#roman reigns x black!character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesamoanqueen · 17 days

Text

Blackwater XXI

Warnings/AN: I've been very busy and I'm late on a lot of stories here, but I promise to catch up. This chapter was challenging and not only because of the themes that become more and more complicated, but also because I already had an idea but after what happened with Roman's family I chose to cancel everything and start again. I hope it turned out well and thank you again for your support and patience

Paul had always been a member of the family to him. Anyone invited to the table became part of the family, that was what Roman had been taught, and when the table passed to him, he had respected tradition and made Paul the wise man. Years before that moment, his pops had told him how they had met, he had described the wiseman as a bold boy that the wild wolves had adopted during their trips, willing to do anything to make a name for himself. That instinct, his desire to be the best, was what made Paul special and had allowed him to make a career where others had failed. Difficulties, risks, had made him the perfect advisor, but Roman had also learned his lessons as he grew up and was running out of tolerance and time to deal with new issues.

The time for confessions is over. He better speak now.

- “It's been a while since you've been home” - he reflected, putting away the coffee, immediately seeing Paul do the same.

He had waited, he had granted him mercy, but nothing had happened.

- “The kids can take care of themselves, they don't need anyone at this point. I'm more useful here now. It's an honor to serve you and your family, I'm happy to do it” - he recited impeccably, his face smiling and excited at the idea of sharing that moment with him before getting to work as they had been doing for years now.

- “Is it so?” - he asked, looking him over carefully in search of the answer.

It's all thanks to us. We did it all.

- “I made you the wise man, it wasn't due to my family. I chose you to be something more than a lawyer, none of them had ever thought of you like that” - he reminded him, intercepting one of those reactions invisible to human eye that a wolf instead sniffs out as soon as the prey suspect.

For a long time, when Roman wasn't yet the most feared alpha in the country, Paul had worked for others, more or less legally and also given his family a lot of hard work. Business was business. He had the instinct of an opportunistic jackal rather than a wolf, but Roman had never judged him for his attitude, because he had understood his way was the smartest way to get what he deserved without spitting blood. He had succeeded with the wiseman’s help, they respected each other now, but between them there was a hierarchy and a promise of loyalty. Affection would not have saved him after such a disrespect.

- “Im grateful to you my Tribal Chief, but I don’t understand, have I perhaps offended you?” - he asked confused, while Roman took a deep breath, gathering his patience that was running out day after day.

He had no time for chit-chat, there were two days left until the tribal combat and he had to know how things were before risking everything.

- “You’re having contacts with the strays at the border” - he began, pointing to the phone Paul had with him as always.

Delegating had become a necessity when business had expanded and the issues to deal with multiplied to the point of not giving him rest. Controlling everything was an impossible job that would only bring disadvantages in the long run and the wise man had taken his place promptly, he was very good at solving the less important matters before they reached his ear and in the best way. Over the years they had created a perfect harmony, but it was not the time to let things happen and Roman could not allow himself the luxury of believing in anyone's loyalty after what had happened with his own blood and knowing that in his house there were already whispers.

- “We need to check them and I do it for you, my Tribal Chief. They have no chance, but they are teaming up, it’s better to know their moves. I only do my job for your best” - he explained, a hand on his heart and a serious expression.

Across the border they talked a lot about changes now he had lost his grip there, they didn’t hide, they made alliances speaking with their heads high, they made promises and threats, they remembered names both Roman and the wise man had known and respected, while they lit fires from the ashes. To him it was just smoke, arrogant puppy games because for the first time in years he had shown a weakness, but as soon as he had solved his first priority he would get rid of them too.

- “What about Jey? You checking on him and Jimmy too because it’s part of your job? You saw ‘em. You talked to them, I told you not to and you went looking for my cousin” - he replied harshly and this time the wise man faltered.

The rumors even if pushed south were still rumors, but his blood was something tangible. They were in his land, at his door. The wise man knew the twins as much as him, he had seen them grow up together and he had been there when Roman and Jey had first clashed for the title of alpha. He knew what would happen, he knew what to expect. The losers at the border were not up to par, but Jey was another story and the thought he was judging him or worse helping him to have someone more maneuverable at the top, going against their collaboration, supposed friendship, was intolerable.

- “My Tribal Chief no, trust me, Im trying to do what is best for the family” - he tried, but Roman immediately stiffened at the mere thought, putting away his coffee.

- “Im what is best for the family. You are my wise man, you are here for me, not for them, not for the family, me! My name and my role are on the line, there’s nothing to discuss unless you have other plans”

It had happened once, when he was still traveling across the country for family business, months before Y/N, over a year ago. They had made it clear, he had forgiven Paul and since then their bond had become stronger, but it could have happened again. Loyalty is never absolute, Roman had learned the lesson the hard way. If his own family, his friends, had chosen to betray him, why couldn't Paul a second time for his personal vision?

We not dumb. We’re not weak.

- “I’d never dare, you know nothing is more important to me than you! I love you! You are my Tribal Chief!”

- “and still you forgot it to do as you wanted” - he reminded him, taking a step forward, feeling the smell of his panic creeping into his nostrils.

- “What?! No, no, I’d never disrespect you like that, I was just”-

- “I told you, wiseman” - he growled softly and Paul raised his hands, to defend himself or beg him it didn't matter.

- “I-I... I did it for Y/N!” - he admitted at the end, gesturing towards the hallway where the stairs were – “I shouldn't have said it, but... I did it for her”

She wasn’t there to hear it, but she didn’t need to be there to give him one of her warning looks, because Roman was already doing it. He endured their arguments on a daily basis, thankfully they had never gone too far to make him talk and part of the reason it never happened was that the wise man knew to watch his mouth when she was involved. Whatever moment their relationship was going through, whatever was happening, it didn’t matter, Y/N was untouchable.

- “Be careful” – he warned him, his gaze dark and Paul understood, because his demeanor changed and he took a few seconds to choose the right words before speaking.

- “It’s nothing new, she’s always been… against this… she has her strong opinion and a lot already happened, it’s probably the prospect of losing someone she cares about that puts her on the defensive” – he explained giving him a look that made Roman’s mouth twitch.

That conversation was becoming unbearable for him. He was perfectly aware of what Y/N’s opinion was about his family war, he was aware there was more than what she was admitting, he was aware of what traumas the past had left in her mind. He didn’t need to hear the wise man explain to him how things were or play the therapist to justify what was happening when the two of them weren’t even on good terms.

- “Im her family and nothing will happen to me, she won’t lose anyone” – he reminded him, seeing Paul put on another face that pushed his nerves even further.

- “Of course, no… not you at least, no, I’m sure she knows perfectly well that her place is by your side but you know there’s a strong bond with the twins… it’s mutual, at the meeting it was clear that Jey feels the same, you saw it, we were all there and she’s a smart woman, a survivor and maybe” - the sudden growl stopped him from saying anything else, but Roman had heard enough by now.

- “You are crossing the line”

No! She is mine. Our mate. Mine!

The only thing clear at the meeting was that his cousin was an dumbass and had learned nothing in the years spent as his right-hand man. He had crossed the line with that invitation as much as Paul now, it had been a lack of respect he would pay dearly for. Y/N was Roman’s responsibility, no one else’s, it was his role to take care of her and he was crazy to offer her protection, when knew full well Roman would get himself killed before quit. He should have worried about Takecia and their family, because he had a real mate like him, a real bond and he had built his life with her, not with Y/N and it wouldn’t be Y/N who would be left on the street when, despite himself, Roman would punish him in two days. Nothing would ever happen to Y/N again, he had promised her and he was doing everything he could to keep his word. That’s why she would stay by his side, they would finally build their family, there, on his land, in his home, because he was the best choice. Not Jey.

That bond the wise man was talking about? was there because Roman had wanted it. It was him who had pushed them to spend time together months before, he needed to make her feel comfortable then and to have someone to always check on her. There was no bond as deep as theirs, absolutely nothing between her and Jey that could hold a candle to it! Y/N was worried because it was in her nature, she was kind and merciful behind fangs and growls, she was already taking care of the whole family, it was her instinct and Roman had to balance: protecting her even from her most vulnerable side. Whatever it seemed from the outside, it was a lie, there was nothing, absolutely nothing. She was his, she would never turn her back on him like the others to save Jey or Jimmy from their fate.

- “… my Tribal Chief I didn’t mean”-

- “Did she tell you to do it?” – he inquired, looking at him deadly serious – “Don’t make that face now, I asked what you did, we’re talking about you and you tell stories about her!”

It's not true, no.

- “I was just trying to explain”-

- “Answer wiseman. She told you to deal with Jey, take care of him, is that how it would have gone?!” – he repeated impatiently, his voice heavy and Paul visibly jumped, narrowing his eyes in terror as he saw him smash his fist on the table.

- “She implied it during a couple of conversations. She said to find a way before the fight” – he answered with his head down and Roman froze.

Why does he keep lying?! Y/N would never do this.

We are mates, made for each other.

His wolf hated even the hint of doubt. There was no scenario where something so abominable could happen. He trusted her, he trusted only her and for Roman was the same… but something inside him still jammed at the umpteenth confirmation. For an unbearable moment, the ground beneath his feet trembled at the thought it wasn’t just fear that was making Paul talk. Her looks, the way she froze when he was close, the mark rejected after all those months together and the attempts to discuss the fight even after seeing him return home covered in blood.

She was on his side. She had promised to always be.

- “A way for what?” – he repeated, his voice uncertain and far away this time in the sudden silence of the house.

The wise man in front of him opened his eyes hesitantly, raising them to him in fear, his brow furrowed in concern at the sight of the veins stiffening from trying to hold back his claws, the smell of anxiety and expensive aftershave shipped all the way from New York mixing together.

***

Lisa lived in the city, in a lovely apartment that was easy to get to downtown and the beach. Roman had tried to convince her to leave it for something better, Y/N knew the story, but she had always refused and it was clear why. It mirrored her, was in a strange way exactly like her, with flowers in front of the door, a strange Mediterranean mix of lace and old photos everywhere of the entire family, arranged with rigid care like in a museum where you were not allowed to touch anything. It was welcoming though, smelling of tasty food and laundry, Lisa’ smell.

- “Sika would go crazy if he knew you were here with me and not at his place! he always asks about you, to me! How is Y/N? You heard about our daughter? I told him to calm down, it’s ridiculous” – she sighed exasperated, sitting down with her and immediately reaching out to reassure her – “at his age and with what happened to you… I think it’s the girls’ fault, they don’t indulge him like before, I mean they have their families to take care of and with you he’s got these ideas in his head again!”

Sika seemed like such a scary man at first sight, a big man with a serious look, yet both he and Lisa had been kind to her after the first moment. She had no idea how he was with his daughters, she hadn’t seen them all together yet even though it had been a year since she’d been there, but he had been gentle with her. They had talked a lot, he had told her so many stories and she had enjoyed listening to them, he had been kind and happy when she had agreed to spend time with him to go fishing. But that was before he had agreed to the fight between his son and Jey, since then she had not seen or heard from him personally, there was no time to get close or chat, there were other priorities and deep down Y/N thought it was better this way. She didn’t know if she would have reacted with the same enthusiasm at the prospect of spending time with him, she still didn’t understand how a father could accept knowing his son was in danger, even if family traditions were involved.

- “I’ll go visit him too, I made a promise” – she replied, trying to hide the weight now permanently stuck in her chest, but Lisa gave her a sympathetic look anyway.

- “There’s no rush, honey, don’t worry. We all know that now is not the time”

She knows.

Y/N had no idea if it was some sort of sixth sense as a mother, hers had never been empathetic, but Y/N hoped was the case. It was the reason why she had decided to go visit her that day, putting aside the idea of keeping everything inside as she had always been used to do and leaving Roman’ side.

She had woken up in an empty bed, him already downstairs taking care of the last things before the war and she had felt alone in that big house. Hormones were torturing her despite the suppressants she was taking every day at that point, anxiety had transformed her into a block of ice and she had felt the need for someone, someone who understood or at least listened to her, because her and Roman seemed to be tuned into two channels that broadcast in two different languages on the same frequency creating only chaos. She would have gone to Naomi, she would have wanted to so much, because Naomi would have understood just by looking at her, but she couldn't anymore. They were no more sisters, not even family.

- “I wish it was instead”- she admitted, seeing Lisa nod.

- “I’ve been in your shoes, I still am in a way… It’s such a terrible feeling in your guts”

She had been a wife, but she was still a mom, she always would be and as far as Y/N knew, Lisa was also close to the twins, she had raised them too. Y/N hadn’t really thought about it, she wasn’t used to seeing things from other people’s point of view, but Lisa was like a more adult version of her: she didn’t belong there either, she had joined the family, she had had her difficulties, they were a bit alike.

- “How did you do it?” – she asked curiously and Lisa looked at her confused – “I mean, accept it. All”

Lisa thought about it for a moment and Y/N saw her turn to look at a couple of the photos around the house, her gaze lost in her own memories, before shaking her head bitterly.

- “I didn’t. I faced it as long as I could, for my kids, then I took a step back” – she confessed and Y/N felt the weight of that admission somehow add to her despair, causing a shiver that made her clench her hands.

Her and Roman were mates, they were meant to be together, they had no way out or plan B and Y/N knew that Lisa and Sika's divorce had been caused by different issues than what they were facing, but the thought they hadn't made it, even if they still got along and loved each other, hit her full on without warning.

Some things weren't meant to last.

- “It will be different for you two, Roman won't allow it” – Lisa added immediately, stopping her thoughts this time and Y/N immediately forced herself to smile with the same hope.

He doesn't quit. Never. He promised.

Yes, Roman wouldn't allow it, even if things were difficult now, they would change. It wouldn't be like that forever, he was a man of his word. They could do it, they just had to hold on a little longer and then, when everything calmed down, they could look back together and say they were over it.

- “A few more days” - she reminded, making Lisa nod as well.

- “One step at a time”

The sound of the wind against the windows distracted her, something in the weather seemed to have changed in the last few days. She had never spent so much time in the same place to notice such things and even then Y/N suspected she didn’t have a correct perception. Her body was constantly throwing tantrums, sometimes her skin burned at the most unthinkable moments and other times the shivers shook her. Her mood changed as quickly as the clouds that followed one another in the sky, piling up or disappearing because of the burning rays of the sun. She wasn’t superstitious and she didn’t see any signs in what was around her, she knew that what was happening to her body had nothing to do with the changes in the weather, but she found herself paying attention to it for a while as if her she-wolf was really waiting a sign.

- “I’ll cook you something, stay here and rest” – Lisa brought her back, getting up from the sofa quickly after having looked her up and down.

- “No, you don’t need to!”

- “No one stays hungry in my house and you need to be healthy. I know that face. It’s okay, say nothing, I know!”

Her complaints went unheard and Y/N watched her go straight to the kitchen, with that short and martial step that gave her a more terrible look than her sometimes stern glances. Still sitting in her place she listened to the noise of pots, doors and stoves, while the house came to life and she began to look around, observing one by one, all the photos that surrounded her, memories of a family and a full, chaotic, but happy life.

A pack.

***

Roman hadn't expected to see her come home at that hour, even if after all they hadn't spent time with each other lately as they had promised to do. He had felt her scent creep into his mind as soon as she had crossed the threshold even if he had not heard her footsteps, on tiptoe as if she had to avoid attracting too much attention and the noise of the car had not been enough to make him stop working. His instinct remained to make sure she was okay, but now he had one more reason to add to the list to check.

After the chat they had had in the morning, the wise man had left the last documents that Roman would take care of before the fight, unnecessary precautions for the new succession they would not use. Business had to be postponed until he had time. So sitting at his desk, he waited with them in his hand, feeling Y/N pause beyond the door for a moment before continuing in their room direction.

She spent a lot of time there, preferring the limited space to the whole house, with the sole exception of the garden and only because she could easily access their private part of the reserve for her runs. Roman hadn’t accompanied her lately, but she was missing for our to do them and as much as it would have done him good to stretch his legs there, focusing on his human side, more vulnerable was the best choice rightnow. In the renewed silence of the room he took care of the documents, signing the pages on which Jey’s name had now been replaced by Solo’s and after rereading everything one last time he stood up, glancing at the ulafala before heading to their bedroom.

When he entered, Y/N’s scent had mixed with the fragrance of the body oil she used after the shower, air was a little thicker, humid, even if the open window to the outside was already cleaning everything up, letting in the cold wind. He closed it in silence, seeing Y/N turn to check on him with a side glance from the bathroom, already wrapped in a shirt too big for her shoulders, hands busy softening her bare caramel-colored legs, her curls already hidden for the night.

- “You didn’t go for your run” - he noted, freeing himself from his watch, breathing deeply, searching the air for a trace of something he didn't want to find.

Her smell. Just her good smell.

- "Not today, I'm tired" - Y/N replied, busy finishing quickly to rest or maybe just avoid... something else.

It’s so sweet... Our mate.

He would never have let her shower alone before, not after being separated for so long and with that delicious smell on her. He would have helped her with the cream and oil, sliding his hands a little higher despite her complaints, until he buried his face between her soft folds until they were both so tired they couldn't take it anymore. He would listen to her complain for the pleasure of keeping him in line and torturing him, and then snuggle against his side and Roman would stay there listening to her breathing, as she drifted off to sleep peacefully and then he too would fall asleep knowing he had his world there with him.

Those days seemed far away now. Their bond thin, the two of them different people once again.

- “You’ve been out all day” – he said, as she put everything away without paying him attention.

- “I went to your mama’s house, she says you should shave your beard”

- “You like it”

- “I told her”

His lips curled into a smile that didn’t last more than a moment, as he too made himself comfortable. Moments like that were what he had wanted, conversations so familiar, but everything suddenly had a strange sound, a hidden meaning now that doubt had crept inside him.

- “You went only there, to her”

He didn’t want to ask, he shouldn’t have, Y/N was different, and yet he couldn’t help it.

His comment, almost a question, hung in the silence of the room, until Roman stepped out of the closet, meeting Y/N’s dark gaze, her scent the only thing surrounding him in their most private space.

- “Who else?” – he heard her ask back, suddenly tense.

And Roman took a deep breath, trying to keep calm, avoid thinking that his rush to finish the day was for some other reason and her tension hid what would bring out the worst in him. He could have asked his mom, even the driver who had been waiting for her all day, but it was between the two of them and he wanted to hear it from her. He needed to hear and know it was just nothing, a useless worry that he could forget.

- “I was asking about your day” - he tried, looking for a soft approach, but Y/N was already on the defensive.

- “Today?” - she asked and Roman ran a hand over his beard, hiding a grimace of disappointment.

She always had to push him, it was a power that only her had over him. No one else. She always found a way.

Breathing deeply he decided to abandon the plans and close the distance between them, reaching her in the bathroom without rushing to position himself behind her. Her scent insinuated itself into his veins, sliding inside him like a second skin, down his guts and to his head, reminding him of the first time he had smelled her. It still happened to him, every single time, an overwhelmed sensation in his bones, a deja vu of the soul finally whole and now unable to bear the thought of losing her for something or worse… someone else.

She’s everything, we need her with us.

- “You talked to Paul” – he revealed, looking at her reflection in the mirror still fogged up on one side.

Beautiful, perfect, her face so pretty and her sharp gaze now glued to him, staring at him with a shadow in her that Roman couldn’t ignore and made his anxiety grow.

- “It’s impossible not to talk to Paul if he wanders around the house at all hours as if he lives here” – Y/N pointed out to him, now like a statue but unable to hide her annoyance.

And it was a reaction that Roman knew well, because it was the only way she reacted if the wiseman was somehow involved, she had never changed opinion about him, but now it only pushed him to ask himself more questions. Paul followed him like a shadow, he was in his house constantly, he had been present since their first day together, but it had never gone well between them and for some reason Y/N had decided to have civil conversations with him only now. Maybe because she couldn't talk about certain things in front of him, with him, because he had already said no to her, because she knew how he would react and what would happen if he found out who she was trying to protect somehow.

- “Solo saw you two talking” - he reported, searching for a reaction in her expression – “… I asked Paul and he told me a few things about your conversations” – he admitted seriously, seeing something in her gaze change, the feeling of her wolf suddenly present.

Jey had run after him when he smelled her. He had found her before him, down in the city, he had tried to get close to her the same day saying he had smelled something in her scent, he had told him…

No, he has had a real mate for years. She is mine.

- “Of course he did, because you went to him before me” – Y/N accused him and Roman took a moment to take the blow, tension high between them now.

He had not disrespected her. He never would have. She was sacred to him, untouchable. That's why he had doubted anyone, but not her, because she had never been a possibility in his mind, he would have always chosen her and instead he had heard stories that questioned their bond. Stories that might not be crazy, that could explain her bad mood and his cousin's arrogance. It wasn't paranoia or disrespect, he was trying to understand and discuss it as she had made him promise.

- “I don't have to watch my back from you” - Roman tried to explain and maybe it was the hard tone, but his wolf clearly felt Y/N's bad mood like a weight on his chest.

- “But you want to know where I've been, who I've been with and what I've been doing”

- “You don't like what's happening, you're the one who told me Y/N”

- “How could I?”

- “You and Jey”-

- “Me and who?!” - she stopped him, turning to look him straight in the face this time.

He didn’t like hearing her say that name at all now, but the feeling of her offense through the bond, the pain the insinuation had caused her, the weight of her eyes on him blocked the growl in his throat.

- “Do you think I went to him? Or that I would go to him after everything that happened to you, after telling them to stay away?!” – she asked and even hiding it behind her armor, Roman felt her voice crack at the implications given her nature as an omega.

He didn’t have that opinion of her. He had fallen into the mistake of treating her according to some stereotypes at the beginning, yes, but it was a mistake he had corrected immediately, now he knew her. Y/N was so much more. He didn’t think certain things about her… she was everything to him and that was why he feared the implications of her bonding with someone else. He didn’t want to lose her, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t stand the idea, not even for a moment. He was trying to understand because of their bond, he would never have done it for anyone else, no one else mattered as much as she did.

He squeezed his eyes shut, giving in to an exhausted breath and leaned down to leave a kiss on her head, caressing her shoulders over the shirt, hoping to feel her relax and thus find peace for himself too.

- “You are my mate. You’re the only one I can trust, do you understand how important it is?” – he tried to explain, staring at their reflection together in the mirror.

Y/N remained still however, rigid in her place despite his caresses and Roman stopped, smelling her to maintain composure while the annoyance grew in his chest, abandoning that attempt, moving his gaze away to focus on her exposed neck where her weak point had been calling him since their first time, but in those days more than before.

Everything would have been easier with the mark, it would have been better for everyone and instead Roman was there asking questions and dragging out conversations, waiting to move on and leave those problems behind. It would be simple, it would be quick, it would open the doors to their future together, the one that his cousin threatened to take away from him and she seemed to want to keep away.

- “It doesn’t matter”- he heard her whisper, understanding the reason for Roman sudden trance and he straightened up suddenly, deciding that he had had enough for today.

It mattered instead. Maybe not for her who had grown up terrified of the idea of mates because of the traumas of her past, but it mattered more than anything else and soon she would understand it too. It was inevitable, as was the fight with Jey. Whatever the reason why Y/N had decided to talk with Paul, that didn't matter and neither did her efforts, real or otherwise, to stop them for the sake of one or the other. There was almost only one day left now and when it arrived, there would be nothing to do for Jey.

Protect the pack.

- “The wise man… he won’t bother you again” – he reassured her, seeing her raise her eyes to him again as she heard him walk away.

- “He’s fired?” – she asked without a hint of sarcasm, but it was something Roman couldn’t afford, not even to please her.

- “I’ll tell him to stay away from here. It’s your house”

What he could wasn’t enough though and Y/N’s expression changed again, getting worse even when his phone started ringing from the next room, almost as if the wise man had been waiting for the perfect moment to enter the scene. Roman had given him a mission, one to make up for what he had done, an advantage that would have already been a checkmate to the wannabe alpha if it had been successful. Something it was better for Y/N not to know, at least not at the moment.

Next to him Y/N didn’t even wait to see him take the phone, before getting up and turning her back to him. Her sixth sense or her bad mood perhaps guiding her.

- “I’m tired, I’m going to bed” – she murmured without trying any further to fix things and Roman watched her climbing between pillows and sheets, to curl up in a corner, shifting into the immobile figure with whom he now shared his nights.

***

It was starting to get cold. There was one night left until the harvest moon and therefore the new season.

Him and Naomi hadn’t bought a house near the reserve, they preferred the city with its lights and noises to the endless sea of trees and desolate roads frequented only by foreigns, but he could feel it even from there. The air was humid outside, there was the smell of wet grass and the clouds passed too often in the dark sky, carried by the wind that rose from the ocean to gather on the green barrier of the reserve. In a few weeks there would be no more announcements for visitors and their bonfires, but reports on TV about weather and risks for the population. It was the most uncertain time of the year.

With his hood pulled up tightly over his head, shaking off the cold, he checked one last time the backyard where his kids had played with the dogs before dinner. Nao had told him to take care of it the next day, but mama had raised him well and he couldn’t go and lie down on the bed to rest knowing that she would be the one to do it for him when he got up at dawn for other chores the next morning.

He had reached the pool when something at the end of the backyard, however, seemed to move in the dark and with a green ball he had recovered in his hand, he went to check, leaving his searches pending. He thought it was some animal that had climbed over the fence from the back gate, but he found himself in front of something bigger.

- “ ‘aight you scared the shit out of me, you know that uce?!” – he complained, glaring at Solo who was standing on the path, with a black hood on his head too.

He was standing there dressed like a thief, with his usual dark expression, almost avoiding breathing and Jimmy had thought the worst for a moment as he approached. Even after all those years he still didn't understand how it had been possible for his lil brother to change so much, but unfortunately he knew the answer, the street and a certain lifestyle have that effect if you have no one to back you up when you really need it and the boy who sang in his room and in the kitchen, so similar to him, had disappeared for a while now.

- “Whatchu doing out here huh? It's late, you shouldn't be walking around at this hour like a damn thief” – he scolded him, playfully throwing him Marley’s toy, but Solo didn't move, letting the green ball fall at his feet with a ridiculous sound.

He should have been home by this time, he had kids too, a wife soon, it was no time to sneak in through the back gate and set up an ambush in the backyard dressed like that.

For a long moment Solo didn’t move, even though Jimmy wasn’t expecting much anyway, remaining silent and staring at him, his dark eyes shining for the moonlight filtering through the clouds, hitting him and his chain. He looked older than the last time Jimmy had seen him, it was weird.

- “I need to know if you’re sure” – he said after a while, his voice low but soft compared to how such a badass he looked.

- “Yep, I’m sure, it’s late kid! Get yo ass home! Move!” – he nodded, looking at him.

- “I’m talking about Jey. You sure you want to be on his side?”

That’s why he’s here.

Jimmy let his head loll forward, his hands on his hips, as he let out a heavy breath.

The idea that all the chaos would soon end and with it, the dictatorial reign that his crazy cousin had established for years relieved him, but he felt the weight of what was happening weighing on his shoulders. He had been the one who started it all, the first to rebel and yet his brothers were the most involved, even though he was the eldest.

Jey had become so serious, he was quieter and more withdrawn every day, he was already fighting in his head and even being close to him, step by step, every second, Jimmy felt that something was already missing. Jey… he spoke to the elders alone, he decided alone, thought without leaving the bond open for him, their synchronicity had broken and Jimmy was starting to worry about him, he didn't want to see him crushed by burdens and obligations, he didn't want him to change like Roman had.

And Solo… he had taught him how to ride a bike, taken him to get his first tattoo and yelled at him for bad grades in school when pops forgot he had a house to go and do what almost all the men in their family did. He hadn’t always been there for him like he should have, but he was still his brother and he really couldn’t stand seeing him come back like a puppy to Roman, with his absurd and toxic ideas.

- “You shouldn’t be here asking stupid questions at this hour, idiot. We are brothers, twins. You’re the one on the wrong side, I’m sure” – he looked him over and something in Solo’s expression changed.

He had never understood what the hell was going through his head, but maybe it was the right night to start.

Maybe he had gone there at night to avoid Roman, maybe doubts and suspicions had made their way inside him too seeing how big uce was behaving, maybe he was already tired of doing everything he ordered and the blood had called him home. Jimmy and Jey were his brothers, Roman was family, but it wasn’t the same, he’d never been there for him and he didn’t really know him. Maybe going to war for him, was too much.

- “Solo listen…” - he began, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder – “it’s not too late for change side” – he said.

Brother.

Together they could do it. They would have each other’s backs. Together as a pack, lone wolves never came to a happy end, mama always said it.

Solo looked at him strangely, his dark eyes moving to the hand that Jimmy had put on his shoulder, before looking back at him and doing the same gesture.

- “I’m sorry”- he said, but Jimmy didn’t have time to reassure him.

His fingers tightened quickly around his hoodie, swinging him with all his weight out of the gate, slamming him down onto the street with a blow straight to the throat. The contact with the sidewalk, the pain that shot through his head as his temple hit, made him so dizzy that the next few seconds were a blur. All Jimmy felt was pain, everywhere, and blows coming over and over everywhere, as Solo held him down with one knee pressed into his chest. He reached out his hands, grabbing his hoodie, the ground, scratching the asphalt, the moonlight and the street lights mixing in confused trails in his eyes. He wanted to speak, to react, but he couldn’t and his head felt like a toy in his little brother’s hands, bouncing everywhere and making his ears ring. He felt the taste of blood on his tongue and its consistency on his skin, running down his cheek and down his back, his muscles giving way to kicks and punches, his shoulder bent like it shouldn’t have. He felt like an inanimate body at the mercy of a blind and resigned fury, he took it in the void of his head, trying to keep the bond with Naomi closed so she wouldn’t come out, so she wouldn’t see. He had no idea how long it had taken Solo to reduce him to an inanimate body, but just as he had started, he stopped. Through his swollen eye, with the distorted vision he had at that moment, Jimmy only glimpsed his shadow, standing beside him for a moment before disappering, not a word, not another glance before they parted again. Or so he thought. He didn’t know, he didn’t understand at that moment. He lay there, struggling, trying to recover whatever strength he had left, his mind wandering, confused by physical and mental pain, fighting to stay awake. He tried to change to recover, but he couldn’t, it hurt, and so he dragged himself to the gate, trudging in a filthy trail to Marley’s toy to squeeze it with his last energy.

In the end, Naomi would have to go get him too.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @surdelcielo @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @harmshake @sortudademais @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @wrestlingprincess80

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x you #roman reigns smut

61 notes · View notes

joannasteez · 2 months

Text

tanks of blood (7) - eighteen is dangerous

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: lots of teenage angst. descriptions of body insecurity. descriptions of alcohol consumption and reckless behavior (getting in a pool while drunk is very reckless, don't do that please!!) consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) reader is going through it unfortunately, sorry authors note: this is a flashback. reader is eighteen and roman is nineteen. word count: 7300 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @sortudademais @gg-trini @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce

eighteen is a dangerous age to be alive. all of your almost adult thoughts and ideas and intentions strewn together by wild, colorful imagination, but, at times, for the sake of another. in front of your mirror, picking at your hair and pinching the elastic of a maybe too tight swim suit. the back cut out to reveal skin and your legs thicker now than they were last summer. frustration brimming harsh in your blood so well it's knotting in your throat. tears pricking your eyes. doom in your bones. because, fucking boys and their oh so amazing pool parties. water every place you step and the torment of maybe getting thrown in for shitty amusement. beer bottles floating everywhere and just-finished-with-high-school-teenagers too lightweight to hold their stomachs. not that you're any better. but at least you know that much about yourself. the pool, party and house courtesy of seth and the kegs of beer to come courtesy of dean no doubt. a friend of a friend of his who wants clout with the club so badly that he swiped his card on kegs for underaged leather bound boys. fucking men.

and seth's guest bedroom is hot. sweltering so much that it nearly leaves you damp with sweat. your fingers undone with a trembling ache as you pull a pair of shorts over your thighs. overthinking on over drive. because he and his cousins and the rest of the "vip's" have yet to make an appearance. the common people waiting with bated breath for their loud, grimy noise filled entrance. a rumbling, chaotic spectacle filled with air's and aura's of a specific importance and nature that you'll always find too high maintenance to keep up with. but that's why eighteen is such a terrible time, despite maybe your exaggerations about the angst of it. this weird refurbishing of the soul. his mighty self importance aside, romans thoughts and opinions mattering now much more than they used to. your eyes yours still, brown and "shaped so prettily", as your mother likes to say, but not really. going about a constant examination for someone else. shaped against your face perfectly but living outside to look inward too.

because would he like what you've done with your hair? the earrings you've decided on for the night? the way the swimsuit cuts out at the back? toes painted a different color from your fingernails but oddly cute all the same, because you couldn't be bothered with changing the shade. your tummy not as flat as last year and that scar still embedded in the center of your palm. eyes working for you but at the service of another. him. yes. eighteen is goddamn dangerous.

that sweet silver necklace he gave you sometime ago. eyes all nervous and his fingers shaky as it clasped the lock of it before you kissed him. a warmth to his skin you never knew existed till that moment. the cool of the metal resting on your skin. dipping low a bit more than usual. the swimsuit made with built in cups. accentuating indeed. because swiping for it at the register of the sports store was easy. naomi at your side smiling bright and excited with a matching style in a different color. the try on process quick and sure with a good natured finality because her eyes were different. lacking that air of intense appraisal. a girls girl for you in the truest sense. her eighteen and your eighteen so similar sometimes. her dealings with jimmy like yours with roman.

a knock against the bedroom, like a warning, before naomi bursts through. red solo cups in hand and a frustration running lines into her face. long, waist length braids, ponytailed up and away from her face. the bright neon of her swimsuit wet, and her legs dripping some on the carpet.

you shift quick from the mirror. a creeping heat in your cheeks rising till it settles about your forehead. heart hammering before it plummets to your empty belly. the idea of somebody, anybody, finding you amidst such a vulnerable moment of self brought on scrutiny, absolutely troubling. embarrassing even. a damn scary state of affairs that nearly makes all the doubts and uncertainties breathe harder, heavier. with a better purpose.

"you went to the pool?"

plopping to lay against the made bed. the fluff of the sheets comfortable despite the heat. maybe even comfortable enough to stay laid up against. a decision that feels more and more appetizing by the second.

she stands just near the mirror where you'd been, setting down the cups to readjust her hair. a strong presence living along with her reflection. unflinching and sure and at ease. "i took a dip. enough not to get my hair wet", she starts. still corralling the long waist length hair. "i was tryin to wait around for you but somebody decided to abandon me last minute to come up here", giving a pointed look through the mirror. slivers of guilt slipping under your skin. but her fuss of it doesn't last very long, eyes rolling as she dips into an annoyance. "they all down there standin around all brainless n'shit, like they need to be told when to get in the pool. half of them is only here just to say they came anyways...". her steps shuffling over the carpet, cups in hand again. "...followers irk my nerves", she groans. eyes dropping quick over your body. "why are your shorts on?"

you sit up. a quick, abrupt movement. driven by that suffocating air of hesitation you've fought with since slipping on the swimsuit.

"should i take them off?"

and maybe naomi doesn't understand the painstaking work of such hesitation, or even if she does, it isn't shown. eyes living with all of the opposite actually. "where is this coming from? it was fine when we bought it, it's fine now", her body plopping beside yours. eyes shining with a scrutiny towards you for the first time tonight, and maybe the first time ever. but oddly enough, it doesn't burn the skin, and neither does it make your esteem shrivel. a sigh leaving her. hardened eyes, protective and familiar in their way, like you could have maybe felt them once before in another lifetime. something similar to how a sister looks to her less stronger one. "if you're worried about what he thinks, then forget his ass. he should be lucky you even lettin him breathe your air".

and your nerves don't fall away all that quickly, but the air is less thick now. breathable. your eyes interested now in the cups she's bought. both filled with something pink, but the smell of it like that faithful burn of tequila.

"you're right".

she smiles."have i ever been wrong?"

your eyes rolling playfully. "no"

"exactly". shoving a cup in your hand before bursting up excited. "so sip on this and lets go mingle".

and maybe you're like your mom about these things but "mingling" is for the fucking birds. an unexcitable process of small talk that does your head in. because no one actually cares about anything real, or different, or new, they just want to make good on first time impressions. all the real things, these scary little bits of air and unspoken moments between the words. something something, if we make the daughter of the vice president of the most infamous, illustrious, biker club in all of florida laugh and smile and twiddle her fucking thumbs, then we've made it to the inner inner ring, of the inner circle. which is a lie and a half. sweaty shoulders rubbing up at yours and the dampness nearly folding over your stomach with disgust as you follow naomi through to a less busy area of the backyard. the heat steeping in and weighing over everywhere. the crowd as idle as she said it was. hesitation in their bones as they wait for some fearless leader to make the first move of jumping in, so they of course then, can follow.

you sip at your cup, and then nearly guzzle it the rest of the way. a cold, fruity bite to your tongue that helps ease the angst.

your eyes peering over to the sliding door that connects the backyard and the inside of the house. like a mere gazing over would summon the not so true bane of your existence. a nineteen year old boy with a penchant for unscrewing your nerves loose. your words tongue tied when they aren't soothed into an easy quiet submission by the sweetness of his mouth. groaning little kisses that leave you frenzied and a little dazed and scared. because he has that way about him unfortunately. a lax sort of domineer. flirtatious eyes and quick little phrases that make your skin crawl something horrendous but excellent just the same. you literally despise him. mouth seeking your cup again. already at the end of your drink and feeling the hard rush in of it in your blood. warmth in your belly and a dizzying effect that loosens your anxieties. the type of buzz that asks for more.

a small little table exists near a group of shrubs. a cloth bag nestled in a particularly thick way of leaves. your hand sticking down and into the bag to pull out a bottle of tequila. because seth said "only my buddies get the good shit", everyone else suffering with cheap beer they bought, waiting for dean and his kegs to arrive.

and with a harsh splash of water—some rando a little less than recklessly diving into the pool—does the party finally actualize. bodies corralling quickly in that cold wash of blue and the music a little louder. this concoction of whatever on your tongue and your urges less accounted for.

surely this is what naomi means when she says "mingle". forgetting about yourself a little and just being. a hard task made easier when tequila doesn't give two shits about what it means to be perceived. eighteen not as dangerous when you've got liquid courage to slot a small battery in your back.

"samir right?", his name calling sweetly on your tongue. the leaving of it gentle as you make to get closer to him. a tall-ish boy—but certainly not taller than roman—with a rich dark caramel complexion. charming hooded eyes and the cutest nose. his beer clutched for dear life in his hand like he'd maybe pay to be anywhere else.

"uh, yeah". a cautious sort of surprise. like the possibility of speaking to him was slim to none. "how'd you know-"

"i seen you with yah dad before...", memory working amidst the alcohol. your words a little loose. stepping closer to him to get over the loud play of the music. his cologne nice in your nose. the type of scent made for double takes and "where'd you get it from?" questions. a silent wingman working as a possible conversation opener for anxious girls who maybe don't know that being this close makes for a heavier suggestion of familiarity. an intimate proximity like you know him more than just from seeing him around. "...he brings his car around my pops shop for tune ups n stuff. you look like him", and maybe the smile after that comment with the way you stand next to him implies something more than it should or more than you want it to but you don't notice. the fuzz of your brain winning the 'i dont give a fuck about being perceived' war.

but samir is smiling and his shoulders are maybe not as slacked and bored. squared now with a new sense of purpose and open and facing you, like he's giving you the space to be as close as you'd like. like for some odd reason, if you fell into him, he'd catch you better, not that there'd be any reason for that but yeah...whatever, and the buzz is so obviously shaping your blood to run with a renewed sense of unawareness of present situations. thoughts roaming off to weird deep ends before they slip back close to where they belong. sipping at your cup again before you peer up to find him staring. a quick wandering of his earthy brown eyes, maybe at the silver of your necklace or the cup at your lips or maybe even a little below where your necklace dips in.

samir's eyes bug. an embarrassment clinging to the shape. like he's just snatched himself out of the daze of staring at you. a throat clear that exposes the uncomfortableness in his own body at being made. "what're you drinkin?"

"it's just juice and tequila, fruit punch i think...", taking a sip. "...beers not my thing".

"s'not mine either", he gives. looking at his beer bottle unsatisfied. "kinda just grabbed it, cuz it's the only thing here".

and maybe he'd have more fun if he were where you are? loose and slightly adrift. carefree amidst a sea of people who care too much. "if i say where the stash is, you won't tell right?"

"not a soul".

your head juts, a motion for him to follow. his steps in rhythm with yours and that cologne staining his skin still flirting with your nose. like a light goading. this silent attempt to lure you into something unfamiliar. because all you know is the cool silver of this necklace, strong teasing fingers and that dark rumbling engine. the nineteen year old boy—who you don't think to name at the moment, not even in the secrecy of your thoughts—this not so true bane of your existence, is still, to you, a great big world of an almost man. tall and surrounding and new and the whole of what you feel for him still uncovered. so maybe it isn't exactly smart—even if such a rebellion lives in the name of a not so odd, half baked, tequila born, self esteem boost—to live so deeply in this state of coyness. a realization, or rather a confession, that threatens the carelessness binding your bones.

eighteen a little dangerous still, playing loose and a little faster in your blood. because the liquid courage gives you this two-fold, uncanny, brazen sort of awareness. convictions flowing strong, parentally charged in a way that makes your ego break against it in bursting acts of rebellion. the midnight summer air sticky against the skin and baiting. the warmth like a second rushing in, a muggy air of defiance living beside the heat in your belly and the sweet flavor on your tongue.

you push through that grouping of shrubs, revealing the hefty bottle.

"shot?", a question but not really. more like a soft demand, styled with a smile and inviting eyes.

the pour of it playing over samir's voice. a near drown out. "sure", he gives. the cup in his hand already before his decision can come into any finality. "cheers", the words slipping off to linger in the air like he's trying out the phrasing. like he's trying to please your excitement enough to keep it there on your lips.

you take the stain of it on your tongue quickly. a clear burn that conquers easily on its way down. your throat humming to give it some ease but poor samir is reducing more by the seconds into a fit of coughs. the dry dirtiness of the tequila new for him. not yet to be overcome by the looseness it'll give his bones.

you laugh. a fit of giggles living a little less than controllable. mixing a more digestible drink into his cup. something more similar to yours. "you don't drink too much huh?"

"nah", his face scrunching. expression embarrassed. "not really".

"here", passing the cup back to him again. "try this".

he sips at your concoction. face less screwed as the sweetness of it tempers the bitterness in his mouth. "s'pretty good", natural dark eyes a little brighter. a spark struck across them even. surely not made from janky pool lights that work no better than the old neighborhood street lamps. a courage to him that seems to settle in after he sips again. a courage that leaps with fresh legs. "you have, really, really beautiful eyes", tumbling out. unable to be stopped. the thought perhaps always there but now given the freedom to breathe. to walk and run.

"oh". dumbstruck. a load of giggling that bursts abrupt. not malicious, no. just the sort of drunken amusement caught from the suddenness of a thing. untamable almost if not for the fall of his face. making you feel awful, like shit. "i-..."

samir blinks. like he's just been un-dazed from a dream. "that was corny, i'm sorry".

"no, no, no, it's fine, i just-", your fingers trembling slightly. reaching across the little table to touch him. hands in his, to give him surety "i just-i didn't expect you to say that. thank you".

"i'm interruptin something?"

the question teasing as it leaves. flip flops shuffling before they flap down, smacking against the wet cement surrounding the pool. an obnoxious, creeping, entrance. it makes your blood more solid. hearing that mocking tone he gives. roman and the forever glimmer of mischief, spread about his eyes and his lips. like he's hinting the possibility of a storm. gaze drifting over your hands, the way they leave samir's, the proximity of your bodies and the ease of it. a knot in your belly, corralling in with a load of dirty little feelings. roman tall and broad. suffocatingly so. annoyingly so. like a tower. like a mountain that blocks the sun to cast a shadow. that burst of brazenness spreading fun under your skin, now tugging itself along to shuffle back into the dark nothing of a corner. but why should you have to cringe and recoil in and from your innocent fun? why couldn't you delight yourself in a little attention? was that so horrible? your arms crossing over. disruption, childlike and eager, running alongside the bold streak.

"no". your smile tight lipped. voice bright. "just poppin samir's tequila cherry".

samir chokes. coughs dangerously hard. roman's eyes slitting to narrow. his jaw giving a small clench before he returns your expression. a mirthless grin. "how nice. i hope he enjoyed it".

"i think he did".

roman's brows lift. your audaciousness funny. "lets ask". attention directing itself toward samir, who seems to be the most uncomfortable.

"i uh", his hand setting the cup down. nervous, antsy and it irks you whole. "yeah, it was. it-it was fine".

roman hums. shuffles up more till he's nearly flushed against your back. the fabric of his tank top blowing with the heat of the slim midnight breeze, hitting whats exposed of your skin. a reminder. your fists clenching. fucking asshole. the necklace at your chest still cool. in agreement with him. his presence this annoying, territorial claim. possessive and unwavering. your belly empty, your head swimming and frustration clinging to your nerves so well that it's stupid. because this is stupid. because annoyance shouldn't live like this, shouldn't find even ground with enjoyment so well. blood hot, something dizzy working behind your eyes. a complicated, rush of a feeling that has yet to be totally deciphered.

"you're one of seth's buddies right?"

"yeah something like that". samir appearing less tall. shrunken in and a half step from paper frail. less willing to indulge his eyes. the interest in them gone and refusing to meet your face. and it sours whatever unnamed sweetness held for him. your curiosities gone. because allowing roman to destabilize him so easily. unbalanced and too shy for proper confidence. where was the fun, competitive edge, in that? a bold streak of something uneasy and conflicting and tricky. not simply rolling over and letting him win. thats what this was supposed to be. a riot for some damn reclamation. "i'm just gonna go", samir says. your eyes rolling as he gathers himself to leave the small safety of the table.

you peer up at roman. the source of all this bullshit angst housed in your person. his face soft but angular somehow. tender lips existing as the object of your lingering desires. his shoulders wide and his body thick thanks to home cooked meals and too much football. your fists balling till they ache. tequila dulling the pain of your nails but doing nothing for the baseless frustration. this boy... this man... this whatever he is, so pretty and exacting and sure all the damn time. always testing and making attempts and looking. your skin less like skin and more like metal. like the tinny cold make of one of his many football trophies. and now you feel no better, no greater than samir. shrinking in and your throat tight again. dizzy and trembly. a leaf in the breeze. like you're back upstairs in seth's guest room, peering into the mirror. eyes yours, but more useful for him now.

hate isn't too strong a word is it? your father says it sometimes. like the word is venom born, made to poison. says it and then kisses your mother anyways. kisses and hugs her and churns her indifference into pretty, wispy noise. rich and thick. honey inspired. so if that works. venom and honey. both thick and useful. then maybe they're the same.

"you're such a dick", you cut at him. eyes rolling hard. making to step around him. but he's so tall and everywhere. a world and a half.

and he laughs. like everything is so funny. like you're funny. a joke. sweetened tequila on the tongue. bathing your stomach. fuzzily in the brain. he thinks you're a joke.

"how would you know, you've never seen one".

you gasp. your shoulder trying it's hardest to check him. a barely registered move that gets you past him and closer to the pool. "ass", you yell. loud enough for people to hear.

skin sticky. trembling still. exasperated. your feet a harsh descending as you stalk to the opposite edge of the pool. the beginning steps of the shallow end. dean there with a cup of beer in hand. hair long and already damp.

"trouble in paradise?"

your eyes cut. a sharp look to warn him. a deep breath as you breach the water with your foot. trying the cool of it. "your friend is a fuckin asshole", you give.

he chuckles. like maybe he knows that to be a little true. "what'd he do?" and when you don't answer, occupied with settling into the chill of the pool, he turns his attention over to his friend. chuckling still. "what the hell did you do?"

roman flips his hand. a 'whatever' motion, like he couldn't be bothered to even care.

your blood boils. loose and on fire. "what doesn't he do?!" loud and irritated enough for dean to hear. loud enough for roman. for seth and the twins and everyone else in between. but it doesn't stop the party. just adds to the air. to the drone of the festivities. to splashes of water, and the splatting smack of beach balls. to good feeling breezy wind and the thumping bass of music. to guys trying to flirt with girls and girls trying to quell their boyish half baked charms with coyness and shooing splashes of water. the party in full effect and alive. pulsing and balanced. and maybe you shouldn't be in the pool, all loose-brained and dizzy feeling. but the water feels good and the distance from roman is a welcomed addition. gets his cologne out of your nose and rids you of the sensation of his body along your back.

but his mischief isn't done. stretches with a fresh awakened need to stress your nerves. the pull up and discard of his tank top a sensational performance. like he's mocking and poking and punishing you with the gasp and squeals of girls who pry at him with sharp hopeful eyes. his body dipping into the pool on the deep end before breaching up with his hair slicked back and dusting his shoulders. curling up as it meets the air all finger provoking like.

you hate him.

feet splashing behind you. dean stepping to sink further and further into the icy blue of the pool. a quick, resolute voice of mediation. "aaalright...", he draws out. "...none of this shitty, sulky, energy". his back to you, arms stretched out and waiting, like a human pool noodle. "hop on".

but the water is safe here at the shallow end. close to the stairs and faraway from eyes and his prying little stare that grows more amused by the minute as you fight and fail to ignore it. "dean, i don't think thats a good—", your body up ended. water splashing as you panic. a fast jostling maneuver that forces you to grapple him as he lifts you onto his back. "dean!!!", thrilled and pissed and dazed behind the eyes still. arms and legs wrapping tight about him as he treads into the deep end.

and he's all smiley, the little shit. "you don't got much of a choice unfortunately".

"i can't swim".

"i know", patting the clinging wrap around of your arm. reassurance that barely makes a full registration about the body. "i ain't gonna let you drown sweets".

"sweets?"

"new nickname for you", he hums. satisfied with the ring of it.

and you snort. set your head atop of his as he treads the water. because dean—and though it's unusual for him to fail at many things—is unfailing at pleasing his penchant for nicknaming people. you in particular. a little list of moniker's reflecting the growth of your relationship. from 'sis', at sixteen, to 'sissy' at seventeen, and then a very offhanded 'babe' for sometime. a jokey little term of affection you accepted, because the humor of it proved stupid and weird and annoying for roman. always silently bristling about it. these wordless little shifts in his expression. a disapproval he felt was maybe too childish to name properly. but dean didn't linger on it too long. a little razz of a name before moving on back to just calling you by your government. but 'sweets' is new. promotes something, maybe, a bit more delicate than the others. more endearing.

"cute", you approve. "where are we going?"

"where the party is".

your arms grow tighter. cinched threateningly at his neck. his little laughs and the edge of his weight against yours not doing much to make your irritations any true problem. but you try anyways. "i swear to God, and Jesus freakin Christ ambrose...", your voice biting. words slipping through your teeth. "...if you take me over to him on some kum ba yah bullshit, i will drown you. i will use all of my weight and pin you to the floor of this pool...", his sputters, chuckles flaming your blood. "...i will end you. i don't wanna talk to him".

"you two go at it like a fuckin married couple, just—"

your name shrieks across the pool. a drawl of a mezzo soprano voice. pretty and clear like freshly cut diamonds. sing song like and attention grabbing. enough for dean to halt his treading and pivot. curiosities a shitty merging with some low level form of dread. tequila swimming in your stomach, this large, prong attached battery. a careless, suspicious, jolt of energy about your blood as you get closer to chauncey hayes and her mini crowd of personality destitute friends. and no, the dread doesn't spring off from some shriveling form of a fear absolute, but rather the regular anxieties of interacting with a girl too boy obsessed to think straight. because chauncey still roams free and ditsy-like in the halls of tenth grade socialization. a shark of a particular caliber. too small to be truly frightening but existing large enough to annoy already poorly wired nerves. tonight is not the night for this. tonight is not the night for chauncey hayes.

"just the girl i wanted to chat it up with", she smiles. a little looser than tight lipped. like the work of ingratiating herself to you is a goal but not a top priority. sincerity casting bright for some seconds as she drops her eyes. "hi dean".

"ladies", he gives, to her and all her friends. polite and smirky like. their reactions amusing.

"what's up?", you ask. ready to get it over with. your arms and legs clinging to dean still. less vexed. seeking comfort.

"so um...", a faux bout of rumination. her eyes a light bright warm brown, glowing to contrast the cool blue of the pool. a summery colored bathing suit fitting her skin and her hair loose and curly. "...you're cool with the twins right?", her eyes flicking to jimmy and jey. reverential, bordering needy and crazed even. naomi atop jimmy in a similar fashion to how you cling to dean. but her body proves less anxious, more affectionate. the boys cornered and laughing gut deep with roman and seth. "like...deep family connects and all that good stuff?"

"how federal of you", dean mumbles.

and yes, blame it on the alcohol. spirits saturating your veins. curiosities fortified and blindly misguiding. so much so that your clues as to where this might lead are a bit blurred. a nameless teenaged ruin. oh yes, just blame everything on that fruity, semi-acrid taste steeped into your tongue. "i guess you could say that, yeah".

"so whats the status on them then? ... like, i know jimmy and naomi are connected at the hip but roman specifically...", a rushing in where words intend to flow. heat and blood. the inner parts of your ears muddied with an ill feeling. a disruptive sensation. fingers alive with these little twitches. belly swimming. nausea maybe. a well, wet with liquor and a deep vexing. because what the actual hell? "...like what's his deal? is he taken?"

dean laughs. from the base of his gut. abrupt and ill-controlled. amusement full in his cheeks. "oh young and the restless, eat shit, this is magic", he barks.

"dean. shut. the fuck. up", you cut. tongue sharp like obsidian. shifting along his back. re-hooking your legs and focusing your eyes from that loose daze. for what? better posture maybe? a maneuvering perhaps that gives one of your arms more reach, more freedom. a reason unknown really. but your human pool noodle takes it as a sign to tread a step backwards. like he knows something you don't. "why do you ask?", your eyes slitting. no less curious, but the anxieties are fallen away to leave a spark of something vicious feeling in it's wake. an unchallenged sensation housed in your chest. a beating, a pulse. the pump of it venturing out to the center of your forehead and the tips of your toes. a thorough spreading about till you're filled with the brutality of it. a dangerous feeling. whole and sweet and grimy.

"i mean...what do you mean why?", chauncey flicking her shitty little eyes over to roman. a dazzling appreciation in them that aches your teeth. "have you seen him?"

you grin. mirthlessly. "what makes you think i'd know what he likes?"

"you're always hanging around...", a patronizing go of words. her eyes rolling, the thought of it sticking to her odd and unwanted. like your proximity to him is more of a nuisance than a fulfillment of his own wants. of each others wants. "...i figured you had a little insider information".

and the way your arms wrap around dean for stability, fingers clutching nails into his pale skin. anger attempting to be tempered but proving formidable and real bitchy. his throat grunting as he feels the violence of it. "ouch...", he pats your arm for reprieve. to draw you back off the ledge. that resolute voice of mediation coming back in full stride. awkward and stuttered. "...ok uh, so i think maybe...maybe in the spirit of pool parties and um...buoyancy? ...yeah that sounds right... that we should do a breathing exercise...y'know just something to chill us out—"

you cut off his rambling. "is this you trying to be funny?", his hands digging into your thighs to keep you up as you press forward. "your town cryin ass is always ten steps ahead on gossip but you don't know him and i are together?...", voice louder than before. erupting till its bouncing off pool waves to ripple out to the deep end. "...have been together?"

she scoffs. fighting not to shrink. "he doesn't even talk you up, i—"

"ok, ok, wait!", dean calls out. bewildered at chauncey's nonchalance. treading back.

"girl are you fucking dense?", you yell.

"ah shit", dean mumbles. backing away slowing. bones heavy amidst the water.

but you keep going. laughing with teeth. a mild mannered hysteria. "do you not like your life?"

"are you threatening me?", chauncey shrieks. trembling but warring against it.

"you know who i am", you give. amused and loose blooded.

"ok, i think thats enough magic for tonight", dean mumbles. his thumb rubbing into your knee as he holds and carries you to the stairs resting at the center edge of the pool.

the metal curve of the stepping rods cold to the touch. your bones tired and heavy. skin wet. an empty, drained, sensation coddling terribly well everywhere. that short bout of hysteria dead. the party goers unsure of when or how to resume. awkwardly existing under the torture of your fire. the buzz once sizzling your blood, growing neutral and ill-suited for this new lane of emotion. a merging onto something quiet and dejected. the thump of the music never returning to it's former glory, even as your feet press forward into the house. tracking in wet, an untouched collection of dry towels hanging near the entrance. your hand snatching one up, making a b-line for the other side of seth's house. his kitchen scarce of teenage bullshit—apart, of course, from your own—and the loud song of too trivial chatter. the large towel wrapping your body, a tender lean against the counter, trembling softly, waiting for the chill to stop.

a gut wrenching sort of enervation plays dutifully under the skin. on cue and terribly in the pocket. a grimace worthy rhythm. it makes a disgusting, beautiful, cruel tune out of your nerves. bursting and wild, like the roar of an old iron made engine. a rumbling orchestra, dirty in its symphony, those residuals of anger oh so noisy in the body. feeling mighty and familiar. a fire and grime inherited surely. because who are you that it'd pass you by without troubling skin and bones and the thoughts made ready to leave your mouth? and sure, maybe in her mischief, chauncey deserved to be dug into the ground, her knowing bright eyes filled with wanting to tear you apart for the fun of it, but not with the easy mean speak of your father. she didn't deserve the grime and blast of that tough leathery part of his nature. at least not from you. being a vessel, holding this much in the same way, it hurts too badly to keep in. hurts more letting it go.

and roman is light footed as he steps into the kitchen. silent but full in presence. shaping the room to his body. but then again, everything looks quite too large for understanding when you've gone under such a quick, awful diminishing.

"sober yet?"

"almost".

he huffs through his mouth. a deep, amusing breath. "it's always the lightweights causing all the trouble", leaning up against the island that runs parallel to the counter. his eyes stitching to your skin. sewing in and binding themselves. "you gave the normals a show though, they'll have something to talk about for the rest of the summer".

your eyes roll, turning away from him. opening the kitchen fridge to grab a bottle of water. opening it to take a sip, before the sarcasm drips. "m'so happy i could give your fans free entertainment, apparently the little strip tease wasn't enough for them".

"takin my shirt off at a pool party is regular shit. i can't help it if girls like the way i look. i can't control how people react...", his face running hot with irritation. his cheeks dusting a faint red. loose curls joining up in his hands as he ties them into a small knot. " ...at least i wasn't baitin nobody. you get a little buzz and forget i exist apparently".

but samir was an empty rebellion. not forgetfulness. a coup against the self to rid of the overpower of his influence. an attempt at reclamation—of eyes and thoughts and opinions—at not caring and just being. was it misguided? sure, but not malicious.

"i can't help it if boys like the way i look".

"you was eatin it up...", he flares. not loud but deep. accusatory and pissed. "...all giggly n'shit, like you never heard a compliment before". his body shuffling closer to gain advantage in your line of sight. "i give you compliments all the time and you act all meek like you can't take it".

the plastic of the bottle gives a crinkling groan from the grip in your hand. your tired eyes meeting his. those last bits of looseness giving you the wherewithal to speak. "you wanted me to be a dick about it?"

"have the same energy or somethin", he grits. "you damn near threatened chauncey".

"she was makin it seem like i barely existed next to you!"

"because...you maybe don't", he breaks. urgent. his shoulders falling, unweighted now. like the thought has lived and shaped well in his mind for sometime. his face closer and troubled. a confusion born from frustration. "you don't want me next to you, you barely want me to touch you, and you hate when i look at you for too long, but you want everybody and they damn mama knownin we together".

that nausea. dizziness behind the eyes. "thats not true—"

"are we together?" he asks.

the air feeling harder to breathe. that bottle no longer clutched in your hand but too cold still and your ears flooding to the tips with heat. pressure welling up in your throat too much it starts to ache. fingers gathering to ball, nothing between them but the bite of your nails into the palms. the phantom of a thing they hold against for dear life. eyes prickling with a stabbing pain. the beginning of salty warmth that burns the skin.

you chuckle. mirthless and panicked. "thats not a real question. you can't be for real right now".

"you got somethin real to say to me then?"

and it's all resting palpable at the tip of your tongue. but it lacks the proper brilliance. makes no quarrel with itself of possibly being undigestible. it lives wholly uncomfortable, eagerly so, with a streak of menace. and this, he wants you to spit out? to let fall and burn and weight over the air. displeasure true in the heart of your chest, melted and flamed and dangerous like the inner core of the earth.

"why you so pressed to hear about what i got to say all the time? always lookin and diggin for stuff that don't matter".

"if its you, it matters", he stresses. confusion wearing well in his eyes but his words sure. "if it's not, then whatever. i don't care".

and this must be what drowning feels like. the flail of feet and arms and a hopeless horror. water sucked into the lungs, salty and raging against the palate. sinking the words with an evil diligence. but the body has a way about it. an uncanny, needy, pestering desire to survive. to live. so the drowning is not quick. and you are not overcome quickly. coughing and screaming, skin hot and cold and pale and wrinkling. blurry eyes and a gasp too large to contain for long enough. fingers pushing water to rush it behind, a play at propelling the weight of your bones beyond the surface. to say something, to be asked to speak truth to a wordless dread, is the painstaking performance of drowning. "...you have things... you have the club... all of your friends are my friends... it's easy, you get up one day and decide i'm not what you want, you can just leave".

"no". an instant thing, thick fingers cradling your face. his eyes frightened and brown and displeased. "no". resolute. always so damn sure of himself. his hands pulling, a soft embrace and gesture, your eyes unable to leave him. frightful of being seen but too weak to leave the meeting of his. "that's not true. and you boxin me in like that, it's not fair". your fingers tired, clutched and nailing into his arms. his face, a world of a thing. freckled and soft and tanned. cutting sharper at the jaw but gentle still around the eyes. mouth and tongue delicate despite the cool edge of him, his nature. "when i said, way back before ,that i gotchu, it wasn't me gassin yah head up. i was being real".

but he doesn't stop. doesn't drown under the roll in of a tumultuous wave.

his thumb sweeping your cheek. to soothe the skin. to persuade it of his care. "i'm never lookin at you to find somethin wrong or to find a reason not to look", his eyes a slow wandering pace. brushing smooth over your features. your lips and cheeks blooming with a sensation only admiration can give. "it's hard not lookin at you". chuckling and his eyes rolling. "and yeah the way he said it was corny as hell, but samir ain't wrong. you never not look good to me".

you can feel his breaths here. the draw of his mouth as his appreciation leads him closer. a bright sweetness on his tongue that quickens your blood. his nose a short dainty nudge into yours. anticipation filling the well of your body.

"i like being next to you". tall body slipping up calm. closer. surrounding you against the kitchen counter. "i like touching you". thumb skimming along your lips. "ain't nothin awful about all that huh?"

you shiver. the curl up of it riding along your spine. "no".

"exactly". convincing brown eyes and an exacting little grin. "and nothin bad is gonna happen either. i gotchu. you're mine".

his words a sweet working spell. lips a teasing slot along yours, but never making the full embrace of a kiss. your desperation for it pure. dampens the odd, dirty, hard to digest ideas.

he smiles. amused. "i snacked on a mint before i came in here so... you kinda gotta kiss me now".

you snort. slipping your fingers over his arms. holding tighter. the fresh scent on his tongue a gentle persuasion.

"it's mandatory huh?"

"yeah cause you been fallin off a lot actually. missin weekly quotas. thats real bad for business".

"something's gotta be done i guess".

he hums. planting tender and simple. tiny little pecks that lure you further into the give of his lips. a hand sweeping low, his arm curling about your waist, palms splayed. his fingers there bending and running dull to feel the supple fabric of your swimsuit beneath the towel. touching and testing his limits. seemingly waiting for you to pry yourself away. you breathe into his mouth, the air funneling out of your lungs. teeth a teasing bite into his lip. smiling and falling into him. his other hand meeting the exploration of the first. an unhurried pace over your body, along the line of your back. pressing in as it trails. a gasp melting on his tongue as it sweeps in, holding the tremble of you. "so pretty", he gives. littering your jaw with the affections of his mouth. your everything, feather feeling, weightless, arrested and held up in the strength of him. his smile curving into where he purses into your neck. the rhythm of your pulse playing into his kiss.

#joannasteez #tanks of blood #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #biker au #biker!roman reigns #original male character #original female character #seth rollins featured #dean ambrose featured #naomi featured #mentions of jimmy and jey uso #teenage angst #black reader insert #something something i have bad history with pools so make it the setting of angst

67 notes · View notes

sillyteecup · 2 months

Text

The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 2

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

References to sexual assault

Slutshaming

Taglist: @wrestlingprincess80 @lensilver @nbanenefrmdao @theninthwonder @vebner37 @tshepisho

A.N: Lmao so I took a little too long with this especially for how short it is, but like I said, I had a super busy week and just tried to get it together piece by piece. Rest assured thou that I will try and be quicker with chapter 3. Anyway, hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Loreal was incensed. Throughout the meeting about the arrangements to be made, she fought the urge to look around for hidden cameras. This had to be a joke of some kind. A very unfunny joke at that. She had zoned out from the moment Byron introduced Tribal Prince Jey as her fiancé. As if her system had shut down from the disbelief. She sat at the large table in the dining hall with a curt, yet equally polite curl on her lips.

Not a smile. There was nothing to smile about.

While unable to listen, Lori did her best to observe her fiancé, new in-laws, and their Wiseman. Tribal Prince Solo was nothing short of stoic. His expression never cracked or wavered and he never spoke unless spoken to. Lori would never blame one for thinking he was essentially a walking corpse. It was creepy, but also weirdly impressive.

"The Tribal Tribal Prince and Princess to be will be wed on island of Samoa," Lori briefly heard the Wiseman tell Lord Byron. She fought an eye roll at the trivial information. She knew her father didn't care where it happened, as long as it did.

The white one, Sami, she heard the Wiseman call him, was somewhat fidgety. Maybe jumpy or paranoid would be a better description. His eyes flew to every corner of the room as if scanning for threats, albeit quite subtly as Lori doubted she would've noticed had it not been for her downright watching them. She also picked up on how when one of the staff members had dropped a tray after serving them tea, Sami's leg bounced rapidly as his hand flew to scratch his beard. Lori summized that he was trying to avoid an outwardly jumpy reaction. Granted he did a horrible job.

"There will be a few, uhm...routines that she will need to partake in," Lori heard the Wiseman state, not bothering to listen to the rest of his explanation. Her mother would fill her in later anyway.

The twins, Tribal Princes Jimmy and Jey were different from their brother, Solo. Glaringly different. They were expressive, laid back, talkative. Very talkative. They never said anything out loud, just the occasional exchange of whispers and snickers among the two of them. Jimmy however seemed to be the more decent one. Perhaps it was bias since he wasn't the one her father sold her soul to. While Jey held a hungry gaze whenever he encountered an attractive member of the female staff, Jimmy mainly focused on the meeting and the appetizers they had been served. Jimmy would also occasionally call for Jey's concentration, but it seemed that it was in fear of the Tribal Chief noticing.

Speaking of the Tribal Chief-

"The Tribal Princess-to-be will also be expected to live in the main palace until she and the Tribal Prince are to be married-" Lori's head snapped in the Wiseman's direction at this fact. Her sharp gaze missed the worried ones of her parents who weren't sure what to anticipate.

"Excuse me?" Lori asked, struggling to keep her voice level. Not only was she being offered as a sacrificial lamb to this fiend, but she was also being uprooted from her home without so much as a 2 week notice.

At this, Tribal Chief Roman's sharp gaze that had been mostly focused on Lord Byron and the Wiseman, shifted to Lori for the first time since he had entered their home. Lori couldn't put a finger on what was behind it, but despite it's intimidating nature, she shook it off. Now was not the time to be deterred by this man whose family was shaking her life up by the second.

"Uhm, yes Miss Loreal. As a future Tribal Princess, you are expected to reside in the palace until your wedding day-" the Wiseman had begun to explain, only to be cut off by an increasingly irritated Lori.

"With a man whom I've never spoken a word outside of a greeting to? Out of the question," Lori stated dismissively. She wasn't having any of it. Marrying him was bad enough, but to live with him before she had exchanged even the most insignificant bit of small talk with him was just a whole new extreme.

Lord Byron smiled nervously at the Tribal Chief. Lori's temper was a dangerous thing on it's own, now for it to flare in front of the most powerful man in the world was a sure recipe for destruction as he was certain that the Tribal Chief would not take kindly to her words once angered. Lord Byron could only tread lightly to keep both parties calm.

"Loreal, my dear, there is no question regarding the matter. If it is the will of the Tribal Chief, then it will be done," he said softly, trying his best to satisfy the Bloodline and avoid undermining his daughter directly. He stared at her pleadingly, noticing her jaw clench and eye start to twitch ever so slightly.

The twins watched the interaction, secretly anticipating a firey reaction from Lori to lighten the boring meeting. Solo remained stoic while Sami and the Wiseman's eyes were trained on the Tribal Chief, worried that her outburst might anger him, an emotion they usually experienced the brunt of. Tribal Chief Roman however was intrigued by her initial reaction. Her defiance, although minor was a sign that she would survive this turbulent marriage and life with his cousin. One less woman coming to him with complaints about an unhappy marriage.

Loreal exhaled deeply, keeping her temper at bay. Her stony gaze remained on her father as she spoke: "When am I expected to move?" she asked with a strained voice.

The Wiseman cleared his voice nervously, clearly worried that his answer would cause a series of unfortunate events. "Miss Loreal, unfortunately customs require you to move to the palace today," he replied, eyes flying between Lori and Tribal Chief Roman.

Lori stared blankly as the gears turned in her mind. Today? As in now? Again, surely this must be some sick fucking joke. Feeling her temper rapidly rise back up, she abruptly stood up from her seat and stormed up to her room. The absence of footsteps behind her told her her parents knew better than to try and reason with her right now. She needed time.

She stormed into her room, startling her maidens. "Ma'am, is it over already?"

"Ma'am you seem distressed?"

"Ma'am, what is the verdict?"

"Ma'am is everything well?" they all asked at the same time, further overwhelming Lori.

However they held no blame over her situation, so she calmed down before answering them. "Tribal Prince Jey, tell me about him. Tell me everything you've heard, everything you know," she demanded in a calm haste.

She sat on the edge of her bed as the maidens grabbed their stools to sit around her in their "gossip formation" as she liked to call it jokingly.

Willow was the first one to speak, sensing that there wasn't much time before one of her parents came knocking.

"He's well known for well, being quite the rover ma'am," she said hesitantly. The last thing she needed was to be heard calling a member of the most powerful family across the seas a whore.

"That's putting it quite lightly Willow. The man is a womanizer. Has many a mistress across the seas I've heard," Minerva stated carelessly.

"And many a lovechild, I've heard," Claudia added with a scandalized look.

"I've heard he's a deviant. No regard for a lady's feelings and only wants one thing: sex. That's all he sees women for," Indi scoffed, looking slightly annoyed to Lori's intrigue.

"You've encountered him personally?" Lori asked her with a frown.

Indiana's eyes widened as she was taken aback. "No ma'am, not me!" she denied quickly in defense of her reputation.

"Then someone you know." Lori wasn't asking; it was an observation. One she wanted confirmed.

However Indiana seemed apprehensive, taking her time to answer which only further upset Lori. "Perhaps I should've mentioned that our time is borrowed. Someone will come to check on me soon and I would rather they not hear this little conversation for your own safety," Lori said, beckoning Indiana to speak and quickly.

"It was my sister. She encountered the Tribal Prince Jey a month ago," Indiana revealed softly. She was still afraid that the wrong person might have heard her and that her sister's life would be in jeopardy.

Lori exhaled sharply. Before she could speak however, there was a knock, likely one of her parents. The maidens immediately stood up and moved the chairs to their rightful positions and stood to the side of the room. Lori nodded, signaling for Claudia to open the door, revealing and annoyed yet nervous looking Lord Byron.

Lori's father took cautious steps into the room and towards his daughter. "I've come in peace," he said, hoping to avoid his daughter's wrath.

"Peace that you compromised the moment you decided to sacrifice me like a goat, to a hoodlum no less," Lori hissed, glaring daggers at her father.

"Lori he is a man who has desires. Unfortunately he tends to succumb to them, but that does not make him unworthy of respect nonetheless," Lord Byron explained in defense of the Tribal Prince.

Lori chuckled sarcastically. "If he were a woman he would be considered a damaged whore," she scoffed.

"Well his family is aware of your damaged state and still desires to have you as a princess. You should be grateful. Count yourself lucky that there is a man who still desires you!" he whisper-shouted, starting to feel his own temper rise at his daughter's defiance.

"A man who desires anything he can insert-" she was once again interrupted by Lord Byron.

"Loreal you are in no position of judgement! Perhaps if you hadn't shamed me, and were still pure, then you could run your mouth and voice your obscene opinions, but you are not pure. You do not have that luxury! Because you are used, damaged, tattered!" he hissed, making Lori's heart drop with each word.

How he loves to forget my cries and screams for help that day.

"So you sold me to a man who you see as my moral equal?" Lori asked incredulously as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "Your love for me knows no bounds," she sarcastically gritted through her teeth.

Lord Byron ran his hand down his face and sighed before turning to leave her room. "Pack. All of you," he commanded, addressing the maidens for the first time since he had entered the room.

"You are to leave with the Bloodline in 2 hours."

#roman reigns #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x black!poc #roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x black!reader #wwe roman reigns #jey uso #jey uso fic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black oc #jey uso x oc #wwe #sillyteecup writes #The Wrong Way

58 notes · View notes

truefant4sy · 9 months

Text

PROMPTS

rules: choose a number. you MUST say which character, or I will not answer. character of your choice- COC

1: "you'll never find nobody better than me" -heartless by Kanye west | COC goes on date after date after breaking up only to come back because no one is better than you | smut

2: " you look so happy when I'm not with you"- save your tears by the weekend | COC sees you with your friends in the club and tries to rekindle old memories | angst or smut

3 " oh, baby where are you now that I need you the most" - after hours by the weekend | COC is touring/on a mission/dead when reader needs them the most i.e. panic attack, losing someone, needing to vent | angst

4: " if you go, I'll stay you come back, I'll be right here" - yes to heaven By Lana del Rey | reader waits for COC to come back to them after leaving for touring/a mission | fluff or smut

5: " if I told you who I am, would you use it against me?" - Die hard by Kendrick Lamar COC is trying to hide their past from reader from fear of reader no longer wanting to be with them/ love them | angst or fluff

6: "Don't blame me, love made me crazy and if doesn't, then you ain't doin' it right" - Don't blame me by Taylor swift | reader defends COC even after its known by everyone the things COC did | angst or fluff

7: "But I'll love you better if you let me" - ALL MINE by Brent Faiyaz | COC wants to be with reader whose partner treats them like shit, but the reader is still loyal to said partner | angst or smut

8: "my love is not a joke" - Just a fan by Roar | COC confesses to reader just for reader not to take them seriously and think it's a joke/prank | smut, fluff or angst

9: " wish I could turn back to a stranger - eventually by tame impala | COC has strong feelings for the reader, but reader has trust issues leading into a constant cat and mouse game

10: " I know your tired of loving with nobody to love" - bound 2 by Kanye west | COC comforts reader after reading confines their problems with trusting partners in them| smut or angst

11: "every time you come around, I feel like glitter" - glitter by Tyler the creator COC | tells reader how they feel every time they are with them (established relationship) | fluff or smut

12: " 20/20, 20/20 vision cupid hit me, cupid hit me with precision" - see you again by Tyler the creator ft kali uchis | COC sees reader (at school or at a club or a new co worker) and immediately falls in love with them | smut or fluff

13: " but if you need dick, I got you" - Nikes by frank ocean | COC is readers sneaky link and only ever calls them when they want sex | smut or angst

14: "fuck me good, fuck me long, fuck me numb" - Nova cane by frank ocean | reader wants COC to be rougher during sex | smut

15: " no matter what you say or what you do I when I'm alone I rather be with you" - 3005 by childish Gambino | reader always forgives COC even if they say something fucked up | smut, fluff or angst

16: " you say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much"- west coast by Lana del Rey | COC doesn't want reader to think that their soft so they never show any emotion towards reader | angst or smut

17: " been around the world and I can't find my baby" - all around the world by Lisa Stanfield | COC and reader loses contact for the a few years and once reunited COC tells reader how they tried to find them | smut, fluff or angst

18: " I hope nobody catch us but I kinda hope they catch us" - Les by childish Gambino | reader and COC fuck in a semipublic area | smut

19: " have a baby by me baby be a millionaire" - baby by me by 50 cent ft ne-yo | COC wants reader to have their kids so reader can have their money | smut

20: " I got a thing for you, and I can't let go" - age ain't nothing but a number by Aliyah| reader has a crush on older trainer/teacher and can't stop trying to pursue them | smut

21: " I don't really wanna stay I don't really wanna go but I really need to know can we get it together?" - get it together by 702 | reader and COC is breaking apart, but reader wants it to work | smut, fluff or angst

22: " well this has got to be the longest crush ever" - power trip by j Cole ft Miguel | reader has liked COC since elementary school and finally gets noticed by them when the visit they're old city during the summer | smut

23: " all the loving I've been giving goes unnoticed" - love drought by Beyonce | reader is devoted to COC just to always get pushed away/ never noticed (established relationship) | angst or fluff

24: " take me for one last ride I'm out of my head tonight" - sextape by Deftones| reader and COC take one last ride around the town before reader leaves for mental/work reasons (or wtv you want really) | smut, fluff or angst

25: "bet you still won't forget me" - ball w/o you by 21 savage | reader starts to sleep around after them, and COC break up but still can't forget them | smut or angst

26: " I just wanna see you shine cause I know you are a star girl" - star girl interlude by the weekend | COC supports famous!reader even during the controversial stages because they just want to see them shine | fluff.

27: "baby if you do it take your time do it right" - take your time (do it right) by the SOS band | COC teaches virgin!reader how to have sex and what to do | smut

28: " are we dating? are we fucking? are we best Friends? are we |something?" - heartbeat by childish Gambino | reader wants to know what the relationship with COC is after constant sex, dates etc. | smut or angst

29: " your obsessed just let me go" - dead to me by kali uchis | COC is still talking about/ still contacting reader after their breakup even after being told not to | smut or angst

30: " cause your just a man it's just what you do" - Norman fucking Rockwell by Lana del Rey| COC does something that reminds reader that after all COC is just man| angst

31: "I'm still working on me" - f*****g fans by drake | COC still isn't ready to be with reader because they feel unworthy of their love but mask this as "working on themselves/ not being ready" | smut, fluff or angst

18 notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month

Text

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

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

All OC Characters belong to me

Summary: He's been gone for 4 months. 118 days without a phone call or a text. What happens when he finally shows back up to work? Will he give Kaela the answers she's looking for?

Parings: Roman Reigns x Black OC

Word Count: 2.2k

EDIT: I Forgot to give props to my girl @paigereeder ! She helped me out tremendously! Without her, this jawn would not have gotten done lmao.

youtube

Friday Night Smackdown August 2nd, 2024

Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me

Kalea Crawford stared down at her phone in shock. She could feel Jade and Bianca's gaze on her so she tried to school her features but the bold headline at the top of the page made her furrow her eyebrows. She felt like she was about to throw up.

“Girl, are you okay?” Jade asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” Kalea replied a little too quickly, her eyes still focused on the phone. All three women knew it was a lie though. Kalea was anything but ‘fine’. If there was a word to describe how Kalea felt it was devastated. The longer she stared at the tweet the more she wanted to scream in frustration and anger. How could he do this to her?

“When’s the last time you talked to him?” Bianca spoke up this time.

“It’s been a while.” Bianca and Jade shared a look.

“How long is ‘a while’?” Jade pressed.

“I was giving him time, you know? He’s been dealing with so much these past couple of months, and I just thought.” Kalea trailed off with a shrug.

“Lele -”

“The day after Wrestlemania.” She kept her eyes cast downwards so as not to see the disappointed look on Jade and Bianca’s faces.

“Wrestlema- Girl that was four months ago!”

“I know,” Kalea whispered. She knew it was dumb but like she said, she was giving him time. He had just lost the Universal Title and had a bunch of personal shit going on. Every time she texted him, he either responded with one-word answers or he didn’t respond at all.

I don't blame you You should be done with me I don't blame you You should be done with me

Was it naive of her to think he was still her boyfriend after not speaking for four months, Yes. But, she was in love. Kalea finally looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I just didn’t want to push him,” she admitted softly. “I thought he needed space to figure things out.”

Jade shook her head in disbelief. "Lele, I get trying to be understanding and all, but this is next level. Four months without a single proper conversation? That's not space, that's practically radio silence."

Kalea let out a humorless chuckle as she looked back at the pictures of Roman and his ex-wife. “Well, at least now I know why he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“You don’t deserve this,” Jade whispered and Bianca nodded, agreeing with her. “You are a bad bitch! You can get any man in here that you want.”

“Aht!” Bianca cut Jade off, holding up her index finger. “Not any man.” Kalea laughed as she wiped away her tears.

“Girl, you know what I meant. Don’t nobody want Kenneth's ass but you.” Jade pushed Bianca’s shoulder. “Anyway, fuck Roman.”

I should've waited somehow I shouldn't have pushed so hard I always push too hard And now it's just a blackout

Kalea was grateful for her girls, but in the back of her mind, there was this nagging thought that his ghosting her was all her fault. She should have waited. She should have peeped game. Maybe if she had kept her mouth shut she would have been the one in his arms at the beach.

What the fuck was she thinking? Why had she sent him that fucking text message? She kept replaying the moment she hit send on that message, wishing she could take it back. He had already told her not not fall in love with him, but how couldn’t she?

“Unh-Uh. No!” Jade exclaimed, knocking Kalea out of her thoughts. “You are not gonna sit there and wallow. Him being a dickhead is not your fault!” Even though she and Jade had only been friends for about 4 months, she could read her like a book. “I will not sit here and let you cry over him! No, wipe them tears, and go fix your makeup.” Kalea scoffed out a chuckle as she looked at Bianca who held her hands up defensively.

“You heard her. Go get yourself together.”

SummerSlam August 3rd 2024

kalea_wwe

liked by jadecargill, biancabelairwwe, and 193,867 others

kalea_wwe: so, if I don't win, y'all gon riot right?

view all comments

trinity_fatu: u took this out my closet didn't you?

↪kalea_wwe : 🤫

jadecargill: that's my future champ! (❤️ liked by author)

rachelanoai: @ vananoai: this her right?

↪kalea_wwe: this ain't what u want sis.

↪jadecargill: blocked! just like that 🤣(❤️ liked by author)

I should've treated you better Used to deal with lames 'til she ran into a stepper

If looks could kill, Joe would have dropped dead where he stood backstage talking with Paul Heyman. He could feel their glares as he stood there going over tonight's plans. He knew he was an asshole for what he did to Kalea, but he was scared. Her love scared the fuck outta him. Being in love with her scared the fuck outta him. To everyone else, he was Roman Reigns, The Tribal Chief, The Head of the Table, but to her… to Kalea, he was just Joe.

Kalea didn’t care about any of that. She didn’t care if he was the Undisputed Champion or the face of the company. She saw him for him. And that terrified him more than any opponent he had faced in the ring. The vulnerability Kalea stirred in him was a weakness he couldn't afford to have, not with his reputation on the line. He had pushed her away to protect himself, but all he had done was push away the one person who truly saw him.

“Big Uce!.” Joe felt a genuine smile come over his face as he turned to see Josh approaching with his usual easy-going grin.“Whats good man!” Josh then turned to Paul. “OG,” He saw Josh’s eyes shift from his face to behind him. “Wassup with them?” Joe sighed and turned his head slightly to look at Bianca and Jade who still looked like they wanted to kill him.

“Nothing just-” Joe replied, stopping short as he felt all the air leave his body when he saw Kalea walk up to Jade and Bianca dressed in her ring gear. This was the first time he laid eyes on her and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Kalea's presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within Joe, his heart aching with regret and longing. Her eyes met his briefly, a flicker of hurt and disappointment clouding her gaze before she turned her attention back to Jade and Bianca.

He couldn't bear the weight of her gaze, the silent accusation piercing his soul. Joe clenched his fists, trying to suppress the overwhelming guilt. He knew he had to make things right with Kalea, to explain himself and beg for her forgiveness. But would she even listen?

Kalea had a timid smile on her face as she looked at her two best friends. “Girl you look bomb!” Bianca said and Kalea let out a breath.

“How you feeling?” Jade asked, her eyes flickering behind Kalea’s head before flicking back to Kalea.

Kalea’s smile faltered a bit. She went to turn her head to look behind her, to see if Joe was still there but Jade grabbed her cheeks and held her head. “Jade,” Kalea trailed off with an eye roll.

“How. are. you. feeling?” Jade repeated.

Kalea sighed “I feel fine, a little nervous but I got this. You are looking at the newEST WWE Women’s Champion. ”

“Alright now!”

“Oh fuck.” Jade whispered, her smile had dropped and now a panicked look was on her face.

Kalea’s brows furrowed. She opened her mouth to ask what the problem was, but before she could get it out, the problem spoke.

“Kalea, can we talk?” Kalea felt her heart start to beat faster as she turned to look at Joe. He had his hair slicked back into a bun, his new OTC merch, some sweatpants, and a pair of Air Jordan 1s.

“I-”

“She can’t” Biance spoke for her, arms crossed over her chest as she and Jade mugged Joe. Joe sucked in a deep breath already annoyed with Jade and Bianca.

“Kalea?” He ignored Bianca’s statement, keeping his eyes on Kalea.

“I won’t be long.” She said softly to Jade and Bianca. Bianca looked like she wanted to protest but Jade placed a hand on her shoulder and led her away from Kalea and Joe.

I was fine with you bein' one of my hoes, for sure She said she seen us bein' somebody goals, what are those? I thought about givin' you the key to my heart, but it's froze

Kalea walked a few steps away with Joe, a mixture of nerves and curiosity swirling in her stomach. This is it. She thought. She kept her eyes downcast as they made their way to an empty part of the stadium. She could feel his eyes on hers but couldn’t find it in her to look up at him.

“Kalea, can you look at me please?” The emotion in his voice shook her to her core. As she slowly lifted her gaze to meet Joe's, she felt her heart skip a beat at the intensity of his stare. His eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and determination, making her breath catch in her throat. “I’m sorry.” He finally whispered after a moment of them just standing there, staring into each other’s eyes. “I should have responded to your messages.”

“Why didn’t you?” The pain in her voice damn near broke him. “An ‘i’m alive’ would have sufficed Joseph.”

“Kalea –”

You know the love was X-rated, it's how we made it

“It was because of my text message wasn’t it?” She cut him off. “You –, Because I told you I loved you? That’s why you ghosted me?” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was bracing herself for his response.

Joe’s face fell as she shifted on his feet, his guilt apparent. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself against a storm. “It’s not that simple,” he began, but Kaela cut him off.

“Not that simple?” She scoffed, her arms falling to her sides. “So fucking me was simple, but loving me isn’t?”

“Kalea that not –”

“No, I totally get it.” She cut him off with a chuckle but wasn’t shit funny. “You were okay with the physical part, but when it came to actually feeling something, that was too much for you.”

Joe took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain control over his emotions. “Kalea, it’s not that I didn’t care. It’s—”

“Not that you didn’t care?” Kalea rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you cared, you would have faced it head-on. Instead, you just ran away, like a coward. I understand you told me not to fall in love with you, but you shouldn’t have been doing all the right shit for me to fall in love.” Kalea angrily wiped away the tears that fell. “All the dates and the – the little gestures. The way you looked at me, the way you held me. How was I supposed to not fall in love with that!?” She was damn near shouting now and she was grateful the part of the arena they were in was empty besides the two of them.

She needed angles, I need angels, I'm fightin' Satan Leave me faded, I feel painless, I go out gracious I'm tryna feel a shade of greatness by celebratin' Bring entertainment, goin' brainless, like goin' dumb on my hiatus

Joe knew he messed up. He knew it when he ignored her first phone call. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He just wanted her to know how fucking sorry he was.

Kalea shrugged "Sorry doesn't cut it,. Not this time. "

She turned to leave, but Joe reached out, grasping her wrist gently. "Wait, please. Let me explain."

Kalea pulled her wrist out of his grip. “It’s a little too late don’t you think Roman?” Joe’s heart fell to his ass. Roman? She was calling him Roman now? “You had four months to explain. But you didn’t want to explain to me then huh? You didn’t want to answer any of my text messages or phone calls. No, I wasn’t good enough for you. But I guess you’re ex-wife was.”

Joe furrowed his eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.” She pulled her phone from out of her bra and went to her Twitter, going to her bookmarks page and pulling up the tweet from TMZ. She shoved her phone in Joe’s hand.

If Joe didn’t feel like shit before, he definitely felt like shit now. He hadn’t even seen anyone with cameras that day. Before he could say anything, before he could explain and beg for her forgiveness, she snatched the phone out of his hand.

Kalea's eyes were burning with anger and hurt. "Four months. Four months of silence, and then I see this?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she started to back away from him. “Just –, leave me alone.” She whispered, giving him one last longing look before walking away from him.

Joe’s heart ached as he watched her leave, the depth of his mistakes more apparent than ever. He wanted to call out to her, to explain, to make things right, but the weight of his actions left him paralyzed.

Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done- 'Til further notice 'Til further notice 'Til further notice (we'll keep you posted) 'Til further notice (I'll keep you posted)

WooHoo! Finally

I'm debating on making a part two. But I kinda like how I left it. .. sike, y'all know there's definitely gonna be a part two.

Lemme know what y'all think, this was my first time really sitting down and writing Roman (hope it's not too OOC)

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

🏷️: @paigereeder @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @jaethaone

@black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @zillasvilla

@thatone-girly @xmonetsworld @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996

@alyyaanna @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste @trashbin-nie @adoreesun

@shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @bookuce @rianasixx @kat3457

@queeny23 @privateeyed95 @cyberdejos2 @justazzi @jstarr86

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vampygomez @msbigredmachine @ashykneee @callmekayd

@yana3sworld @romansthrone @alichesmi @amandairene88 @lurkinwbreexy

@rwbypatootie @rose-bliss @xbriexx @lovelyhunnys @woahthatshitfat

@blacst4r @thedondada05 @nbanenefrmdao @tshepisho

*Im sorry if I missed anybody*

#Youtube #roman reigns #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x fem reader #roman reigns fanfic #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x fem reader #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns angst #wwe angst

290 notes · View notes

bookuce · 4 months

Text

Fools Rush In (Roman Reigns)

SUMMARY: Nessa wasn’t looking for love, neither was Joe, but when you know, you know. Isn’t it funny how fate work?

*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OCs. The book uses actual names of wrestlers. Josh is Jey, Jon is Jimmy, Trinity is Naomi, Joe is Roman. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events (matches, storylines) could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REPOST MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAAANKS. *

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

TROPE: Love At First Sight

WARNINGS: N/A

WORD COUNT: 1904

CHAPTER ONE

It was supposed to be a Girls’ Night for Nessa and Isabel. The plan was dinner and a movie, but now they wanted drinks. So they found themselves in a popular nightclub here in Miami. They approached the well-lit bar, their eyes visually drinking up the mountain of alcohol in front of them. “So,” Nessa breathes. “What do you want? The first round is on me.” The brunette turns her attention to her best friend. Her fingers excitedly tap the counter. “Are we feeling darks or clears?” She presses.

“Yes,” Isabel answers with a breathy laugh.

“Girl, I can’t drink like that anymore.” Nessa giggles. The statement wasn’t far from the truth. The last time she mixed her liquors, she woke up to potentially blackmailing videos on her phone. Never again. Nessa hums softly, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “Let’s play it safe with clears. Vodka?” She asks. Isabel grimaces.

“Tequila?” She answers with a question.

They exchange stares in silence for a moment before putting their fists out. They shake them four times. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” They say in unison, throwing out different hand gestures. Nessa’s fist remains tight while Isabel’s hand is open. Paper beats rock.

“Lo siento, mi amor!” She exclaims while closing her hand around Nessa’s fist. “Maybe next time.” She turns her attention toward the bartender passing off shots to some nearby clubbers. “Two shots of Teremana, please!” The bartender nods at her request and turns to grab the bottle from the alcohol mountain. “With lime,” she adds with a smile. “Yeah.” she nods slightly.

Nessa shakes her head at the petite Latina. It was never a dull moment with her lively best friend. She turns over her left shoulder to grab her wallet from her back pocket but is halted by dark eyes watching her a few feet down. A smirk curls onto the lips of this bearded man once caught. Anxiety would rush through Nessa’s veins like electricity, causing slight chest pains for her.

Oh, he is handsome, she thought.

The bar lights lit his features well, the shadows chiseling out his bone structure. His hair laid against his head flat, pulled up into a bun, the sides shaved. He looks groomed—at least from here, he did.

“Ness,” Isabel calls, snapping Nessa out of the trance she was in.

The distracted woman turns her attention back to her friend, forgetting all about grabbing her wallet. “Yeah?” She asks. Isabel gestures towards the two shots in front of her. The bartender standing before them waited impatiently for a payment. “Oh shit, sorry.” She mutters, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. A tan hand appears in front of her, a black credit card between two large fingers.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep voice says right above her ear. “I have their drinks all night.” He adds. The bartender eyed the black card in the man’s hand before taking it.

“What’s the name?” She asks.

“Joe.” He answers. Just as Nessa turns to look at the man, he lowers his hand for her to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He says to her with a half-grin. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of approval from her best friend at the tall man.

Ness takes the warm hand, shaking it slightly. His hands were rough, a sure indication of a hardworking man. She now wonders what he does. Construction? Maybe. Architect? Possibly. “Vanessa—Nessa for short.” She says finally. He presses his lips into a thin grin and nods his head once at her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nessa.” He says, opting for the shorter version of her name. Mentally, she was happy he did. She preferred it over her full name. She felt more like a Nessa than Vanessa. They would continue to shake hands slightly while gazing at each other, both not realizing that they were still doing it. Isabel would watch them curiously from behind Nessa. She gawked over the man’s size. In height, he towered over her and her friend. She could tell he was very fit. She’s now wondering if he has a regimen he’d be willing to share.

“It’s a pleasure,” Nessa says, finally looking away from the chocolate-brown eyes that entranced her. Her eyes find their hands still wrapped around each other’s, and she drops it. She would peer up at him from the side, noticing his eyes still on her. Her heart began to soar at the sight. My, this man was overwhelmingly attractive.

“Thank you for the drinks!” Isabel would say suddenly. Nessa clears her throat and nods.

“Yeah, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” She says, chiming in.

“Well, I had to find a reason to come over here.” He explains with a shrug. “It’s no problem.” Silence would fall between the pair, causing Nessa to look ahead. She wasn’t too good at talking to men. It was only a matter of time before she said something to chase him off, or he realized she was not what he was looking for—whatever that may be.

“So…” Isabel chimes in. “Joe, what brings you here?”

“My cousins. Nightclubs aren’t really my thing, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.” He confesses. “What about you two? Here with anyone?” He asks. His second question is for Nessa. Joe hoped to God she wasn’t here with anyone. If she was, his efforts to know her would be in vain.

“It’s a Girl’s Night,” Nessa says, opting out of his second question.

“But are you here with anyone?” He asks, now directly asking her.

Isabel smiled at the interaction, mentally hoping Nessa would take what he was giving. Meeting guys in the club wasn’t the safest idea, but he seemed pretty sober to her. At the moment, she sees no warning lights flashing above his head. “I’m married,” Isabel says, jumping in again. If she could do anything for her best friend right now, it would be to set her up with this fine specimen of a man. She leans into her best friend, nudging her to speak up.

Nessa turns to Isabel briefly, her eyes widening before returning to Joe. “I’m not.” She says finally.

“A lucky guy at all?” He asks.

“No.”

“Lucky me.” He smiles, revealing perfectly white teeth. “Bartender,” He calls out, waving his hand. The same one that served us earlier approaches us. “Another round for us, please.” He says, whirling his index finger in the air.

Joe spoke with a swagger Nessa had never heard from a man. He radiated so much confidence. If he looks like that, how can you blame him? She’s now cycling through possible professions again. Lawyer, maybe. Doctor, no. Athlete, strong possibility. The poor girl was guessing everything but a serial killer. Nessa would take a glance down at his right hand. No ring, no ring tan. He was an unmarried man himself.

“Lucky girl?” She asks suddenly.

“Hm?” He hums, his thick brows lifting.

“I said, is there a lucky girl?” She repeats, leaning in towards him. Joe looks at her, quickly shaking his head.

“No, not for a little over a year now.” He answers, giving her more info than she was seeking. He reaches down to grab one of the three shots before them. He tosses it down the hatch, his jaw clenching and unclenching at the taste and burn. His last relationship wasn’t one he preferred to talk about. Though he should’ve been mad at his ex, he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He’s gone most of the year; who’d want to stay with someone they barely see?

“Are you from here?” She asks.

“No, I’m from Pensacola.” And there it was. Joe was from another city. One that happened to be six hundred miles away from here. He was here for vacation, here for fun. She was not interested in that. “What about you?”

“I’m local.” She breathed, her shoulders shrugging as she spoke. “Been here my entire life.” She adds now reaching to grab her shot. She tosses it back slowly, her eyes closing slightly. She places the glass on the counter.

“That—.”

“Look,” She says suddenly. “I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, and I really hate to assume, but I’m not looking for a hookup.” She looks around. “Especially here.” She looks at him with a shake of her head. “Not a smart idea.”

Joe’s eyes venture away from her face, his eyes now on the bar counter. His large fingers would curl against the surface while he chose his words. “I understand.” He says, nodding. He lifts his hand, his palm up and open. “I’m not much of—of a hookup person myself.” He explains looking over at her. “I barely know how to do that kind of stuff—the pickup lines and whatnot.” He explains, leaning towards her slightly.

“Right,” Nessa nods.

“My cousins tried to teach me, but I’m not really feeling it, you know what I mean? I’ve never been one to do that.” He was now rambling, his anxiety starting to spike. Maybe he shouldn’t have come out. He can already hear Jon and Josh teasing him for not being able to pick up women. It should come easy to him with the way he looked, but how he looked and who he was were two completely different people. He stops himself, a slow blink to follow while he gathers himself. Just talk, Joe, he thinks. He takes a breath. “I just figured I’d come over and introduce myself, maybe find a reason to come back to this place. Miami is a bit scary after a certain hour with all of the…colorful people.” She chuckles at that, receiving a grin from him in return. Maybe he was winning her over again. “Maybe I can get your number instead?” He proposes.

Nessa watches him for a moment, her eyes searching for ill intent she’d never find. He did seem like a sweet guy; at least she was hoping he was. Isabel was staring a hole in the back of Nessa’s head. Surely this woman has some sense. If she didn’t give this man her number, she was going to give her a piece of her mind after (and maybe sneak her number to him behind her back).

“Uh,” Nessa starts.

“Perra, dale tu número.” Isabel hisses, pinching her side. Nessa shrinks away from the pinch, looking back at her friend who was glaring at her.

“Sure, why not.” She says, looking at Joe. A large smile would spread across his face as he fished his phone out of his coat pocket. She’d take the warm phone, putting in her info as a contact. She passes the phone back to him. “Don’t make me regret it.” She warns him.

“I won’t.” He says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Thank you,” He nods, looking between her and her friend. “I’ll let you ladies get back to your Girls Night. Remember, your drinks are on me. Be safe.” He says, walking off to find his cousins. Nessa and Isabel both watched as he vanished into the crowded space that was the dance area.

“I can’t believe you almost fumbled that!” She exclaims. “That man is fine, fit, and looks rich, mi amoré, okay? Alex is lucky I love him, because that one would’ve gotten fu—.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Nessa snips.

CHAPTER 2

———————————————————————————

A/N: so…fancy seeing you here LMAO. Should’ve seen it coming tbh. This is the first chapter of another little fanfic I have tucked away. I hope you like it!

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fluff #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black oc

221 notes · View notes

sugarjar · 21 days

Text

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my fish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

#roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns #roman reigns x black oc

58 notes · View notes

visionarymode · 1 year

Text

Acknowledgement

✧ warnings: smut, language, 18+

✧ pairing: roman reigns x female reader

✧ word count: 2,397

“Y-yes my tribal chief.” Paul fearfully stuttered as he got up in a hurry and left the room as he obeyed the tribal chief’s orders. Roman let out an annoyed and impatient sigh as he glared at Paul with those piercing evil eyes. The screen transitioned into the crowd as AJ Styles’ entrance music hit with the bell ringing to indicate the start of a new match segment. was sitting at the mini table backstage as she just finished watching Roman on TV in his backstage segment for the night. She loved watching him in character because he was so damn brilliant at what he does. There was truly no one like him. Not to mention his incredible dedication and sexy execution of his character…the tribal chief. Roman was the perfect man but my god, something about the tribal chief just made her want to jump through the screen and as he always says, acknowledge him, in many different explicit ways she could imagine. She sat there as her sexual frustration built up not being able to forget that segment or his fine self. you know what? She thought to herself. She grabbed her phone and got up to walk down the hallway. She was about to send him a text before she abruptly bumped into someone.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry-“ she stopped to notice who it was. Paul Heyman.

“Someone’s eager to get to her destination.” he joked as he crossed his arms raising his eyebrow. Oh, he has no idea…

“I just tend to walk fast Paul that’s all!” she giggled as she crossed her arms as well. “Is he still in his locker room?” she questioned as if he’d know the answer.

“Yes he is. he has some free time before our next segment in about half an hour.” he patted my shoulder as he continued to walk past her.

“Thank you Wiseman!” she called out jokingly. She continued her walk until she stopped to read what was in front of the door to her right. Roman Reigns. finally.

She left two quick little knocks on the door before opening it to see him lying up comfortably on the black leather couch scrolling through his phone. He looked up and immediately put his phone down as he flashed his pearly whites smiling in response to her presence.

“Hey baby.” he greeted her as he got up from the couch.

She locked the door behind her and she started walking towards him to embrace him. He picked her up as she wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. She giggled as she broke away to look at him. He looked so fucking sexy. When did he not though? His hair was slicked back in his usual bun, and his thick salt and pepper beard glistened from the oil he put on it to make it shine. He was wearing his 1000 days t-shirt with his track jacket over it zipped down.

“What?” he chucked.

“Nothing you just look so…fucking…sexy.” she paused after each word to peck his lips.

“Yeah?” he seductively mumbled against her lips trying to slide his tongue into her mouth. She granted access as she sucked on it. she broke the kiss for a split second to respond.

“Yeah…”

“You’re so…fucking….beautiful.” He mimicked her actions pausing after each word to leave sloppy kisses on each side of her neck.

“Mmm I was watching your backstage segment and I don’t know. Something about the tribal chief makes me so horny…” she whispered in his ear.

“Ahhh I see. You wanted to pay the tribal chief a visit huh?” he asked as he moved his hands from her waist down to her ass and grabbed a handful.

“I just wanted to stop by & acknowledge you properly…”

He lifted his face from her neck to look at her and smirked. Before she had a chance to say anything else, he sat her down on the leather couch. He leaned in to lift her chin and kissed her slowly and passionately. He rubbed her thighs up & down without breaking eye contact as he licked his lips admiring how beautiful she was.

She could feel her panties get more and more damp with each motion of his hands.

“The tribal chief really appreciates you putting time aside for him.” he professed.

His rubbing turned into massages as he slowly moved his way up to her thighs spreading them slowly apart.

“Oh does he now?” she asked playfully, but was screaming on the inside as her breath hitched in her throat.

He left sloppy kisses all over her inner thighs before he stopped abruptly and noticed how wet she already was.

“Mmm look at you…” he muttered under his breath as he swiftly ran two fingers down her panties.

“I haven’t even touched you yet…” he stopped mid-sentence to run his tongue over her damp panties.

“…and you’re already dripping wet for daddy.” His eyes remained on hers as he grabbed her panties with his teeth & slowly ripped them off of her. If she could, she could cum right this second.

“Tell me how much…” he spread her folds apart as she felt his breath on her wet pussy.

“…you acknowledge me.”

“I acknow-“ Before she could finish her sentence she gasped as she felt his thick tongue swirl over her clit.

“What was that baby?” he mumbled as he lapped his tongue up and down steadily yet slowly as he stared her down. She let out a moan that couldn’t be prevented and that was his cue to cover her mouth with his hand as the other pulled her right thigh over his shoulder to pull her closer. She managed to moan louder than before despite his hand being over her mouth as he ate her out like it was his last meal on earth. She suddenly felt him pull away which caused her to drop her jaw as she panted in frustration.

“Wh- why’d you sto-“

“Shhhh. Who told you you could question the tribal chief huh?” he glared at her not to the point where she felt hurt but to the point where she was heavily turned on. She shook her head as she understood what he was doing. he wasn’t gonna break character. damn, he’s so good.

“Or are you gonna be a good girl and do what daddy says?” he asked raising his eyebrows. She nodded her head eagerly so he could just put his mouth back on her needy and aching pussy. He set her thigh back down on the couch as he pulled his shirt over his head exposing his chiseled and tanned body. His tattoos on his pec & right arm were in full view as she bit her lip yearning for him. He grabbed her hand to pull her upwards in a seated position inches away from his face. He rolled up the shirt and stuffed it in her mouth.

“Since you can’t control yourself this is what we gon' have to do huh?”

Their eyes stayed locked for what felt like an eternity before he gently grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back on the couch.

“Now be a good girl and let daddy eat his pussy.” He dragged her legs towards him in the quickest motion and folded her so her knees were touching her shoulders. He kept his eyes on her as he let a long drop of spit slowly fall into her pussy. She was holding onto the back of her knees whimpering into the shirt that was stuffed into her mouth just moments ago so he could work on her. He used two of his fingers to spread the saliva along her entrance before he slowly slipped those same two fingers inside of her. They both moaned in unison as she was falling apart from pure pleasure. He started pumping his fingers in and out at a faster pace. Her muffled moans were growing louder and practically matched the same speed of his fingers. He licked her clit before he started sucking on it as she was on the verge of her climax.

“Look at your pretty pussy soaking for me. you gon’ cum baby?” he asked licking his lips as he continued to finger fuck her. Her eyes were shut and her head fell back on the head of the couch as she struggled to form any words. He removed his shirt from her mouth and questioned her again.

“Speak up baby. what’s my name?”

“Ro-roman…” she was seconds away from releasing as she felt his fingers slow down the pace and tease their removal from inside her.

“Nah…try that shit again.” he softly demanded. Then the lightbulb popped in her head.

“my- my tribal chief…oh fuuuuuuuck…” she cried out as she came all up in his face as he sucked and licked every ounce of her juices making sure there wasn’t a drop left. That earth-shattering orgasm made her moan so loud that he had to bring his hand back up to clasp her mouth while he cleaned her up with his tongue. She was panting heavily as he lifted his face from in between her thighs licking his wet lips with the biggest smirk on his face. His beard was glistening but this time it wasn’t from the beard oil, it was from her.

“Mmm there you go baby.” he praised as he winked at her. this majestic motherfucker. holy shit.

“Now…” he started to say as he wiped her leftover cum off the corners of his mouth and sucked it off his thumb. He got up from the floor and took a seat next to her. He spread open his legs and rested his arms on opposite sides of the couch.

“Your turn baby.” he winked while flashing his smug grin.

She felt like she needed a breather after he just completely wore her out. She expected to come in here and finally pleasure him first for a change but he was never one to not pleasure his girl first. It was always his main priority whenever they got intimate. Making her cum before she could return the favor for daddy.

She slid off the couch and got on her knees struggling to make eye contact because of how flushed and nervous she felt not only by his presence but by that insane fucking orgasm. His sweats and boxers slid off together as his long, hard, and pretty dick sprung up ready to be devoured. She felt her inner thighs getting hot once again as she prepared to take him all in & pleasure the fuck out of the tribal chief. He cupped her jaw as she was forced to meet his gaze.

“Now be a good girl. open that pretty mouth and acknowledge me,” he ordered in a low voice. She quickly obeyed and started slowly stroking his shaft with one hand. Her tongue met his tip with a slow lick before swirling around it savoring his pre cum as he let out a low groan from her captivating eye contact.

“Mmm say it…”

“I acknowledge you, daddy,” she whispered before wrapping her lips around his tip and putting as much of him in her mouth as she could. She kept her eyes on him while sucking as his mouth slightly fell open with his head falling back. He was holding up her hair with his right hand in a slightly tight grip but she didn’t even care. She loved that he was in this vulnerable state as she had all the control to make him completely convulse and let go in her mouth.

“Fuck baby just like that…take daddy’s dick like the good girl you are…” he struggled to finish his sentence as he groaned in pure satisfaction.

She studied him as he let out shaky pants while his left arm gripped the back arm of the couch so tight that his knuckles were turned white. She liked seeing him completely fall apart slipping out of character due to her mouth driving him completely fucking insane. Her mouth & tongue quickened the pace as she moaned around his length. He struggled to stay still and bucked his hips forward wanting her to take it all. His dick was so thick and big that she started gagging because of the struggle to fit it all in her mouth…but she didn’t give a fuck. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying fulfilling the tribal chief’s desires.

“fuuuuck I’m cumming baby…” he groaned as she felt him getting close with tears prickling in her eyes from gagging on his dick. He gently pulled her hair back to take her off him and he let out a low moan as her tongue flicked on his tip once again. He quickly came down from his high to recover and immediately channeled his dominance.

“Open that pretty mouth for me baby girl,” he ordered as he jerked himself with his left hand.

She obeyed as she opened her mouth & stuck out her tongue keeping her eyes locked with his. He hummed and licked his lips and came all on her tongue as it dropped to the back of her throat. Droplets of his cum landed on her chest as they started swirling down to her breasts. He smirked at the sight of his mess all over his princess.

“Swallow for daddy…” he instructed in a deep whisper.

She obeyed swallowing every last drop of his seed. He wiped the leftovers on the corner of her mouth with his thumb and grazed it over her lips.

“Say it,” he whispered slowly sticking his thumb in her mouth not taking his eyes off hers as she sucked it off and removed her mouth from his touch with a final slow lick.

“I acknowledge you…my tribal chief,” she responded with a raspy voice. He gestured for her to come sit on his lap with the flick of his finger. She was face to face with her man as he pressed his tongue flat on her chest licking up what was left of her neck and leaving soft kisses. He cupped her face as their lips were inches away before he praised her with the words she melted for once again.

“Mhm. that’s my good girl.”

---- thank you for reading! this is the first fanfic i’ve written so i hope y'all liked it :)

you can read more of my fics here ❤️‍🔥

tag list: @harmshake @cyberdejos2

#wwe #roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #head of the table #the tribal chief #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns x y/n

690 notes · View notes

vlrghoes · 1 month

Text

What Once Was | Roman Reigns

Author’s Note: I know I was meant to post Legal Affairs first but this idea has been in my head for so long and I wanted to take the plunge into writing it as I felt I could connect with the characters and the storyline more and managed to already write my first chapter (currently editing.) In future I will finally post Legal Affairs

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black! Oc

Status: In progress, first chapter to be posted by 25/8/24

TW: Death, grief, overall dark chapter, pregnancy complications (?)

Let me know if you want to be on my tag list and I’ll tag you in future chapters

Joseph Anoa’i is at the peak of his career, his wife Ayanna, dies suddenly during childbirth on the night of his greatest victory at WrestleMania. Overcome with guilt and grief, Joseph is left to navigate the challenges of single parenthood with their newborn twins, struggling to balance the weight of his loss with the demands of raising his children alone.

Years later, Joseph has stepped away from the wrestling spotlight to devote himself to his sons. When he enrolls them in the daycare run by Kimora, a dedicated teacher battling her own health issues—PCOS and the aftermath of an ectopic pregnancy that left her with one fallopian tube—he finds himself slowly drawn to her. Kimora’s compassion and resilience offer a glimmer of hope for both Joseph and his children.

As Kimora helps Joseph’s son with a potential dyslexia diagnosis, she and Joseph begin to form a deep, yet tentative bond. Both must confront their past wounds and navigate their fears about the future.

Joseph and Kimora must face the challenge of reconciling their pasts with their present. As they find solace in each other, they must decide whether they can let go the pain of what once was and embrace the hope of what could be.

Chapter One | Chapter Two

#roman reigns #liyah’s literature #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x black oc #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wwe imagine #wwe x black oc

109 notes · View notes

sillyteecup · 2 months

Text

The Wrong Way

Roman Reigns x black!o.c

Jey Uso x black!o.c

Chapter 4

Warnings:

18+

Strong language

Misogyny

Mention of sexual assault

Taglist: @wrestlingprincess80 @nbanenefrmdao @vebner37 @theninthwonder @tshepisho @lensilver2 @trentybenty @empressdede @queen-shadow22 @becauseimher @jstarr86 @jaded-human @c-sgolden

A.N: This took me too damn long😭😭in my defense though, school has been drowning me and I've barely had the time to get this done quick enough, but ke...what can be said? Anyway, here is chapter 4 of The Wrong Way. I hope you like it. Enjoy❤️

Lori did not believe in setting expectations for people. As it was, she tried to keep her social interactions with anyone she did not know or trust to a minimal. Being a certified introvert, she thought it to be unrealistic to hold people to any social standards before speaking to them. All expectations bred disappointments as life is fickle. Human beings weren't nearly as fickle as life, but they could never be the exception to the rule.

All of that to say, she didn't know what to expect from the Tribal Prince Jey, as the first they met he grinned at her as though she were a piece of meat, and then the second time he glared at her like a foe. Now they were seated opposite each other in the matte black suv that Paul assigned to them, and he still had a scowl on his face.

"Have we met perhaps?" Lori questioned, breaking the heavy silence.

Jey tilted his head, features dancing between confusion and wondering if she was just stupid. "What?" he asked.

"Well you've been glaring at me since I landed, so I couldn't help but wonder if we had crossed paths and I happened to have wronged you by chance," she said indignantly, her irritation at his current expression slowly boiling.

"You're one to talk, when you don't look like the happiest trooper yourself," Jey said evenly, trying to keep an iron grip on his temper.

"Well I'm sure you can agree that there is nothing to be happy about as it stands," Lori pointed out bitterly.

Jey's face scrunched up in mild annoyance. "Yet you asked to ride with me. And for what? So you can shit on me for not acting like everything is sunshine and rainbows?" Jey spat, getting angrier by the sexond.

"I asked for you to accompany me so that we could perhaps get to know each other and maybe figure out a way to make this work, not have you sit there pouting like some petulant child who was denied pudding after dinner!" Lori hissed, finally losing her temper.

She watched as Tribal Prince Jey sat in his seat, jaw clenching as he likely fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze till she was dead. If only he knew that she had the same thoughts swimming around her mind.

"Says the immature little bitch that threw a tantrum in the middle of a meeting because things weren't going her way," Jey said venomously.

"Tribal Prince Jey I assure you that while I respect your royal standing, I cannot allow you to call me out of my name. I shall hold my tongue because I was raised to be a respectable young lady, but-" she had begun to rant before being cut off by a mirthles chuckle from Jey.

"Respectable? Girl you a whole ass ho that runs around serving up pussy to every man that smiles at you," he said maliciously.

At this, Lori's heart stopped. Her hands began to tremble as tears threatened to spill form her eyes. She mentally condemned her father to hell for the way he painted the loss of her virginity as her being promiscuous. She had always rued the day she trusted him to understand and empathize with her for what actually happened that night. But now, at this very moment, she hated him for this false portrait he had sold of her to this family. He threw her trauma like a piece of raw meat into a den of lions. One day, he would pay.

"You do not know anything about me," she said, tone lowering as she seethed in rage.

There was another one of those mirthles laughs. "I don't need to. And frankly, I don't want to. Just 'cause we engaged, don't mean I need to coddle your feelings or be your friend or whatever the fuck you were hoping to achieve here!"

Lori bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from speaking out of line. Just because he was an insulant fool, it did not mean she had to stoop this level down in hell to defend herself. She was a woman of honor and dignity; there was no place in her mind that was reserved for engaging in petty spats with an individual such as Tribal Prince Jey.

"If that is what you so wish, then very well," she said evenly, marking him as dead to her.

No one could say she did not try.

➽──────────────❥

Roman, Paul and Sami arrived at the family mansion, or "the palace" as they usually called it, to find Miss Loreal Moore with her maidens, and Jey waiting for them. While the maidens each took in the courtyard with awe, Jey and his fiancé seemed disgruntled.

"Damnit," Roman whispered to himself. Even after the clear warning he had given Jey, his cousin did not cooperate. Roman could not let his incompetence slide as it would set a bad example to his brothers and the rest of their cousins. But he would deal with that later.

"The lady looks unhappy, my Tribal Chief," Paul pointed out, only adding to the grating of Roman's nerves.

"Wiseman, please tell me something. Do I look blind maybe?" Roman questioned him sarcastically, to which he shook his head rapidly while stammering for an answer.

"N-no, never my-my Tribal Chief. Your eyesight is absolutely perfect. 20/20 vision I would say-" Paul rambled, attempting to calm Roman down before he angered him even further.

"Then what made you feel the need to point out something that I can so obviously fucking see?" Roman said through gritted teeth. Everybody just seemed keen on trying his patience today and he couldn't understand why.

"I apologize my tribal Chief. But, may I ask, are there any plans by chance that the Tribal Chief may have to sway the lady in our favor?" Paul genuinely asked. If there was one thing Roman appreciated about his Wiseman, it was his dedication to the family. However Roman couldn't let his real plans be known, as one of the pieces to his little chess game was in the front seat.

"The best we can do right now is be hospitable. Show her that she's in the right place," Roman said before flashing a smile at Sami through the rearview mirror. "Ain't that right Sami?" he asked Sami in what has half a joke and half a threat.

Sami caught onto this and his lips curled up nervously. "Yes my Tribal Chief, definitely," he laughed nervously, earning a pat on the shoulder from Roman.

"Wiseman, get my door," Roman commanded while keeping his eyes on Sami. The moment Paul left the car, Roman leaned in to whisper into Sami's ear. "You and Miss Loreal Moore friends, Sami?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"She's been very kind to me my Tribal Chief," was all Sami said.

"I hope you've been returning the energy. After all, she might need a new friend around here," Roman whispered, sounding genuinely concerned for the lady.

"Oh, yes definitely, my Tribal Chief. I have shown Miss Loreal Moore nothing but kindness and I would be happy to be her friend if she allowed it," Sami rambled nervously. Roman moved back and smiled.

"Good, good. You're a good man Sami," he said, ending the conversation right before Paul finished announcing his presence and opened his door.

Right as he stepped out, Ms Loreal Moore's sharp gaze shot into his direction. "Miss Loreal Moore, you seem displeased-" Roman began to say, being cut off by his cousin's fiancé.

"I wish to go home. Now," she stated, her voice trembling as she struggled to hold it together.

Roman was taken aback by her demand. Her tone sounded to him like she had likely been angered or triggered by something Jey said. His neutral gaze quickly shifted into questioning glare towards Jey, who only scowled and turned away.

"I'm sure that whatever that happened to to make you wanna do that can be fixed. I don't know you well but you seem like a smart, mature and level headed woman. So let's just-" Roman began to say to calm her down only it be interrupted again. Which was beginning to get on his nerves.

"That thing you just did; attempting to soothe my ego to gaslight me into agreeing with whatever" solution" you were going to come up with? I hate it. It is an insult to my intelligence. And from what I can see, this family seems to be built on the foundation of insulting those they feel are lesser beings to them! I am by no means a fool! I know why that-" she took a breath to control herself mid-rant before continuing.

"I know why my father sold me to you people. I did not expect to be treated kindly or for this to be a fairytale of sorts, hell I did not even expect to be treated with integrity. But what I cannot take is being refferred to by obscene words, and then having my intelligence insulted less than 4 minutes later. If this is how it is to carry on going forward, then I would rather you put me on the next flight back to my home, so that I may live out the rest of my days in unmarried bliss," she finally finished before letting out a heavy exhale.

Roman clenched his jaw and nodded. He began to rethink every time he said Naomi was too stubborn for her own good. Compared to Miss Loreal Moore, Naomi was child's play. Even though she always gently kept them grounded, she had never outright called them out on their bullshit. Let alone on her first day on the island. As much as Roman appreciated this woman's strength, he also understood that she was going to be a nasty piece of work to mould into their image. Yet he found himself enticed by the challenge. Clearly he would have to break her and rebuild her in an image he saw fit. And one thing about Roman? He enjoyed playing God. But he would have to be smart about this. She had already seen through his first trick, which to be fair he hadn't even thought was one to begin with. He was just used to solving problems like that. Nevertheless, he was going to have to get far smarter than he ever had.

"I see. Wiseman, show them to their rooms. They've all had a pretty long day and are in no state to travel right now," he commanded, noticing the storm grow in Miss Loreal's eyes.

"Miss Loreal Moore, I shall speak with you tomorrow morning at 07:00 once you've had enough sleep," he added, hoping to quell her still rising temper.

Her eyes narrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek. It was as if she had realized that now that Roman had made his choice, there was no arguing. At least she held authority to a high regard to some extent.

➽──────────────❥

Skin illuminated by the sun rising, Lori took in the appearance of her room. The walls were a dull dull beige that contrasted poorly with the dark oak doors and large, arched windows. The curtains were a glaringly bright red, an irritating sight that drove Lori to open the curtains at the crack of dawn. They with the bedding sets and the velvet couch on the other end of the room. It was big, more spacious than the one back home. She hadn't bothered to check the size of the closet as she had no intentions staying long. The carpet and sheets were black, along with the blackwood vanity set. The whole room was dreadful.

And so was this family. Lori's mind had been flooded with predictions of how the Tribal Chief would try to coax her into staying. Having caught on to his tactic yesterday and with the understanding of the weight this marriage holds, she figured that Tribal Chief Roman would likely attempt slither his way into her mind to convince her that all of this was worth it in the end.

And maybe it was, but a few words dipped in caramel would not suffice in proving that to Lori. She glanced at the huge round clock on the wall next to the bathroom door, 05:30. Her maidens had insisted on making sure that they were at her side by five o'clock sharp, however Lori resisted. Insisting that she would much prefer if for the first time in a very long time, they rested. They deserved it. And her parents were not there to tell them otherwise.

After bathing and moisturising in complete solitude for the first time since she was born, she took the long-sleeved cotton sundress that. Minerva had picked out and ironed for her, and put it on. Lori then moved to sit by her vanity and frowned. She had never done her own hair before, and now with the bonnet covering her braided hair, the lack of experience had come back to bite her in the ass. From what she had observed in Willow doing her hair, her long, voluminous afro was no easy feat when it came to styling.

What if I just woke Willow up to help with my hair, then immediately after, she goes back to sleep? That would not be cruel would it?

Her pondering of her dilemma was interrupted by a knock on the door. Confused, Lori checked the time again, 06:30. Could the girls already be awake? She stood up from the stool and cautiously made her way to the door. The knock sounded again, right as her hand had touched the handle. Finally she opened, and on the other side was the last person she had expected to see.

"Sami? What are you going here so early?" she asked him. As nice as he was, and as much as she planned to utilise him if things went south, Lori was still guarded when faced with all the members of the Bloodline. After all, who was to say it wasn't an act?

He stook tall in her doorway with a boyish grin. He sported a black Nike t-shirt and sweats with sneakers to complete the ensemble. "Good morning Lori! Tribal Chief said I should swing by and check if you're ready," he explained cheerfully. His grin however faltered when he took note of the bonnet.

"What?" Lori said, noticing the change in expression. Sami grimaced in response and gestured for her to let him in. Hesitantly, Lori stepped to the side only for Sami to usher her back to the vanity. "Sami what is the meaning of this?" she demanded only for Sami to gently push her into the chair and smile at her through the mirror.

"You don't know how to do your hair do you?" he asked slyly, causing her eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

"How did you know?" she questioned, wondering what had given her ineptitude away.

"Educated guess," Sami shrugged as his hand hovered over her bonnet. "May I?" he asked, earning a nod from Lori which prompted him to remove it, revealing her hair. "Wow," Sami gasped as he felt the soft texture of her hair.

"What's wrong?" Lori asked in concern, not sure how to take Sam's reaction to her hair.

"Nothing, it's just-I've seen healthy, beautiful long hair before but this? God, your mom must love you," Sami said, still in awe of the sight before him.

Lori just wore a wry smile at the last comment. While she was sure that Sami meant no harm as he was unaware of her relationship with her family, he still struck a nerve. When speaking of her connection with her mother, Sami wasn't asking, but Lori had been for the longest time. And by the looks of it, she would never get an answer.

"Actually, Willow is the mastermind. Before that it was her mother. The two of them have been so kind to my hair in the way they have taken care of it. In fact, I would probably have cut it all off had it not been for them," Lori explained, notes of gratitude in the way she spoke. Willow and Mrs Graham had been taking care of her hair and keeping it healthy since she was born. They were the real heroes.

"Either way, they are hair goddesses," Sami chuckled as he began to braid Lori's hair.

That's when it dawned on her. "You know how to do hair?" she questioned, eyeing Sami suspiciously as his red locks were out and untamed.

"Yup, an old friend taught me," he replied, not seeing the way she looked at him.

"And where is she now?" Lori asked curiously as Sami kept unbraiding and gently detangling.

Sami glanced at her through the mirror, eyes gleaming with a hint of sorrow. "She-uh, got married," he said before clearing his throat. He was then quick to change the subject to how he barely saw the point in styling his anymore since the island's climate was never kind to it. Lori zoned out as he rambled on and on, watching as he carefully brushed and styled her hair into a simple low ponytail with a puff at the bottom, completing the look with sleek baby hairs.

A white man can do my hair better than me? I need to up my game.

Despite the huge favour he had done for her, Lori still couldn't help but be unconvinced. Apart from him, she had met two direct members of the Bloodline, and both of them have proven to be...unappealing for lack of better words. Why would she trust that Sami hadn't had the same ideals indoctrinated in him. After all, as much as he was "an outsider", he had still been there longer than her. And since he did not offer the family prospects of wealth as far as she understood, there had to be another, more sinister reason to keep him around. If only she had thought of this on the plane yesterday.

"Sami, why are you helping me?" Lori asked, her trust issues suddenly flaring up.

"Because you're cool, duh," he replied as if it were obvious.

"Cool?" Lori questioned, unsure what he implied with the term. Her father had always considered that kind of language to be juvenile and forbid it around the house, however Lori had heard it time and again at her old University and during the two years when Lord Byron had allowed her to go to a private high school to graduate instead of finishing with a home school education. Still though, she was not very familiar with the context of the word.

"Y'know, good, nice. Cool," he simply said. Although he was not clear, Lori understood just fine.

"Oh okay. Lovely." If Sami was acting, he sure was doing an amazing job at it. Either way, her oncoming talk with the Tribal Chief would determine whether or not it mattered.

➽──────────────❥

"The Tribal Chief requested that I escort you to his office."

Tribal Chief Roman's office was cold...fitting the stories she had been told of the man who inhabited it. Perhaps it was the intense air conditioning, or maybe it was the lack of a personal touch to it's decor. Either way, apart from the spread out red and black furniture pieces, it was rather dull. Lori doubted he cared to much about the aesthetics anyway.

She had been seated on the black couch situated next to the door, about 5 feet away from his desk where he sat, nose buried in his work. Her eyes followed the clock's hands as time slowly ticked by, foreshadowing her slow and agonising ego death, should she choose to stay here. It had been 3p minutes and the man hadn't said a thing aside from "Have a seat." Part of her felt like there was an angle he was playing at here. A psychological one that she couldn't quite point out. Perhaps he was asserting dominance by making her wait on his time. If that was the case, then the one he had hoped to present would not hold up too well.

Her eyes scanned the bookshelf to her left. The names on the spines of each book caught her by surprise. While some of the books were typical of what was seemingly his nature, such as The Art of War, the others were unbecoming of what she had noted about him so far. Romance novels.

The rest of the titles were in Samoan and Italian, two languages Lori had not an inkling of an idea about. Still though, the very idea that Roman likely not only spoke these languages, but also read them was somewhat attractive. An observation she mentally chastised herself from. The very reason she had let her sights roam around the office was to avoid settling her gaze on him. Lord knows how he would react to his cousin's fiancé staring at him.

Speaking of his cousins, before she slept, Lori had done everything in her power to cleanse her memory of her interaction with Jey yesterday. Better to pretend it never happened than to let it hold power over her. Her logic was faulty, but it worked. But that did not by any means imply that she would be thrilled about being in the same room as him. The last thing Lori wanted was to be executed for murdering her fiancé. Regardless of how satisfying it would be.

"I take it you slept well?" she suddenly heard Tribal Chief Roman say.

Keeping her gaze on the window behind him, she nodded. The room was ugly but the bed was comfortable. "Yes, my Tribal Chief."

"Good. As a future member of this family it is only fitting that the best is what you are offered," he said, causing her to scoff. His gaze narrowed at the action. "Why do you want to leave?" he asked her, tone completely neutral.

"I was quite clear about my feelings yesterday, my Tribal Chief. I do not appreciate being treated like a street urchin by your family," Lori responded coldly.

Tribal Chief Roman placed his forearms on his desk to lean forward. "What did he say to you?" he asked. His voice had dropped to a dangerously low octave that struck a feeling that Lori was not familiar with in her chest. It was a mix of two feelings really; fear that was all but expected, but more surprisingly, yet minimal, lust.

"Things I would rather not repeat," she said.

"Because you're afraid?" he questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Because I am a lady who refuses to compromise herself by spewing anything unbecoming of me," she retorted with a scoff. Yes, Tribal Chief Roman himself was terrifying, but that was not a sentiment she held towards Jey.

He leaned back into his chair, firm gaze remaining on her. "Whatever it is that he said, does not reflect our views of you. He will be corrected-"

"You mean punished," she commented, cutting into his sentence. She noticed his jaw clench at her interuption and swore she choked on her breath.

"And I will make sure, that nobody else treats you like that again," he finished, patience waning with each word.

"Why go out of your way instead of allowing me to go home?" she questioned, knowing the answer but still wanting him to completely clear up his intentions.

"You said it yourself yesterday. You know why this engagement was arranged; political gain for my family in return of financial gain for yours," he explained with a shrug.

Lori slowly nodded, the sound of the clock ticking re-invading her ears. "Where is he?" she asked. She wasn't sure why she was curious, but she was.

"His house not too far from here. Sami neglected to tell you that you two will not be living together until after your wedding," he explained, causing Lori's eyebrows to shoot to the edge of her hairline.

"How come?"

"Tradition," he stated vaguely. "Some things I have no control over, although something tells me you don't mind," he said, subtly pointing out her already existing grievance with his cousin.

"Do you have control over how often we are to interact?" she asked half-jokingly.

"Don't push it," he responded in a tone similar to hers. "I would advise you not to worry too much about the personal aspects of your engagement. The moment you two are married, you can get your own place nearby and only have to interact during public appearances," he said, tone reverting back to serious.

She fought the urge to ask if that was his arrangement with his wife a she had not seen her yet. Unless of course the divorce rumor was true.

"Until then, I am to stay here with you and Sami?" she inquired.

"Are you comfortable with Sami's presence?" he asked. His omission of her comfort with his own presence did not slide past her though. But she would let it seem as if it had.

"Yes. He is good company," she acknowledged.

"Then he will stay here as well. Anything else?" he asked. An answer immediately came into mind.

"Yes, actually. Could one of your staff perhaps get an interior decorator on the phone?" she requested, taking him aback.

"I do not like how my room looks," she specified, putting him at ease.

"I'll have it arranged as soon as possible. Is that all?"

She nodded wordlessly.

"Good. I'm assuming Sami informed you about today's agenda if you stayed?" Lori shook her head 'no' in response as her features festered into a look of curiosity. Sami must have thought that there was no way in all seven variations of hell she was staying there. Never say never, they say. Tribal Chief Roman ran his hand down his face and sighed, attempting to quell his frustration at Sami omitting this information.

"Today is your welcoming ceremony. The day when you're being introduced to the entire family and our ancestors as Jey's future bride and as a future princess to the people," Roman explained.

Lori's stomach twisted into knots. If there was anything she hated nearly as much as being blindsided to marriage, it was large gatherings and parties. All of those eyes on her, perceiving her always sent her into a spiral. If the very people that conceived her saw her as inadequate, who was to say that these people who did not know her from a table spoon harboured similar sentiments. Not to mention the whispers of gossip that she found mind numbing. A fact that would be hypocritical if Lori herself was a gossip.

She preferred self-preserving journalist anyway.

Nevertheless, she had chosen to stay and become a part of this bloodline that many considered to be of high esteem. Lori had chosen to become Tribal Princess Loreal. No longer Miss Loreal Moore. She would finally be rid of the last tie to her wretched father. If anything, that just sweetens the deal. This ceremony was just the starting point, one she would overcome with poise and grace.

"Is there a specific dress code, my Tribal Chief?"

47 notes · View notes

acknowledge-reigns · 1 year

Text

There Goes My Baby (Roman Reigns x Fem!OC SMUT) 18+!!

Warnings: Dom/sub dynamic, spanking, fingering, vaginal sex, light degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, teasing, bratty sub, filth. Just filth. 18+!! MDNI.

Summary: Lilah decides to be a brat and tease Roman durring a show.

Note: Lilah is a character originally featured in a couple of fics of mine Jealous and 34+35. You do not have to read it to understand this one at all, but you can if you'd like! Face claim for Lilah is Jaylen Barron.

Lilah excitedly took her seat in the front row of the arena, She didn't have a match of her own on the card tonight so she got to participate as a fan and watch Roman do his thing up close. The best part?Roman assumed she'd be watching from backstage as usual. He had no idea she'd be right there in the front row. Some days Lilah just felt like being a brat. Today was one of those days.

Dressed in a sexy outfit that showed off her ample cleavage. A little black dress that hugs her curves just right in all the right places. It wasn't over the top revealing but she knew that tonight she was going to drive him crazy. She paired it with some matching heels and her signature necklace that had the letter J for "Joe" on it. This particular dress was his favorite, and everytime she wore it he just couldn't wait to get her out of it. The anticipation sent a shiver down her spine.

Roman's entrance music blared through the speakers, and the crowd erupted standing to their feet with their one finger in the air to acknowledge him. Lilah's heart raced as she caught a glimpse of him making his way towards the ring. The intensity in his eyes was unmistakable.

Lilah leaned forward, ensuring her curves were on full display, knowing that every movement she made would be etched in Roman's mind. As he stepped into the ring, his gaze locked with hers, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

The match began, and Roman effortlessly dominated his opponent, showcasing his incredible strength and overall greatness. But as the match progressed, Lilah noticed him occasionally breaking character, his eyes wandering towards her, unable to resist her seductive allure. There's a reason they call her "The Succubus".

With each glance, Roman's desire grew more intense. He couldn't help but mimic taking off his belt, a playful gesture that sent a clear message: she was going to get it later. The crowd, unaware of the intimate connection between the two regarded it as part of his performance but Lilah knew and she couldn't help but giggle.

As the match came to a dramatic climax, Roman hit his opponent with a powerful spear before pinning him to the mat. The crowd erupted in excitement and disbelief and the usual range of emotions you see at the end of a match, but Roman's gaze remained fixed on Lilah.

As the show ended, Roman made his way backstage to his locker room where Lilah was supposed to meet him. When she knocked on the door, He opened it and grabbed her hand, pulling inside and towards him with a fierce determination. The raw desire in his eyes was electrifying as he closed the door and locked it.

His grip firm yet gentle. Behind closed doors, the intensity between them both exploded, his hands exploring every inch of her body with an intensity that left her breathless. The raw desire in his eyes mirrored her own.

Roman's kisses were a mixture of tenderness and hunger, his lips trailing down Lilah's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She couldn't help but gasp and moan with pleasure, amplifying his desire even more. The sound of his deep, husky voice filled the room as he whispered promises of ecstasy in her ear. Every word sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fire within her that burned hotter with every passing moment.

With a commanding yet gentle touch, Roman guided her towards the nearest wall, pressing his body against hers. The intensity of his gaze was captivating, as if he could see into the depths of her soul.

He wasted no time in removing her clothes, his hands tracing the curves of her body with reverence. The air crackled with anticipation as he pressed himself against her, his hardness evident through his wrestling gear. "Little fucking tease." Roman growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Daddy." Lilah teased playing innocent.

"I'm talking about that slutty little outfit, babygirl. How you knew I was gonna be dying to rip it off of you." Roman stated, his lips found hers once again, the kiss deepening as the desire between them intensified. "Such a naughty girl," Roman said as he softly smiled, tilting her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "And what does a naughty girl deserve?"

Lilah looked up at him, a blush on her face, a mixture of excitement and fear filling her. "A spanking, Daddy," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. She had been teasing him, and she enjoyed taunting him in a playful way, but she also knew that she deserved to be punished... and it all turned her on even more.

He pulled her over to the bench and over his knee swiftly. "You remember your Safeword, baby?" Roman asked as his hand brushes over her bare ass.

"Pickles" Lilah repeated the safe word.

"Good girl." Roman says.

Roman's hand came down hard on Lilah's bare ass, with a firm and dominant smack that reverberated and echoed throughout the room. Lilah moaned, her body jolted from the sensation. It was like a jolt of electricity running through her body, and she had to fight to keep her breath. She wanted more.

*SMACK*

His hand came down again, and this time, Lilah's body shivered as she took the spanking, soaking in that delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

Lilah feels Roman push her thighs apart exposing her glistening pussy to him. He runs a finger slowly, deliberately through her wetness. His hands wander and his thumb ghosts over her clit. She whimpered, her body begging for more.

"So wet for me." Roman chuckled deeply, bringing his coated fingers up to her lips. Lilah instantly begin to suck them clean, her eyes fluttering closed in pure bliss. She releases his fingers with a slight pop, and feels an unexpected slap on her ass. She yelped from the unexpected smack, her hand instinctively going back to protect her already stinging ass from another blow. Roman easily grips both of her hands in one of his, holding them securely against her back. Lilah felt herself growing more aroused by the second. "Naughty little brat." Roman smirked, "My naughty little brat though." He adds as his hand comes down again. This one not quite as hard, but still leaving a sting and a reddening patch of flesh in it's wake.

"Daddy.." Lilah whimpered needing more. More of his touch, whether it brought with it more pain, pleasure or both. "Fuck me. Please." She begged.

Answering her pleas, he placed her on her hands and knees on the padded bench and positioned himself behind her.

The room filled with the intoxicating scent of passion and the rhythmic sounds of their bodies moving together in perfect harmony, skin slapping against skin.

Time seemed to stand still as the night unfolded, with each moment becoming more intense and filled with pleasure. Roman proved himself to be not only a dominant force in the ring but also as usual a master of pleasure behind closed doors.

As the night drew to a close, they both basked in the afterglow, feeling the warmth of his body against hers as he whispered reassuring romantic words to her, telling her how well she did. Lilah smiled. Her front-row distraction had gone even better than planned.

"I wouldn't change this feeling for nothing..." Roman said.

#roman reigns #the tribal chief #wwe roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #the only one #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #head of the table #the head of the table

145 notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 28 days

Text

TIL FURTHER NOTICE - THE REACTIONS

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

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

All OC Characters belong to me

Summary: He's been gone for 4 months. 118 days without a phone call or a text. What happens when he finally shows back up to work? Will he give Kaela the answers she's looking for?

Parings: Roman Reigns x Black OC

AN: I have a little writers block. I started this as a way to try to get rid of said writers block lmao

ROMAN FINALLY SPOTTED AFTER LOST TO CODY RHODES AT WRESTLEMANIA 40

REPLY 1: FINALLY A ROMAN SPOTTING AFTER 4 MONTHS!

REPLY 2: OH SHIT! HE LOOKS SO GUUUUURD!!

REPLY 3: Wait! didn't it get posted on here that he was fucking w/ Kalea

REPLY 4 : This is not KALEA

REPLY 5: OOP! OH SHIT THIS IS MESSSSSSSYYYYY

REPLY 6:

REPLY 7: I told yall he wasnt leaving his wife 😭 this is exactly why you don't mess with married men 🤣🫵🏽

REPLY 8: THE POST SAYS EX WIFE, they're divorced. I followed Rachel before she made her page private.

REPLY 9: She posted this back in January

REPLY 10: Kalea don't seem like the homewrecker type...

REPLY 11: I mean, you never know.. maybe she is the reason for the divorce... you know what they say, how you get them is how you lose them... i don't feel bad for ms. homewrecker 🤣🤷🏽‍♀️

REPLY 12: yall so miserable on here, nobody knows the full truth.

REPLY 13: the full truth is, she was messing with a married man and he went back to his wife.. karma got her ass..

REPLY 14: THEY NEVER LEAVE THE WIFE!

REPLY 15: what part of divorce do you not understand!

REPLY 16: I went to college w. Kalea and she would never do some shit like that!

REPLY 17: Kalea, is that you? 😭🫵🏽

REPLY 18:

REPLY 19:

REPLY 20: Y'all are funnyyyyy 😂

Authors Note: NGL, writer's block is kicking my ass with all of my stories. I know this isn't part two but hopefully, y'all still like it ❤️

The text message is between Bianca and Jade... I should have mentioned that lol

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

🏷️: @paigereeder @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @jaethaone

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @zillasvilla @thatone-girly

@xmonetsworld @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @alyyaanna

@li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste @trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa

@bebesobrielo @bookuce @rianasixx @kat3457 @queeny23

@privateeyed95 @cyberdejos2 @justazzi @jstarr86 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

@vampygomez @msbigredmachine @ashyknee @callmekayd @Yana3sworld

@romansthrone @alichesmi @amandairene88 @lurkinwbreexy @rwbypatootie

@rose-bliss @xbriexx @lovelyhunnys @woahthatshitfat @blacst4r

@thedondada05 @nbanenefrmdao @tshepisho @girlsg1rl @sparxx27

@loloschive @joshuafatubaee @pittieprincess22 @sayyestoheav3nn

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x black oc #wwe x fem reader #wwe fanfiction #wwe black fanfiction

95 notes · View notes

bookuce · 4 months

Text

I Hate You, I Love You (Roman Reigns) -- One Shot

Summary: It's Date Night for Mariah and Joe, but it doesn't go as planned. Insecurities were revealed. Words went flying, but it's okay. He's going to make her take it all back.

DISCLAIMER: Outside of the OC, I do not own any character mentioned. The real names of wrestlers are used in my writings. In this, Joe is Roman Reigns. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE. THAAAAANKS.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x Black OC

WARNINGS: Smut, Language, 18+, NSFW

WORD COUNT: 2,435

The front door to Mariah and Joe’s home swung open, bouncing off the wall behind it. “Get the fuck away from me.” She hisses, making sure to slam the door behind her. A shoulder stops it, forcing the door to open and hit the wall again. Dinner didn’t go as planned, and the entire drive home, she and him argued.

“Quit slamming doors in my fucking house, Mariah!” He shouts after her, slamming the door behind him. Mariah marched angrily up the stairs, her fingers fumbling with her earrings. She just wanted to get out of this stupid outfit.

“Fuck you, Joe.” She spat.

“Ay, watch your mouth.” He warns her. Joe would follow her up the stairs, his feet making thunderous sounds with each step he took. She enters the bedroom, walking over to her nightstand. “You’re always blowing things out of proportion.” That pissed her off. She grabs the lamp on the nightstand, sending it hurtling towards him. He dodges it, turning to watch it shatter against the wall.

“Don’t you dare try to flip this on me! I wasn’t the one eye fucking the waitress all night!” She shouts, pointing at him. “I try to do something nice for your ass—for us, and you make me look fucking dumb! You fucking pig! I fucking hate you!” Mariah’s body was shaking with rage, her body hot with anger. She’d clench and unclench her fists while she glared at him. He looks at her, his brows furrowing. He didn’t play any of that hate shit.

“Girl, are you out of your goddamn mind?” He says, stomping around the bed towards her. His hand reaches out, but she shoves it away.

“What did I just tell you!” She shouts at him. He reaches for her again, his advances falling short once more. “Get away—.”He snatches her arm up, yanking her towards him. They were now flush against each other, Joe towering over her. His large hand grasped wavy locks before pulling her head back to look at him.

“Say it again.” He growls.

Her heart was racing wildly in her chest thanks to this argument. Emotions were high, and there was a tingle in her throat. Her chest rose and fell with short breaths. She’d lock onto those brown eyes, tears beginning to fill her own. She’d blink quickly, ridding herself of the blurs her tears caused. She’d swallow back the urge to cry, her stare hardening. “I said I hate you—.” Before she could finish that sentence, Joe’s lips were on hers.

She’d press her lips tight together, protesting his kiss. He’d let go of her arm, his hand immediately reaching around to grab a handful of ass. It was his go-to move every time she stonewalled him. She’d let out a moan, allowing her mouth to fill with his tongue. Her mouth began to move against his own, returning his angry kiss. It was impressive how quickly she gave in to him when she was mad. He was a wrecking ball to every strong foundation she had ever built. Slender fingers travel up the lapel of his suit jacket before reaching around to connect at the back of his neck.

Joe’s hands would move from their places in her hair and on her ass, finding the neckline on the back of her dress. His fingers tried to find the zipper, but he would quickly get irritated with the hunt. They’d wrap around the neck, ripping the dress right down the center of her back. His hands would travel along the growing split, exposing her backside. Cold air rushed at her body, quickly raising goosebumps. His left hand traveled back up, now wrapping around the back of her neck. He’d grip it roughly, pulling her back from the kiss. She’d let out a pant at the unexpected motion but sharply gasped when he shoved her body into the comforter on their bed. He releases her neck, his hands pulling her arms back. He’d hold her wrists in one hand.

“Take it back.” He demands.

She lifts her head, her hair now a mess. “I hate you.” She says again. He’d strike her right ass cheek, causing her to yelp. The sensation from the sting traveled up her back, making her arch. “Fuck,” she says under her breath, letting her head drop back into the thick blanket.

“Don’t make me tell you again.” He says, his voice stern. She ignores his warning, remaining quiet. “Oh, now you have nothing to say.” His hand would collide with that cheek again, hitting in the same spot. Riah sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to stop herself from reacting. A red, hand-shaped welt would appear on her skin. “Now, I can do this all night; it’s all up to you.” He boasts, bringing his hand down for a third time.

“God!” She cries out. “I—I take it back!” She moves her hips in an attempt to ease the burn.

He releases her hands, allowing them to drop to her sides. “Apologize.” He says calmly. Joe shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it neatly across the bed beside her. He unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, folding them up past his elbows. Even though she surrendered, he and she knew he was far from finished. She presses her palms into the soft bedding, slowly pushing herself up.

“I’m sorry.” She breathes. The front of her dress would slip down her arms, exposing her breasts. She peers up from the curtain of messy black hair, her eyes finding her disheveled appearance in the grand mirror against the wall.

“That’s not good enough for me.” He says, her head dropping at his words. Oh, for fucks sake, she thought. Suddenly, he pulls her head back, causing her to gasp. Her hands reach back for his shirt, barely grasping the fabric. “Say it right. Daddy, I’m sorry. I’ll never say it again. I love you, Daddy. I need you, Daddy. Forgive me, fuck me, Daddy.” He says into her ear, mocking her tone of voice. “That’s what I want to hear.” He confesses. His breath was heavy in her ear, causing her to shiver. She’d move against his crotch, squeezing her legs tight at the arousal she was feeling. She could feel his bulge against her backside and just knew he was aching to free it. She just had to say the words.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whimpers.

“Say it again.” He purrs, nodding his head.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“And?” He presses. Joe’s attention now turns to the mirror, a devious smile on his face. He reaches up, pulling the front of her dress down more.

“I’ll never say it again.” She adds. His large hand cups a breast, massaging it slowly. His thumb would flick her sensitive nipple, causing her to moan.

“Go on.” He whispers.

“I love you, Daddy.” She continues, her hips still moving against his. The friction would cause him to give her a moan. Mariah smirked at the reward.

“I love you.” He replies. His tongue would drag up her neck, flicking her earlobe. If he could, he’d devour her and leave nothing behind. She’d shift her hips once more, the tension in her loins growing by the second.

“I need you, Joe.” She says, opting for his name. He’d drop her back to the bed, and she’d sigh at the relief her neck felt. He’d wedge his knee between her legs, pushing her legs open. “Fuck me.” She breathes.

“Fuck me what?” He asks. His hands grabbed the tattered dress she wore, ripping it more to expose her lower half to him. She wore no underwear with plans of their evening ending on a good note. Technically, it still was, but the outcome was different now. His hand would find the heat between her legs, his fingers becoming soaked in her wetness. His middle and index would push through her folds, finding her throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” She moans.

“Good girl.” He cooed at her, his fingers massaging the cluster of nerves at her center. She whimpered softly, her hips winding against his hand slowly. “We’re gonna fix that attitude.” He removes his hand from her glistening folds, his hand now having the same shine. He’d bring his hand to his lips, taking both fingers into his mouth. He sucks her fluids off his hand, humming softly at the sweet taste. Riah relaxes into the mattress, sighing softly.

The unfastening of a belt could be heard behind Mariah, followed by the sound of a zipper. Joe pushed his pants past his hips, his cock flopping out from the confines of his trousers. He’d position himself at her opening before slowly pressing into her. She’d suck in a breath when she felt him insert her, a loud moan shaking her core. “Hush all that up.” He says, teasing her now. His hips move slowly within her, allowing her walls to adjust to him comfortably. “You done ran that mouth too much tonight.” He slams his hips into hers once.

“F-Fuck.” She stammers.

“Talking about you hate me.” Slam. “You don’t hate me. You can never hate me.” Slam. “You love me, can’t get enough of me, can’t live without me.” His hands grip her hips. “I don’t hate you either,” He breathes. “But I’ma fuck you like I do.” His hips began to pound into her, causing her to cry out in pleasure. Her hands would feel along the comforter before gathering the fabric by the fistfuls. She pulls it towards her, revealing the black satin sheets beneath the large blanket.

“J-Joe!” She moans. “Ah, Joe—fuck!” He’d reach down, pulling her head up slightly.

“Look at yourself.” He says, talking about the mirror. Watching him degrade her in the most disgusting of ways only made her more aroused. “Done made me ruin a good dress.”

“I’m sorry,” She whimpers.

“Yeah, you better be.” He groans. “Fuck, Riah.” He lifts a hand to unbutton his shirt. Bit by bit, his shirt would reveal that chest piece she loved to kiss so much. Her fingers now ached to touch it.

Her legs would begin to tremble with each thrust. Her body became overwhelmed with pleasure. Oh, she was close. “I’m gonna cum!” She chokes out. Her walls begin to clench against him, her legs increasingly getting worse. Suddenly, he pulls out, stripping her of any chance of release. His hand releases her hair, and she drops back into the bed. “Please!” She begs, making him laugh.

“Please!” He mocks her again. “What happened to all that mouth you had earlier, hm? Slamming my doors, breaking my shit.” He tsks at her, his head shaking in disappointment. “Not so tough now, are you?” He flips her onto her back. She’d land with her hands by her head. He grabs the shredded dress, ridding her body of it completely. He balls it up and tosses it to the side.

Mariah covers her face, trying to give herself a moment to compose herself. Her cheeks were hot, her face damp with sweat. Rough fingers wrap around her ankles and pull her to the edge of the bed. She drops her hands from her face, glaring up at Joe. He places both legs on his shoulders. “You can get that look off your face.” He tells her, pressing into her again. Her eyes would close in bliss, a soft sigh leaving her lips.

Joe begins to lean over her body. The pressure in her abdomen building as he did so. He was folding her in half, and she could only imagine what he had planned. Her legs would slide up his shoulders, crossing at the ankles. His hips would resume their vigorous motions, his cock now pushing up into her G-spot. Her hands would slam the bed three times as she cried out in pleasure at him. “Yes!” She exclaims, pushing her hips up into his. “Oh, God, yes!” Her legs trembled like never before, her toes curling hard.

“You hate me?” He asks, panting softly.

“No!” She moans.

“Look at me while I’m talking to you.” He growls. She forced her eyes open, meeting those dark eyes she loved terribly. “You love me?” He asks. She nods her head frantically.

“Yes! I love you, Daddy. I love you so much!” He was once again bringing her close to her climax. The closer she got, the louder her moans became. “I’m—I’m—.” before she could finish that sentence, he’d stop his hips. She let out a scream of frustration, earning a smug grin from her man. He was edging her into insanity. He moves her legs off his shoulders, now wrapping them around his waist.

“Simmer down.” He says, reaching up to fix his bun. Oh, this asshole, she thought. Hairs stood wildly on his head, but he slicked them back against his head.

“Joesph, if you don’t fuck me, I swear to—.” She says, her voice catching in her throat. His hips started moving again, this time extremely slow. This pace did nothing but quickly build her up again. Joe lets out a huff of his own, drawing close to his climax, too.

“No one gets me like this but you.” He tells her. “I don’t give a damn about anyone but you.” His hips begin to pick up speed again. He leans over her again, his fists pressing into the mattress. “Don’t fucking embarrass me like that again.” He says through clenched teeth. His hips collided with her own, filling the room with loud claps of flesh against flesh.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes again. “I’m close, God, I’m so close.” She whines. Her walls began to spasm around his length again, but this time he powered through. He could feel his hips starting to tighten, his thrusts now stuttering. He would give her three more pumps before releasing in her. Her body would erupt with tremors with her orgasm, her back arching off the bed. “Thank you,” she breathes. “Thank—.” Joe would turn her head, playfully pushing it into the mattress. She’d swat his hand away, earning a laugh from him. He pulls out, stepping back from between her legs. Pain would shoot up her legs now that she was finally able to rest them. She winces slightly.

Mariah pushes herself onto her elbows, her chest quickly rising and falling. “Clean yourself up.” He says, fixing his pants. She’d scoff gently, watching after him. He was walking toward the door. He needed water.

“You owe me a dress!” She exclaims after him.

“I know.” He replies, halfway down the stairs.

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

Yeah, lmao please tell me what you think. I plan to cry about it later LMAO. This is literally my second time writing smut. I hope this was good @kawaiigladiatorwolf. Your request was random to me and I don't take them really, but I figured I'd give it a try. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I'm not a fan of y/n and find it hard to follow at times, so I did what was comfortable to me!

Enjoy!

#roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x black oc #Spotify

268 notes · View notes

sugarjar · 25 days

Text

On purpose

Synopsis~Things happen for a reason, of our own will or because of the will of others

Minors beware of your own media consumption

Previous part next part

During collage when he played football and I was a cheerleader we had our first kiss together, which obviously turned into somthing more and more and more. We couldn’t really put our fingers on what we were whenever I’d want to label it he’d start treating me like a regular friend as if we didn’t know what each other tasted like, the sweet spots everywhere you’d have one.

Everything was rocky but smooth but it all came to ahead when Joe really went after his dream of declaring for the draft, we lived together and sometimes I wouldn’t see him for days at a time and he saw no issue always brushing me off as “needing me to be understanding” which started fights because after a while their was no understanding when we didn’t even talk. What was there to understand? Trying to talk about the distance only made things worse, arguments started to get more hostile and loud before he just plain out called me jealous because I didn’t have a purpose in life.

It hurt beyond anything I had experienced before, maybe it was just young love as my momma called it but even now as a grown woman thinking about it makes my eyes well up with tears. After that we broke up as soon as our lease was up and we both moved on we’d never had intertwined circles of friends so it was easy, I focused on school for a major I didn’t want to go into I fell into a deep depression all lone.

I would rot in my apartment or throw myself into working in a wear house that paid that bills, not really having a purpose I’d just float on about my life graduating becoming a kindergarten school teacher before I realized that wasn’t a life. How empty I was is plain embarrassing to admit for a twenty five year old before I finally found it.

I had a way with words and a mouth that could go faster than a gazelle running away from a lion so I became a lawyer specializing in the high profile financial stuff kinda like suits but real and with less malpractice. Going about my fabulous day reading over the news like I do for any morning before a knock sounded on my office doors.

My boss Mrs. Angel Greene strutting in with her red bottoms clacking with her.

“Good morning, I have something I personally want you to handle. Be you!” She said flashing a natural smile before leaving. Picking up the folder I saw a name at the headed contact section and my head started to spin.

Joe

This is just somthing I might start writing if you guys like it enough. Thank you for reading comments, likes and really any love is appreciated.

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #orginal story

53 notes · View notes

overrboarrd · 11 days

Text

roman reigns x rogue [oc]

word count : 3.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol and smoking, vulgar language, suggestive content

a/n: tell a friend to tell a friend…she’s baaack! the first chapter is relatively the same, i just did a few minor changes. i also realized i wanted to switch it from a self-insert to an original character for story purposes. if you’ve read the first version, welcome back! and to those who are new to me, i hope you enjoy! <3

CHAPTER ONE: ACQUAINTED

There was a sea of them.

Loosely unbuttoned Brioni suits.

Platinum Audemar Piguets that glistened underneath scarlet lights.

A nauseating deluge of Creed Aventus and Tom Ford cologne circulated through the atmosphere. VIXENS. The neon sign above the stage so boldly revealed what the clients were there to spend ‘hard earned’ money on. Some were fresh blood, possibly there to have a brief escape from their mundane lives. Or more frequently, engaged men grieving their final taste of true freedom, surrounded by friends that solemnly swore to never reveal the infidelities of the night. The most lucrative men, however, were few and far between. They would enter through the tall obsidian doors, eyes roaming through the crowd for one woman. Until then, they’d saunter to a concealed section towards the back of the club. Twenty dollar bills would fall to the floor, while two to three hand picked dancers kept the charitable donors entertained as they waited.

She took one last look over her body. Heart-shaped lips rubbed against each other, their deep red color contrasting against her golden brown skin. Her hands ran through wavy crimson extensions, making sure they were secured properly to her head. Swarovski crystals embellished black patent leather that barely covered the most intimate parts of her body. A deep sigh escaped her lips, while a guttural, nagging voice played in the back of her mind.

‘I will not tolerate a whore for hire as my daughter.’

‘You will not be a part of this family.’

She shook her head, gathering her thoughts as she walked up to the closed curtain. A millisecond later, the announcer’s gruff voice boomed into the microphone.

“Gentleman, I introduce you to our main event of the evening. La charmante et mystérieuse dame en Rouge!”

Applause erupted from the crowd as the main lights dimmed, a single spotlight highlighted where the large fabric started to divide. Slowed music with hints of echoes and reverb flooded the speakers. Whistles traveled randomly throughout the club as she made her way to the center of the stage, her hands delicately grabbing the silver pole. She walked languidly in a circle, eyes meeting familiar faces. Many of her high paying regulars were there. Their lustful eyes roamed the sparkling garment that adorned her. She relinquished control to the music that pulsated through her veins, her back pressing against the cold metal as she inched to the floor, legs spread and chest perched. Her routine was the same almost every night; The main stage dance, which differed slightly depending on the night, the walk through the crowd, and then the final walk back to the stage. She always managed to keep the same three marks: dance for a group near the stage, give a quick lap dance to one of her regulars near the middle, then tease one of the moguls at the section in the back, just to keep the boss happy and well paid.

Each move was executed flawlessly. Jaws fell to the floor, pockets emptied by the second. Her fingers caressed the shoulder of an eager gentleman who quickly began to tremble underneath her touch. A smirk spread across her face as she made her way to the back section, shoulders high while her heart raced in anticipation.

Inhale. Exhale. Fifteen thousand. Almost halfway there. Her chest tightened with every step, the goal within reach, but each bill felt heavier than the last. It wasn't just about the money. It was everything—her studio, her family, the fear that her soul might get lost in the atmosphere of Vixen’s before she could make it out. The internal encouragement barely soothed her nerves, while her heels clacked across the black floor to the relaxed tempo of the music.

Three unfamiliar figures lounged against the corner leather couch.

Two gazes lingered on her attire as she arrived in the middle of their section.

One clenched jaw almost went unnoticed.

An unwavering pair of dilated pupils stared at her as her hands traveled down the front of her body, slowly making their way to the floor. Her derrière emulated ocean waves while she held her ankles. Two of the men, twins from what she observed, were in fitted black crew necks, with black slacks to match. If it wasn’t for the stark difference in their hairstyles, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. The duo followed the club’s protocol, grinning while throwing a few bills and keeping their hands to themselves. Their companion, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. His hair was slicked back into a neat bun, all 42 muscles in his face were relaxed, perfectly unreadable. His hands clasped together, thumb running over the 24 karat gold band that wrapped around his index finger, posture still somewhat upright.

It threw her off, to say the least.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, shifting her attention to the stoic man. Her stomach knotted as she met his gaze. There was something about him—an authority, a quiet confidence that clashed violently with the sleaze surrounding him. It wasn’t just his size or his looks; it was the intensity behind his stillness, as if he could see right through her, past the dance, past the act. She walked around the small table in the middle of the section to stand directly in front of him. His eyes never left hers. Not when her palms pressed against his shoulders, cleavage spilling over the shiny black leather as she straddled his muscular thighs. Not when she slid a perfectly manicured finger underneath the thin straps on her shoulder, causing it to cascade down her arms. His composed expression did cease to exist, however, when the garment almost completely revealed her breasts. Large tawny hands flew to her chest, unintentionally cupping the soft mounds as he held the fabric against her.

“Get up.” His deep voice commanded firmly, carrying loud enough for the tables nearest to them to hear.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she blinked, body frozen in place, completely taken aback. Her eyes scanned the crowd for security. The four men, gargantuan in their own right, didn’t dare move from their positions against the wall. ‘No touching the dancers.’ The sign posted near the entrance was as clear as day. It was then she became acutely aware of her audience’s eyes still on her. The heart that raced in anticipation only a few minutes earlier now pounded in embarrassment. Small trembling hands pushed the stranger’s rather large ones away from her, pulling the bustier to its correct position. Her eyes met his again. Stunned. She swung her legs over his, quickly removing herself from his lap, hoping their small scene wasn’t too noticeable. As she turned to leave, a tight grip wrapped around her wrist. A thick wad of hundred dollar bills, folded neatly in a blue rubber band, was placed in her hand. She threw a hardened glare the man’s way as she left their section, trying to disregard the flames that blazed throughout her body.

Though she did her best to perform the remainder of her set unfazed, the crowd’s energy was drastically different than before. Multiple stares alternated between her place on the broad stage and the dim area where she once was. A few clients left before she finished. The other dancers whispered amongst themselves while she briskly walked backstage towards the locker room, barely making it through the door before a forceful yank pulled her back.

“What the hell was that?” A hoarse voice breathed down her neck, the acrid stench of cigarette smoke permeated her nostrils. She turned her face up in disgust before snatching her arm away from the gaunt man.

“Oh I’m sorry Vince, did my dance mess up your deal? ” She huffed sarcastically, taking a few steps to create some distance between them, leaning against the blotchy wall in the narrow hallway.

“That was hardly a dance.” His chapped lips formed into a scowl.

Her shoulders shrugged carelessly. “No one told you to watch me like a hawk.” She bickered. “Besides, your sugar daddy told me to get off of him. Wasn’t my fault.” Another small knot formed in her stomach as the stranger’s smooth voice replayed in her head. His firm touch still lingered on her skin. “How important is this one, anyway?” She inquired before thinking. Vince never shared too much about his investors, all she knew was that a few of them would randomly show up at the club during the week. Vince would call herself and about four of the best dancers into his office to let them know that major clients were there, and that they needed to give them their utmost attention. Whatever they said, went, with no questions asked.

“His name is Roman Reigns. Just know that he could pay us very well.” Vince curtly answered, sparing whatever details about his arrangement with the extremely reticent man. She mindlessly toyed with the stack of money in her hand while Vince’s nonsense about the ‘importance of the elite clientele’ went in one ear and out the other. Wasting the little breath that he truly needed to save.

Long, grimy fingers snatched the roll of bills from her grasp. “Since you blatantly ruined what would’ve been the biggest investment for the club this year, I’ll take this for my troubles.” A smug smile spread across his face, and before she could protest, Vince’s hunched back turned towards her. Leaving her beyond infuriated and at least a thousand dollars short.

The longer Mr. Reigns and company resided in the back of the club, the more spectators decided to end their festivities early. None of her regulars requested their usual private dances, and almost all of her earnings came from hammered guests who’d try disputing their drunken splurges with their bank first thing in the morning. She did her best to secure new clients and avoid the trio for the remainder of the night, to both of which she had no avail. After admitting defeat to regaining the money Vince graciously took from her, she took her final trip of the night to the locker room. It was almost empty, most of the other girls left once they got done performing. The highlight of the job, or the club really, was that no one’s shift needed to be longer than a few hours. Especially if they were highly esteemed. Fortunately, she was. Unfortunately, it had seemed some of her rapport was ruined due to her encounter with Roman.

Misplaced lipsticks and bobby pins were scattered everywhere while she sat at the extended vanity. She stuffed the gray duffle bag with drugstore makeup, heels, and her jewelry that she began to take off until the repulsive smell of nicotine surrounded her again. The sound of a flicked lighter pierced her ears, a small, soft yellow glow appeared in the reflection of the mirror.

“What now?”

“Go put your heels back on. You got a private dance in ten.”

Her body swiveled in the metal chair, confusion etched on her face. “All of my regulars left.”

Vince’s pull from the cigarette was unnecessarily drawn out. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth where he exhaled the virulent smoke.

“Roman would like to see you. Alone.”

————

It was supposed to be like every other night.

Go to the club. Get on stage. Get the money. Go home.

How she ended up in a completely new outfit, on the way to perform for the same man who ruined her entire routine earlier, was beyond her. After Vince barged in the locker room informing her of the last minute encore, he advised her to change and reminded her to do whatever Roman wished. The last thing she wanted to do was possibly ruin his deal again and lose more money, so she reluctantly obliged. Her attire this time was much simpler. No crystals or embellishments, or anything to bring any more attention to herself. ‘Ironic.’ She thought. Chills crept up her spine as she walked closer towards the private suites. When she tried to do her job, he wouldn’t let her. ‘So why the hell does he want to see me now?’ Her mind scanned over an imaginary list that yielded no answer.

Two knocks.

She exhaled a shaky breath. Then she entered.

He was already seated on the red channeled loveseat, a glass of scotch, neat, sat on the small table beside him. And like their first encounter earlier, his eyes latched onto hers. The music, reminiscent of a classic Janet Jackson song played through the overhead speaker. She stood still for a moment, afraid to make another wrong move. Terrified, to risk the job that allowed her to achieve her dream. An internal ‘pull yourself together’ spoke softly, before she decided to proceed with her routine.

She took a few slow steps forward, easily finding a pace to complement the music. Her petite hands caressed every curve of her body as she walked, with slim fingers that glided down the valley between her breasts and around to her wide hips. It was then Roman’s eyes followed the trail her fingers left. He sat up and leaned slightly leaned forward, his elbows rested on his thighs as she inched closer to him. Her short path from the door ended right in front of him, and his brown eyes worked their way up her body before meeting hers again. He reclined back into the couch, legs spread wide. A wordless gesture inviting her to stand between them that she hesitantly accepted. Her body continued to flow with the music without touching him- given his abrupt reaction from earlier.

She took the liberty to disrupt the silence between them.

“So, what brings you here tonight?”

“Small talk?” His voice was quiet, playing smoothly in her ear, but the tension in it was hard to miss. “This place isn’t for that.” He paused, just long enough for her to see something flicker in his eyes—regret, hesitation, something that didn’t quite match the ruthless image he was trying to project.

Her involuntary grimace from his harshness caused him to tense.

“Needed the distraction.” He offered a short answer.

She nodded silently in response. Her eyes lowered, avoiding his prolonged gaze.

He watched as she continued to maneuver effortlessly, her body perfectly aligned, head held high. Her arms extended gracefully outward, fingers delicately splayed on the back of the couch as she circled him. He felt a rush of adrenaline and a heightened awareness of his own senses-some which he hadn’t felt in years. Each of her movements flowed seamlessly into the next, like a river meandering through a serene landscape. The rapid beat of his heart betrayed his usual unmoved demeanor, struck by her grace and skill. She was mesmerizing, and he found himself admiring her physical prowess and the confidence she exuded, as if she was absorbing the music into her very being.

Her legs carried her around the room with purpose, each step, each turn taking her to a new part of the space. She sunk to the floor, her legs extended in a perfect split once she resumed her place in front of him. After ascending from the floor into a poised stance, she allowed herself to fully take him in; staring at his darkened eyes, trailing over his full lips down to his thick beard. Her teeth captured her bottom lip as her eyes moved to his broad shoulders and muscular arms that barely fit in the black long sleeved shirt. Her proximity and the scent of her perfume almost completely overwhelmed him.

Roman picked up the chilled glass, raising it to his lips and taking a slow sip, seeking refuge from the palpable tension between them before meeting her gaze again.

“How badly do you need this job?”

Her head jerked slightly before tilting to one side, brows knitting together and lips turning downward. “What the fuck is your problem?” She was absolutely over it. Vince and every single one of his arrogant, entitled clients could go to the trenches of hell for all she cared. As much as she loved the fast money, she wouldn’t continue to tolerate the disrespect.

“You seem to think you own this place,” her voice stayed calm, but her eyes flashed with anger. “And maybe you will. But don’t act like you own me.”

A scoff escaped Roman’s full lips and his brows raised.

“You should be thanking me for the payday. I know your other clients are only giving you spare change.”

“What payday? You haven’t dropped a dime since you’ve been in here.” She argued.

“The money I put in your hand.” He stated matter-of-factly. “That definitely wasn’t for the show you put on earlier. If that’s what you want to call it.”

It took everything in her not to smack the smug look off of his handsome face. “The money that Vince took due to the show that you ruined, mind you.” Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head, her legs carrying her away from him. “Who even comes to a strip club if they don’t want to be touched.” Her big eyes bore through his as she stood next to the door.

Roman rose from his position on the couch. His heavy feet stormed over to her and he looked down as his statuesque form towered over her.

“Vince did what?”

Her eyes widened as she mentally slapped herself for letting her anger get the best of her. As much as she couldn’t stand the man, the last thing she wanted to do was jeopardize Vixens, especially for the other women. She shook her head, grabbing the door handle. “Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Here.” He reached out to grab her wrist again to stop her from leaving, and she felt the, presently unwanted, warmth engulf her body. Roman reached in his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

Incautiously, she reached out to stop him, her palm brushing the top of his hand. She retracted it almost immediately after noticing his nostrils flare.

“Don’t tell Vince I gave this back to you.” He commanded, pushing past her and walking out of the suite.

Her pupils followed him as he left, eyes wide, and unblinking as she processed his words. What was he doing? First, he humiliated her, and now this? Her fingers tightened around the cash while her red lips formed a perfect 'O', looking down at the even thicker bundle of money he placed in her hand.

————

‘Vince has lost his mind.’ Roman shot a text to the twins, informing them of his location before he stormed into Vince’s office, catching the son of a bitch with his legs propped on his desk and counting the money that he more than likely shorted from his dancers.

The slimeball shot up from his seat, fumbling to put up the loose bills.

“Mr. Reigns-” He clapped nervously. “Please come in, have a seat.”

“I’ll stand.” Roman snipped.

Vince’s jaw clenched. “How was the rest of your evening? I take it that my Vixens treated you and your companions well?” His eyes looked past Roman’s shoulders to Jimmy and Jey as they stood in the doorway.

His Vixens. Roman restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the dense man. “More or less.” He decided to keep the conversation with Rogue to himself. "Are you ready to talk business?” A single brow raised as he glared at him.

An eager nod came from Vince. He walked to the door, shutting and locking it after the twins fully entered the office.

“Although I have a few propositions to make-” Roman’s gaze lingered on the pile of bills Vince had tried to hide. He didn’t care about the money, but the way Vince treated his girls, especially Rogue—it mattered now. “We have a deal,” Roman said, his voice hard as stone, but his mind was already elsewhere. This was only the beginning.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x black!oc

45 notes · View notes