contact with her surroundings, ears ringing as if she had been underwater, body still crying out for more while Roman pounded furiously. Stunned, she stood abandoned in his arms, letting him have his way as he wanted, until something made her eyes widen, pushing her to gasp.

- R-Ro- she tried, because his hand had somehow left her throat, to grab Y/N by the back of her neck and tilt her head to the side.

He was holding her by her curls, beard scratching her hot neck, tongue ready to lick away sweat from her sweet pulsing weak spot to prepare it.

- Easy, stay still – his breath against her skin, so close, pushed Y/N to stiffen as much as his words – I'll be gentle, ssh…

Roman had never pushed, he had never held her like he was doing at that moment and feeling his teeth on her flesh sharper than usual, Y/N wriggled away.

- Don't - she tried again, feeling him tighten his grip, slowing down his thrusts, another hand moving to her wrist.

Why he was acting like that?

- Don't panic, its me – he reassured her, words heavy, attitude raising for her reaction and she planted her feet, her only free hand tapping on his bare chest.

It was him, Roman? Was it really him that one? Suddenly Y/N wasn't so sure and ignoring her wolf pleas, confused between the sense of discomfort and desire to give in, she pushed again to put some space between them.

- Y/N

- No, not like this! – she wailed and when finally managed to slide away from his legs, Y/N saw him jump up with a growl.

The crash of the coffee table froze her on the couch, eyes wide as she watched him pant in anger with clenched fists, body stiff. Still dirty for their moment, but with her mind completely clear now, she watched him stand there trying to regain control in a heavy silence she hadn't felt between them in a while. Roman rubbed his face, rolling his large shoulders, rocking his head and even though she was shaken, something in Y/N's chest tightened following the imperceptible direction of his gaze across the room, where she had put the ulafala away.

Did he want to mark her to prove a point? To have full control in order to not go through what had happened with his family? It was that?

Mate…

She moved her eyes to his hand, the one would have grabbed to calm him, to bring him back to there with her, the one she always found on herself for any reason even the stupidest, the one Y/N had learned to want, but a second too long passed and her hesitation was enough for Roman to quickly settle down, deciding to walk out of the room without a word to leave her again.

***

Uncle Afa was a man bent by age and illness now. When him and his dad stopped traveling around the country, he opened a gym in a recreation center on the eastern outskirts of the city where family had settled. He only trained their people at that time, city folks didn't want to set foot among savages, but his uncle ignored comments like his dad, dedicating himself heart and soul to the pack. Roman remembered going into that place the last time when he was sixteen, probably with the twins, to put on muscles that had grown bigger on their own later and fill his stomach always asking for more. The gym was different now from then, it was larger, it had incorporated buildings next door and it wasn't dusty at all. There was a sign, clean walls full of photos and articles, in the central one there was also him, right at the top.

They had organized the meeting there to have a neutral place, a place that represented everyone, a symbol of the pack values as the Elders demanded. Yet sitting at the head of the table in the gym hall, with the attention of many of his blood just beyond the threshold, Roman kept undaunted watching that perfectly framed photo at the top of the wall. He was there to talk, ready to prove his worth even if it was thanks to him that that picture had a wall to still be on, if that gym existed after his uncle's family had spent almost everything to pay the national healthcare system, if the next generations would have a place to go or eat like he did. He acknowledged his family efforts, but all of them would have been still in that dusty past of mediocrity if Roman had not taken everything into his own hands knowing he was more than what the world saw.

- Don't try, don’t think about it, I wouldn't do it if I was in your place - he heard Jimmy warn, blocking the wise man from trying to come forward to break the silence of their meeting that had already started a few minutes ago without a word.

Roman heard him clear his throat anyway, but payed no attention until Jey, the only one sitting besides him and Y/N, decided to cut it short.

- I don't have any piece of paper with me – he announced, rubbing his hands on his legs.

Roman eyed him silently, slowly tilting his head and Jey shifted in his seat, face so serious as he settled himself better to speak.

He could broaden his shoulders and give himself as much tone as he wanted, but he would never be on his level, he would never be like him and it was evident. That meeting was ridiculous, disrespectful even.

- It's just between us for me. Families have nothing to do with it – he explained, quickly nodding to whoever was outside the door – Same for Solo, he's my brother... and Y/N, she's family too. He disappears with you though and won't set foot in the packland again as long as I'm here. – he concluded, pointing to the wise man who didn't even manage to mutter his disappointment before Roman burst out laughing.

He’s crazy and dumb.

His hoarse laugh echoed throughout the entire empty hall and he didn't bother to hide it or hold back, simply running a hand over his beard to regain control only after a while. With the entire family's eyes on him, he knocked the table with his hand, eyeing his cousin once more.

Jey. The little soldier Jey. Roman had tried to keep him close, to teach him how things worked, because he loved him and still he didn’t get it. Not a single thing. Anything at all.

He persisted with his speeches even a few days before the moment which Roman would have removed him from the family, putting everything on the table to play the good pup. He wanted the title, he wanted to chase him away, but he was willing to vouch for his family anyway, for Solo who had kicked him and even Y/N… as if there was only one scenario out of all the ones imaginable in which Roman would have left her if not as a deadman or it would have allowed him to realize the ideas he had in his dumb head. He still thought the problem was him or the advice the wise man had given him to stay on top, he thought he could keep his hands clean, not involve anyone and he didn't understand that the situation they were in already, was the exact reason for which he would never have survived in Roman’s place.

- You're wasting my time – he said, giving him an annoyed smile.

Jey didn't reply, cashing in without even a nod. He was good at cashing in, Roman acknowledged it, it was his talent, perhaps his only one, but it still wouldn't have been enough against him. He might be determined and willing to fight him one more time, but it would be no use. Roman had no limits and had learned over the years and blows what was needed to kept the role he had.

- Whoever will standing at the end decides, tha’s the deal, the stipulation. There's nothing else to say – he established, tone suddenly deadly heavy.

There was nothing he wasn't willing to do or lose to keep what was his.

He saw Jey nod, imitate him and stand up and in the silence of the room leave the table to join him. Face to face to each other, he stared at his reflection in his cousin's dark eyes, the ulafala still around his neck as it was in the photo of him on the wall and as it always would be. He squeezed Jey forearm and allowed that even if the bond between them no longer existed, their wolves shared a final breath.

Blood of my blood. Brother. Traitor.

When the air left his lungs again to fill them with the stale smell of the center, Roman let go without hesitation, Jey imitating him in a perfect mirror. However, was he who turned his back on his cousin this time to go away first, ignoring the wise man's sad look and those of the rest of the family outside waiting. Y/N who had been on the sidelines the entire time, unexpectedly joined him, her back straight and face betraying nothing as she took her place next to him. Roman didn't comment, there was nothing to say.

Two weeks and he would have control again. Only two weeks before moving on.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @spritelucozade @tribalchiefdaily @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318

[joannasteez]

humiliation. degradation. pain. the man is a bonafide masochist. like do u know how down bad u gotta be to be expecting some mean and nasty sht to get said to u and when it doesnt ur disappointed? lmaooooo cody i want better for u, pls seek help😩

Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Part 1

Title: Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Part 1

Story Type: Kayfabe Based.

Part: 1/2 (with intro)

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom/s: WWE

Characters: Cody Rhodes

Characters Mentioned: Roman Reigns.

Pairing/s: M/M (Cody/Roman)

Synopsis: Cody doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows where he wants to be.

Rating: 18+ M: Angst, Humor, Rivalries, Pining, Swearing

Note : Sequel to Breakdown. This is a Kayfabe based WWE story, meaning that it takes place in the wrestling verse. The events in this story take place after Wrestlemania. This is a complete work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story. 🖤 Credit for part of the title goes to Zeromancer, as that lyric is in the song “Raising Hell.”

Intro

Your (Cody based) Playlist:

1. “Ghosts” - Scarlet House

2. “Do You Wanna Get High?” - Weezer

3. “The Love Machine” - Varials

4. “(But I’m Still Here)” - Evans Blue

5. “Somebody Told Me” - The Killers

‘I’ll still be better than you.’

Wide awake in his bed somewhere around 3,  still very much three sheets to the wind, Cody stares at the newly won title he’d draped over a chair in the far corner of his hotel room.  

‘I’m gonna miss whippin’ your ass .”

For the entire night, Roman’s words had been replaying themselves in his head. 

Over, and over again. 

Future tense. 

It was making him think. 

Why was it that Roman kept foreshadowing some kind of departure in the ring that night? He kept using the future tense. 

Was he making good on all those threats he made about walking out if he lost at Wrestlemania? 

It couldn’t have been that easy. 

It took Cody years to pry that title out of Roman’s hands. Years. That power hungry lunatic cheated, lied, and almost destroyed his own family over it. He sacrificed his body and a good portion of and his mind for it.

The man had an ego the size of Jupiter. Spite, violence, and winning were what soothed it best when it was bruised. This wasn’t the kind of accolade that Cody was allowed to achieve without Roman making it his business to make him regret pursuing it. His thing was retaliation. 

There was no way that Roman fucking Reigns would let him beat him for anything and allow him to just live in peace. 

It wasn’t in his shitty little vindictive nature. 

So where the hell was he, and why wasn’t Cody currently regretting his entire existence? 

Was Roman holed up somewhere with Heyman, coming up with a way to blindside him?

Was he even still in Philly? 

Why wasn’t he on TikTok mocking Cody’s victory speech, and where were the snide, dickhead comments about the way he carried the title?

And why was Cody lying in bed, beating himself up over the prospect of Roman leaving when the one of the points of winning the match was to end his reign of control over the WWE?

Well, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that his thoughts were being steered in the wrong direction by tequila, mixed feelings, and his dick.

Which Cody resented.

This was the same person who made it his mission to destroy and humiliate Cody in front of the whole world. For fun. He was the orchestrator of almost every single attack on him on the road to Wrestlemania.

Roman wasn’t some dreamy love boat, He was a tyrannical maniac that got what he deserved.

Cody needed a grip and some sleep before he started giving in to questionable thoughts provoked by alcohol consumption. 

He shifts around onto his side, pulling the blanket back up around him.

‘Fuck it, I’m gonna ask him.’

Inching a hand under his pillow, Cody blindly feels out his cellphone. 

Like that one.  

He could’ve just gone to bed, but no. 

He just haaaad to poke the tribal bear. 

Bring on the prequel to WWIII.

Pulling his phone out, he taps the screen and lets out a frustrated groan into his pillow. 

“I’m an an idiot.” Cody mumbles to himself as he squints at the screen, struggling to type his password out.

He fails twice, but manages to unlock the screen after slowly entering the letters on his third try. 

Swearing under his breath as he navigates to his contact list, Cody wishes he would’ve taken not being able to unlock his damn phone as a sign.

He had all the intentions the world and nothing to say. 

What could he even say?

Sorry for taking the one thing you valued most in this world?

Sorry for offending your entire lineage?

I don’t know why, but I think I need to see you again?

Cody chews his lip as he scrolls the seemingly endless list of names absentmindedly, forcing the memory of Roman’s long, skilled fingers sliding in between his ass cheeks to the very back of his brain.

It was probably best that he kept things simple. 

His body reacted everytime he so much as thought of the Roman’s name, he was already well on his way to “complicated.”

Pressing his thumb down to hold his place when he catches sight of Roman’s name, he taps it once to open up the text screen. 

“Don’t be…weird.” He coaches himself quietly, as he composes his message. 

When he was finished, he squeezed an eye shut to focus his vision, read it over once, then pressed send. 

Fast. 

Cody R.: U said u wld miss fighting me what did u mean? R u leaving?

It took ten seconds and three manic rereads for him to start hating himself.

He sounded like a dumb teenaged girl. ‘So do you like me? No like, do you like me, like me?’

Cody lets out a disgusted groan and smacks his hand against his forehead lightly a couple times, squirming in embarrassment. “Or not, whatever…”

He doesn’t know why he bothered to even do this. It wasn’t like he expected Roman to respond and want to hold some sort of light hearted conversation with him.

His gaze falls back on the belt.

‘Especially after last night.’

…But it couldn’t have been enough to make Roman want to quit.  

Right?

Wanting to rip his throat out was one thing, but quitting? 

How could he just quit? 

‘He’s not gonna quit.’

This couldn’t be him quitting, Cody refused to believe that it was.

Because Roman was a liar. 

That’s what the sick bastard did. He lied. 

He was lying when he told Cody that he wouldn’t be at RAW the night he and his cousin teamed up to attack he and Seth, and he was lying now. 

He lays there for moment and stares at the clock. “Goddamn lia-“

*Buzz*

Cody’s heart jolts in his chest when his phone vibrates in his hand, and he shoots up onto his elbow. In a fit of mindless panic, he throws it down, smacking it off the side of the bed.

He cringes at the sound of it hitting…something. 

*Buzz*

Then he lets his head hang, rolling his eyes shut with an irritable sigh.  

‘Real smooth.’

“Shit.” Cody hisses, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

What the hell was he even doing? He felt like such a moron. 

*Buzz*

Cody’s head lifts warily. 

Inching to the edge of the mattress at the pace of a snail, he lays on his stomach and reaches down to feel around the floor.

“Aha’ing” when his fingers hit something hard and smooth, Cody tucks his pointer finger around it and drags the recovered phone toward him. 

After plucking it up it off the carpet, he uses the floor for leverage and pushes himself back upright with a grunt. Letting out a string of hushed expletives, he flops back onto the bed and taps his phone screen twice. 

Sure enough, there was a two message “text preview” with Roman’s name on it.

He’d texted him back. 

He’d texted him back.

Roman had actually texted him back. 

Scolding himself mentally when his stomach does that annoying fluttering thing, Cody shakily unlocks his phone. 

The message thread he started with Roman floods his screen as soon as it clicks.

Roman R.: Good morning, idiot. 

Roman R.: Are you trying to tell me that you’re having a stroke or something? Is that why you’re typing in code like an illiterate middle schooler that got left behind twice?

Gawking at the screen in a combination of relief and shock, Cody rereads the first text. 

Good morning, idiot.

As he rereads it for the second time, slowly, a strange sense of comfort starts to creep up on him. The familiarity of Roman’s tone through the text message was soothing.

He’d been expecting him to “one word” him or something, but…he hadn’t. 

Cody reads it again. 

Good morning, idiot. 

The tension that had been trapped in his shoulders starts to melt away.

The message may have been nasty, but it wasn’t malicious or threatening. It was just Roman being himself. 

An asshole. 

Good morning, idiot. 

Rolling his eyes helplessly, Cody snorts out the breath he’d been holding hostage and shakes his head. “Guy’s a complete and total prick.” 

But he didn’t hate him. 

Cody’s lips twitch, threatening to twist up into a grin. 

It was a good start. 

He’d take it.

All Cody had to do now was get the bastard to answer the questions he dodged. 

He wasn’t going to insult his way out of this one.

Tapping his thumb on the side of his phone idly, he shifts on the bed and racks his brain for a  clever response to Roman’s obnoxious messages.

‘He’s not gonna leave.’

He needed this figured out quickly so he could get Roman out of his head. 

[joannasteez]

Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness