synopsis: “When all is jaded and nothing satisfies me. Tried to replace it. Tried to make sacrifices. Time was wasted. Times you let me fantasize. All for entertainment.”
pairing: slight roman reigns x fem!reader/Jey Uso x fem!reader.
disclaimer: was previously meant to be a one shot but will now be a series, because i was too eager to get this first part out!!🥴
Pensacola FL. 10:42 pm.
The house was currently flooded with a dreadful silence, thus leaving time for her to be alone with her thoughts. Usually she liked silence but this time it was different. Things were heavier, usually the home would be filled with a loud stir of giggles, yells, or even on moans, on a good day. Though things had been different lately, a house that was once filled with mostly fucking and figting was now filled with pain and exhaustion.
She longed to somewhat interact with Joe even if it was through the constant cycle of arguements and makeup sex. The silence was cut short by Joe’s shouts which only increased her aggravation and exhaustion. They had barely spoken all day besides at work and now instead of spending time with her, he was on the game with Jon and Sefa. She tied her robe around her bare body and slid out onto the balcony, blunt and lighter in hand. As she sparked up the blunt, her mind began to wander off to her most hidden desire and it was as if the same thing was on his mind.
Joshua.
Yoo.
read 10:57 pm.
you woke uce??
Read 10:58pm.
if you gon ignore me uce atleast turn the fucking read receipts off.
Read 10:59pm.
my bad, wasnt tryin to.
Read 11:01pm.
it’s all good mama. Just wanted to make sure you was good. u seemed a lil off today
Read 11:02pm.
im good bby. just bs wit joe.
Read 11:03pm.
talk to me mama.
Read 11:04pm.
shit not the same nm.
I wish it could be just us, josh.
Read 11:05pm.
it could be just us baby.
You just letting shit get worse stead of admitting what when been doin
or even just breaking up with him.
Read 11:06pm.
its not that mf easy. 🤦♀️
Read 11:07pm.
eventually you gon have to say sum uce.
I dont wanna keep waiting around for yo entertainment
I want shit between us to be real mama.
Read 11:08pm.
I’ll figure it out mylove.
please give me time.
wya rn???
Read 11:09pm.
im at the crib.
why? u tryn pull up mama?
Read 11:10pm
yea give me a lil bit.
gotta get ready.
and figure out sum shit to tell Joe.
Read 11:10pm.
you sick as hell you know dat right??😭
Read 11:11pm.
whateverrr bro.😒
Read 11:12pm.
She ashed out her blunt and smoothly slid the balcony door open to enter the house. As she entered the bedroom she jumped, getting startled by the sight of Joe sitting on the bed. “oh my GOD! what the the fuck?!” He chuckled at her fear but slowly stopped when he took in her appearance. “Damn look at you mama, cmere let me see what you got under that robe beautiful girl.” She reluctantly trailed over to Joe, suddenly feeling guilty for wanting dick when Josh was waiting on her to pull up on him.
She climbed on top of the bed and pulled her leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands roughly gripped her waist as they traveled up her supple body. His hands swiftly reached the knot of the robe and untied it. It smoothly pooled down on the bed behind her as his hands began exploring again. She leaned into his touched, longing and aching for more of his attention. “P-please.. touch me more” she exhaled. “Tell me what you want mama..” He said lowly as he dipped his head into her neck as his tongue traced her throat. “I-I dont know what I want. I just need you, pleasee.” She begged as he continued to nip and suck. “Okay mama, calm down I gotchu.” His hands gently cupped her soft plump breast as he trailed his tongue around her risen nipples. “fuckkk Joe.” she breathed out, dipping her head back and arching her back in pure ecstasy. She felt embarrassed that all he had to do was give her the simplest of touches and she could fall apart. She eventually grew tired of Joe teasing her and slapped her hands down on his thighs eagerly rushing to get his pants down. Usually she could handle foreplay but things were different now. She was tired of waiting for affection from him and it was now her time to start going after things for her self. She sloppily fiddled with the knot on his sweatpants and struggled a bit due to her long nails. Joe laid back lazily, clearly enjoying her struggle. She finally regains simple motor functions and manages to get his sweatpants down, looking into his eyes as she lined his thick veiny cock up to her entrance which was currently sopping wet. He picks he up and slams her down on his cock as a guttural moan ripped through her throat. “Shitttttt” She bounced up and down as he thrusted up, their movements somewhat paralleling each other. The both of them reaching a point of euphoria. “cmon mama give it to me. Fuckkk.” He groaned loudly. “Tell me whose dick this is baby.” He encouraged. “It’s minee, its my dickk.” she moaned out almost incoherently. “you damn right mama.” The thrust began to get more sloppy and less words were being exchanged due to the pure state of ecstasy both of them were entranced in. “Shit im closee.” She whispered in his ear. “You gon let me fill this pussy up mama?” She frantically nodded her head unable to get words out. Her hips tensed up and her eyes snapped shut as warm liquid gushed from her sacred hole. Joe flipped them around so he could thrust out the rest of his orgasm. He rolled from off top of her as he looked her in the eyes, pulling her into a warm, deep kiss. “You know I love you right?” She reluctantly nodded as she leaned in to peck his lips before rolling off the bed, robe in hand. “Where you going?” He asked, thrown off by her sudden exit from the bed. “I gotta go shower, Bianca wants to hit the gym so we can get in some more training before wrestlemania.” She said uneasily, feeling as If he would catch onto her lie if she made the wrong move. “Okay, i’m going to bed. Stay safe, I love you.” She blew him a kiss as he turned over to lay on his side in attempts to catch some sleep. She quickly showered, peed, and got in her car to make her way to Josh’s house. Guilt swirling in her stomach as she pulled off from her and Joe’s home.
( a/n: eventually im gonna get more comfortable with smut and i honestly reached flowstate a lil bit while writing this. Do yall feel like reader is in the wrong for wanting to have her cake and eat it too??👀 I meannn a girl has priorities🤷🏽♀️🤷🏽♀️🤷🏽♀️ Comment below to join taglist!!! Chapter 2 is currently in the works! Hope you enjoyed lovelies!🩷)
summary based on A Night Off by Drake and Lloyd. he took the night off for you… atleast, that’s what you believe.
- 18+ pairing: jey uso x female!reader
warning unprotected p in v, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie, use of plan b, cunilingus, multiple orgasms, tiny tiny bit of spit kink, daddy kink, teensy bit of plot
You swished the last swallow of wine around in your glass, watching as the light above the kitchen island catching the deep red as it moved. Your phone dinged against the counter, pulling you from your daze, and you glanced down at the notification lighting up the screen to see your man’s name.
Your eyes flicked down lazily at first, expecting another teasing video, but it was a message instead.
Your eyes widened a bit before you squeezed your legs together, thinking about all those lonely nights without him. The ache of it, the waiting, the way he’s going to make it up to you. He’s gone all of the time, sending countless videos and audios of him fucking his fist, desperate for you…you’d moan out in sync with his own strained sounds, listening to him confess how badly he needed you, how he couldn’t wait to get home and finally have you under him again.
Now you lay here, following his orders. no lights, no clothes, only in your heels. He’d taken the night off just for you, for both of you. You gleamed as you slipped on those heels that he likes, core throbbing at the thought of him finally walking through that door.
He’s waited weeks to be with you and he means it… every text from him carried that same anticipation. “Babygirl, I finally got a night to myself.” then another not long after, “I been waiting all week for this.” Tonight was all about you, he’s gonna make up for all of those lonely nights and there will be no distractions.
“Damn,” he cursed under his breath, shutting the door behind him. “Look at you.”
His eyes found you immediately in the darkened room, laid out just how he told you to be. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, seconds later his large hands began sliding slowly up your legs, “I’m hungry, babygirl.”
And Jey ate like a ravenous man, jaw flexing as the room filled with your increasingly desperate whimpers; little broken ah-ah-ah’s slipping free every time he glanced up at you as he licked and slurped on your clit. The look in his eyes only made it worse, like he had all the time in the world and intended to spend every second proving it.
As his soft mouth engulfs your clit, he groans at your taste. “O-oh…yes, Jey,” you gasped, tilting your head back as both of your hands tangled in his hair. Your legs quivered on either side of his head, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
Jey gripped your hips as he lost himself between your legs, completely consumed by you. The low groans and moans he made only made you grow weaker beneath his touch, your slick coated his nose, lips, and his beard. Every time your hips lifted from the bed, his hands tightened, silently urging you to stay right there with him as he continued to make nasty slurping sounds.
He was really good at giving head, it’s been so long since he’s made you come apart on his tongue. Two fingers slid into you with ease, hitting that soft wall of flesh that made you start to shiver. Just as your breath hitched, “I—babe, I’m close—”
Jey pinned your trembling thighs down, you watched the slick strings of arousal stretched between your folds and his lips as he looks up at you, “Nah, we ain’t doing that running shit.” His thumb swept across your thigh, and for a split second the teasing disappeared from his expression.
You pleaded as he resumed lapping at your pussy, along with the frantic come hither motion of his fingers. He desperately wanted to draw out this moment. The way he held you down and worked incessantly towards your climax made it feel like he’d missed you just as badly as you’d missed him. Every sound that left your lips felt like a reward, something he’d been starving for. He felt your body begin to tremble, and he didn’t deny you. Hell, he loved how your thighs clamped tight around his head as you rode the waves, juices dripping down his jaw. But he didn’t stop. He kept licking through it, unwilling to let the moment end, savoring every drop of cum he could steal with you. Even when you whimpered from overstimulation, he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away.
He looked up at you, “D’you wanna taste yourself, mama?”
You nodded, still wearing that blissed out expression as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows.
You expected a sweet, passionate kiss. Instead, he tilted your chin up, and a dribble of spit landed on your tongue before he leaned in, the kiss came immediately after.
His hand slid up the side of your neck, thumb brushing beneath your jaw as his mouth moved against yours. As he kissed you deeper, he pulled you closer until you were practically climbing into his lap. You could feel the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth when you chased him every time he pulled back for air.
When he finally pulled away, he turned toward the dresser to grab his phone, you watched his top lip lift slightly in a scowl as he glanced at the screen. Then he shut it down and tossed it back onto the dresser, turning his attention back to you.
“I wanna focus on you, baby. I love you,”
You smiled.
“I love you t—”
“I want you on top.”
That’s precisely how you found yourself criss-cross applesauce, chest-to-chest, enthusiastically riding your man in the lotus position. Jey’s hands roughly digging into the soft flesh of your waist and aiding your movements on top of his larger frame, he placed unhurried kisses trailing from your neck down to your chest, lingering as though he’d missed the taste of your skin.
It’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and having him so close again has you on edge already. You bit your lip as your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers clutching at the mattress for balance as your back arched. Luckily, he was holding you, grounding you as the overwhelming pleasure of it all became almost too much. You grew embarrassed at how sensitive you were, biting down harder on your lip to muffle your sounds.
“C’mere baby, gimme a kiss.” He demands, biting back an indignant growl, bracing his arms against you as your mouths meet. Neither of you can seem to catch your breath, too caught up in each other as he helps you slide back and forth in small motions. His abdominal muscles grind against your clit while you move, and fuck. You feel everything in you spiraling, pleading to be released.
You suck on his tongue to prevent yourself from crying out. When you finally pull away, a broken whine escapes you. “Oh my… oh it’s so fucking, f-fuckkkk.”
You bite your lip, tilting your head back as you move against him. Every motion feels effortless, it glides with so much ease across your lower lips, he hits your spot so perfectly with each rut of your hips. His eyes never leave you, almost as if he’s watching every feeling pass over your face. Like he’s memorizing you.
You’ve craved that unreleasable feeling that only ever came with him. Your bodies fit together perfectly and oh, how’ve you missed it. You’ve missed it so much that you were literally bouncing on his dick, rambling, “…Missed you, daddy! mmmm…missed youuu-ah!”
“Mhm, say it again.”
His groans deepen, his hand sliding down to your ass as his eyes stay fixed on you taking him, riding him so damn good. “You miss, what?”
He wraps his arms around your waist and pounds up into your body as you writhe against him, rolling your hips down on him. “I miss you, daddy!”
As your bodies moved against each other, you felt the impending coil of your orgasm preparing to snap, your fingernails digging into the sheets as you arched your back, cumming again as your mind filled with him. Nothing but him. The sound of his breathing, the warmth of his skin, the way he’s holding you. Most importantly, the way he’s helping you. Watching you with blown pupils as he guided you through your peak, until he suddenly scooped you up. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders automatically, clinging to him as he bounced you.
“Daddy misses you too, baby. He missed you so bad,” His raspy voice cuts through your loud panting as you rock against him, chasing every little bit of pleasure. Your brows pinching together as he kept going. Then, abruptly, his hands tightened around your hips, holding you still as he filled you up.
After moments of lying in blissful silence, you felt him tap your shoulder with a glass of water and a tiny pill balanced against his palm.
Your laugh came out breathless as you turned your head toward him. He watched you carefully, waiting until you swallowed the pill before reaching over to kiss you.
But that was Jey, to you, a man of his word.
So when he called once he was back on the road, you knew he meant every word that came out of his mouth. You listened to him talk for hours some nights, sitting with the phone pressed between your shoulder and your ear, listening to the low rasp of his voice as your hand trailed down to your core. You’d listen as he’d tell you how much he misses you.
“You don’t understand, baby… I can’t get that night out my head,” he says quietly. “Been thinking bout you all day. All week, really.”
You smile into the phone as he exhales on the other end. “I need you,” he adds. “I swear I do.”
And you believe every single word he says.
But on Jey’s end of the call, a woman rested beside him in the hotel bed. He sat up towards the edge as she hovered over his shoulder, her fingers tracing across the tattoos on his chest while he spoke.
“Miss you so damn much, baby.”
The woman leaned forward, her lips brushing against his jaw as her hand wandered lower.
“Miss you too,” you whispered.
Now she was on her knees between his legs. His fingers tightened in her hair as you laughed softly on the other end, completely unaware of the groan he swallowed back and the uneven breaths slipping between his words. To you, it sounded like exhaustion…just another long night on the road.
“You promise that you’re gonna take another night off, babe?”
“I’m gonna keep my word,” he tells you. “I always do.”
“I love you,” you said, smiling into the phone as your eyes drifted shut.
On the other end of the line, as he gently ran his fingers through her hair, she smiled too.
ꨄ︎ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap (21 & 40) smut. infidelity. messy. honestly, what else is new?
ꨄ︎ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k
ꨄ︎ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i really wish i had an explanation as to how we got here…ya’ll know i love the infidelity trope, idk. by the way, i do not condone any of this behavior (i’m lying) also, this is a oneshot, nothing more, lol.
Layla sat up in bed carefully sliding on her laced thong as she watched the man who just fucked her into oblivion study the nail markings on his back in the mirror. She rolled her eyes, small smile forming as her gaze met his, "Well it's kind of hard to hold back when you fuck me the way you do…"
That handsome smug smirk she's convinced she'll never get used to, tugged the corner of his lips as he walked towards her, his callused thumb gently tracing over her bottom lip as his voice lowered, "Looks like we both can't help it…"
The way his rippling muscles were on full display as his dark gray sweats hung low around his waist, made the aching spot in between her legs pulse.
Layla had to admit there were times when she'd forget that the man she spent many sinful nights entangled with, wasn't just any man…that the Roman Reigns was a public figure who had an image to maintain.
Not to mention, a family and wife at home.
The same wife who she had seen wrapped around his arm the night she had decided to treat herself to an upscale dinner in Miami for her twenty-first birthday.
A solo trip that somehow took a turn she never could've expected…
She remembers the way his table was at a distance, secluded, but still close enough to where she was able to observe. It didn't take much for her to notice the way he was practically eye-fucking her from the moment she walked in.
Roman's demeanor was alluring without him even trying.
It was impossible not to study the way his huge biceps battled against the fabric of his black shirt as he reclined back. Or how his black, diamond chain glimmered from a distance as their eyes constantly met.
Its when his wife went to the bathroom and she was ready to pay her tab that the waiter informed her it had already been taken care of. And not even a minute later, she was handed a small paper with a phone number written on it leaving her even more puzzled.
The was, until she saw Roman's subtle smile from across the room…his look alone giving her all the answers she needed.
It seemed the rest was history.
Roman was unlike any other man Layla had ever met. He was patient and attentive, the first man to actually have more interest in getting to know her rather than just wanting her for her body. The moment she told him she was a virgin and wasn't ready for anything, she thought she'd never hear from him again.
But the truth was, she couldn't of have been more wrong.
A trip that was only supposed to last two weeks somehow extended to over a three month long stay.
Any free time he had, was spent with her. Countless nights between the two were filled with conversations for hours on end, and it seemed the longer they spent getting to know each other, the more Layla could feel his layers slowly peel back.
Learning that Roman's marriage to his wife wasn't exactly what he portrayed to the world, had to be one of the most intriguing parts.
Laura, his wife of ten plus years who had met him in college and has clung to him since. A woman who was fully aware of her husbands promiscuous lifestyle from the moment they started dating but chose to turn a blind eye in order to secure herself a wealthy and promising future.
According to Roman, while Laura loved him and their eight-year-old twin daughters they shared, the one thing she seemed to love more was having his last name and the benefits that came with it. There was a disconnect between them that only seemed to grow over the years. One that they were supposed to be working through…
But given the fact that he was spending as much time away from home as possible any moment he wasn't with his kids, told her everything she needed to know.
The situation as a whole was such a mind-fuck to Layla. It was hard to even grasp, let alone, wrap her head around. But as messy and conflicting as it was, it wasn't enough to scare her away.
Not when he was so addicting.
The desire to have Roman in a way she'd never experienced with another man, built with every moment she was within his presence. Passionate kisses where he'd eventually have to pull away due to the hardening in his pants, no longer existing since the night she pulled him back towards her and told him she was ready.
Losing her virginity to a married man was never the plan.
But as wrong as it was, the truth is, Layla wouldn't change it for a fucking thing.
Horror stories from her friends recounting how their first experience went, couldn't have been further from her own. Because unlike most men, Roman was gentle and reassuring through every step. The way he looked at her as if she was the only woman to exist, is a mental image she'll never forget for as long as she lives.
His gentleness and passion outweighed any trace of the initial sting and discomfort Layla felt as she took him. The sweet words Roman muttered as his eyes remained glued to hers, made her stomach flutter. One of the most meaningful memories being how he took care of her after.
The way he carried her exhausted body over to the warm bath he made her, proceeding to go back to the room to change the sheets as she got settled. How he then joined her in the tub, sitting behind her as pulled her towards him reclining her body against his chest. Those full, soft lips of his peppering kisses against her temple as his thumb traced circles against her thigh.
It was almost as if there was a softness to him that he only reserved for her.
But there was also a dominant and protective side to him. One that at times could come off as possessive…
A possessiveness that in her opinion, only made him that much more fucking attractive.
Because the truth was, there was no safer feeling than being with a protective man who took care of her in every way he could. A man who brought her a comfort and sense of peace that she couldn't even begin to describe. Who took care of her each and every need, eventually moving her down to Miami because they both seemed to be fucking miserable without each other.
And now almost a year later, here they were.
Layla smiled, now sitting at the edge of the bed as Roman leaned down to kiss her forehead before reaching for his discarded shirt on the ground, "You should start packing a bag, baby…"
At that, her brows furrowed, confusion setting in as her eyes trailed over him, "Why?"
"Because you're coming to Italy with me."
It was always such a surreal experience seeing Roman in his element.
The pure adrenaline Layla felt the moment his entrance music hit, sent shivers down her spine. The sight of his loose hair, and oiled body alone, was enough to make her pussy flutter in anticipation for what was to come later.
It was as if the atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped out. Loud chants cheering his name erupted throughout the arena as Roman soaked it all in. The way his eyes subtly scanned for her in the crowd before his match started, brought a smile to her face.
It seemed, from the moment the bell rung, everything that transpired after, felt like a blur. Because the truth was, all Layla could focus on, was him. It was one thing to see Roman's matches on screen, but a completely different feel seeing him perform in the flesh. He was so precise and technical with every movement, there was such a dominant and resilient nature about him.
One that had her clenching her thighs together as she watched him secure his win.
Without a moment to waste, Layla quickly weaved through the crowd in an attempt to make it back to the suite as soon as possible. The hotel being relatively close to the arena, and Roman providing her with a personal driver, only made it that much easier of a task.
Roman's familiar cologne scent still lingered in the air as Layla stepped inside the suite. She hummed to herself, placing her phone down on the counter in the open lounge before walking into the main bedroom.
Her anticipation for Roman's arrival seemed to only grow as the minutes passed. Which is why she decided to put on the red lingerie set she had purchased specifically for this night. Not that it really mattered given the fact he'd more than likely end up ripping it off her in the matter of minutes.
His birthday not even a week prior, being proof of that.
A night Layla planned to prioritize him and focus solely on his pleasure, thrown right out the window the moment Roman decided to spend the entire night worshiping every inch of her instead.
The memory alone causing her cunt to throb with need.
To make matters worse, it seemed the longer she laid in bed scrolling through socials, the more videos of him would take over her feed.
God, she'd do anything to have him here already.
That handsome ass face of his being the same one she was riding just this morning as he groaned underneath her, made her bite down on her bottom lip as her head reclined against the pillow.
Layla's hand slowly trailed down the span of her stomach, eyes shutting the second her fingers teased the sensitive spot in between her legs. Her crotch-less panties granting her all the access she needed as she slowly parted her slick folds. Just the mental image of him was enough to allow her mind to imagine her filthiest desires.
She gasped the moment her middle finger swirled against her clit, thick thighs spreading further apart as her mouth parted. It was as if everything around her faded the more she focused on the thought of him.
Roman was the only man she'd ever been intimate with in any shape or form, he practically taught her everything she knew. He was the first man who she'd ever given head to, or received head from. Having her pussy devoured for the first time by such an experienced man, let alone "Roman Reigns" of all people, was a life altering experience to say the least.
Because when it came to any form of intimacy, Roman gave his all. Thorough and dedicated in each and every way. That big ass dick and talented mouth of his took more than enough care of her, and if Layla was being completely honest, she couldn't fathom sex being any better than what she's experienced and continues to experience with him.
"Shit," Layla's back arched off the bed the second her drenched fingers upped the pace, her eyes still clenched shut as as her soft whimpers echoed across the room. She could feel her impending orgasm on the horizon as she squirmed against the mattress.
"Always so impatient, pretty girl…"
Roman's deep voice startled Layla causing her eyes to shoot open as she looked over. It seemed she was so focused on the pleasure she was feeling that she hadn't even heard him enter the suite, let alone seen him leaning against the door frame watching her from across the room.
"Baby…"
Roman smiled as he closed the distance, his wet, loose hair and gold chain dangled over her as he leaned down for a kiss. That familiar rich, woodsy cologne scent invaded her senses as his lips moved against hers. The way he kissed her with fervor made her pussy flutter as she continued to rub her clit.
Layla could feel the bed sinking underneath Roman's weight as he sat next to her. Her gaze instantly gravitated towards his growing erection as he discarded his shirt and sweats. The look of pure hunger in his eyes matched exactly what she felt for him, which is why she quickly climbed over his lap straddling him. She gasped as he adjusted himself, the way he deliberately pressed his bulge against her dripping cunt, made her grin as she bit down on her bottom lip, "You're already this hard for me, daddy?"
Roman smirked, mouth hovering over the crook of her neck as his big calloused hands palmed her ass, "For you, always."
If she wasn't soaked before, she damn sure was now.
Layla cupped his handsome face, placing soft, delicate kisses against his jawline, observing the way his eyes shut as her teeth gently grazed his ear, soft voice muttering the same three words she told him the night she lost her virginity, "I need you."
Roman groaned into her as she rolled her hips against him. His big dick harder than ever as he jerked her body upwards giving him the room he needed to discard of his briefs and position himself, "Hold onto me, baby."
Layla's hands planted against his broad shoulders as Roman's thick mushroom tip teased her entrance, a small hiss leaving him the moment he lubricated his length with her wetness, "Fuck…"
They groaned in unison as she sunk down, slowly taking him inch by inch. "You're so damn b—big." It was one thing to accommodate to Roman's sheer length, but his girth alone was enough to make Layla moan, forehead resting against his as her nails instinctively sunk into him.
The way he always seemed to give her a moment to adjust was greatly appreciated, especially when his big ass dick filled her to the brim the way it did. Roman smiled as his grip around her hips grew firmer, "You take me so well, sweet girl."
Layla blushed, eyes on his as she slowly started to bounce against him. That sharp ass jaw of his immediately clenching as her pace gradually increased. Roman's fingers worked to undo her bra freeing her big breasts before gliding his tongue against her hardened nipples.
"Tight ass pussy was made for me and me only, baby." His big hand smacked the side of her ass as he started to meet her thrusts. The loud sounds of his heavy balls slamming against her squelching cunt filled the room, as did her moans. Roman's words only fueling her to give her all as she bounced against him. "No one else is ever gon' fucking touch you, you understand me?"
"Y—yes, baby."
"That's exactly what daddy likes to hear, beautiful." The look of satisfaction on his handsome face as he smiled made Layla's pussy clench around him, their conjoined sticky juices now coating their lower halves as his big dick continued to plunge into her.
"So fucking tight," Roman's big hands guided her up and down his cock as his lips that always felt so fucking magnetizing, pressed into hers for a steamy, sensual kiss. His eyes shut, tongue sloppily colliding with hers as she moaned into him. Soft whimpers escaped her the second his veiny dick started to nudge against her g-spot, further encouraging her to bounce on his dick with fervor. The sound of Romans low grunts made her swollen cunt pulse around him.
"Does my pussy feel better than hers, daddy?"
At that, Roman's eyes opened, his gaze instantly meeting hers as his tongue swiped against his bottom lip, "So much fucking better, baby." His big arm wrapped around her slick body alleviating the burning in her thighs as he took over. "Even when I'm with her, all I fucking see is you." Roman managed to deepen his reach, big dick pummeling into her as her soaked pussy clenched around him. Something about the way he was looking at her, felt different. Roman's honey-brown eyes bore into her as his pace momentarily faltered, "I love you, Layla."
Her eyes watered as she studied him, the pure bliss that was coursing through her body along with those three words he muttered, managed to send her over the edge. Layla cried out as her orgasm took over. The hold he had around her waist, growing firmer as he pulled her closer, kissing her temple.
"Love seeing your pretty ass face when you come for me." Roman's own pace slowly became more erratic as Layla's body jolted against him. He continued talking her through it as his own release was imminent. "Gon' always take care of you, baby… give you any and everything you fucking want."
Layla panted, heavy breathing on both ends as she still attempted to meet his thrusts ignoring the fact that she was practically seeing stars at this point. Her teeth teasingly pulled on his bottom lip as she smirked, "You wanna know what I want, baby?"
"Tell me…"
The pure intrigue and curiosity in his voice made Layla smile as her mouth hovered over the shell of his ear. Roman's grip around her tightening as her soft voice whispered the very thought she had been holding in for a while now, one that she no longer wanted to keep inside…
𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒𑁤 mari's wedding night is something she always dreamed about. dreamed and prayed would be something special. and sharing said wedding night with her best friend and now husband, joe, is nothing short of special personified. but turns out there's a few things she didn't know about her husband. or rather one specific thing. one big, specific thing.
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𑁤 18+. mdni. some sexy time. angst(?). fluff. but mostly usual mari being mari, and joe being joe who's just used to mari being mari.
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒𑁤 four thousand and some change (4k+)
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𑁤 joe anoa'i (roman reigns) x black!oc
𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𑁤 photos and roman gif from google, pinterest, and instagram. sza gif by @/totalsellout. neon divider by @/dividers-are-us. i saved the dividers for the photo set but now can't find where i got them from, so if you know, please let me know so i can credit properly!
𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𑁤 ❝let's get it on❞ by marvin gaye
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𑁤 this has been asked about a lot and in honor of big ears and my sister wife, @sayyestoheav3nn, birthday, i had to finally make it happen.
“Okay, well five minutes plus another five minutes then!”
Joe runs his hand over his face and blinks a couple times before reaching for his phone to scroll through Instagram for what must be the 8th time over the past forty-five minutes. The same amount of time his now wife has been holed up in that damn bathroom. He understands fully that this night means a lot to her, and it should. It’s her wedding night.
Their wedding night.
The first night they’ll spend together as husband and wife and consummate their marriage. His first time with her, and her first time, period. Outside of knowing Mariella, arguably, better than most, he knows for women in general that this milestone carries a lot of weight.
Rightfully so.
But the fact that it’s been almost an hour since he showered and exited the bathroom wearing only his boxers, Mariella rushing past him and locking the door so she could “get ready” and her still not being ready is reaching a point beyond understandable.
Shit, at this rate, it’s going to be time for them to check out.
He’s tried to keep himself busy outside of being on his phone, something that’s never really been his thing in the first place. Observed and studied every inch of the suite her parents paid for as one of their wedding “gifts.” Both he and Ri in agreement that when finances are better, they’ll go on an actual honeymoon.
God, he can’t wait to give her that.
Grabbed the remote and turned on the TV as he shifted up the bed, leaning into the headboard while he watched some random ass show that only held his attention for a few minutes. Hell, he even grabbed the bible out the nightstand drawer and flipped the pages to the verse the pastor cited shortly before officially announcing them man and wife.
“What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.”
But a good chunk of the time was eaten up by the uncharacteristic presence of anxiety. To say Joe is sexually experienced would be an understatement. He’s certainly gotten around in his almost thirty years on this earth. He knows exactly what he's doing between those sheets.
But never has he actually been intimate with someone that he loves. That he’s in love with. That he’s wanted nothing more than to make happy in all the ways possible.
This is Ri.
His Ri.
His wife.
Beyond that, there’s the pressure of being the one to take her virginity. If someone told him five years ago that that would be something she’d bestow and trust him—of all people—with, he’d never in a million years believe them.
Mariella has always been immensely special to him. His desire to protect and keep her safe from any and all bad things has been present since they were kids. Sparked largely by her naivety and innocence. And it’s only increased exponentially since they transitioned from friends to lovers and now husband and wife.
He knows better than anyone her trauma when it comes to relationships. Of spending so long wanting to find and be in love, to ever feel even ready or wanting enough to share such a sacred level of intimacy with another man.
Joe just can’t believe he ended up being that man.
His oath to love, protect, and take care of her will extend to the end of time—and then some.
And it all starts tonight.
“Okay!” Her shout from the other side of the door drags his attention away from lingering trepidation. “I—I think I’m ready.”
Joe clicks the lock button on this phone, waiting until it shuts off entirely, before he reaches and places it on the nightstand.
He won’t be needing it.
“Yeah?”
“Mmmhmm,” she sings, making him crack a small smile. She’s always so fucking theatrical.
He rolls his shoulder, reaching to let his hair down, already knowing that’s her preference despite also knowing he’ll need to tie it back before the night is over. Can’t have it in the way when he finally makes his way between her thick ass thighs to taste that pretty ass pussy. “So why don’t you bring your fine ass out then so I can see you?”
He plans to do a hell of a lot more than just see, but one thing at a time.
Joe snaps the hair tie against his wrist and rubs the tip of his nose with his thumb before a new sound fills the otherwise silent hotel room.
Music.
Because Ri wouldn’t be Ri if she didn’t have some sort of music to accompany what he knows for her is probably one of the biggest moments of her life thus far.
If not thee biggest.
A familiar, classic tune that makes all the sense, but it’s when the door is pushed open with loud, excessive force in conjunction with the three guitar notes at the beginning of Let’s Get In On by Marvin Gaye that makes his smile widen.
For several reasons.
Mari stands in the doorway, arms spread, palms planted on the jambs as she slowly twirls them thick ass hips of her. His eyes drink in the sight of her. The white, lace two piece lingerie set that leaves little to the imagination, her fat pussy lips almost swallowing the thin material to the point where it’s barely visible. He can only imagine what her ass looks like from the back. The top isn’t much better. Joe can make out the outline of her dark, pebbled nipples, her breast lifted and shoved together. Her stunning brown skin carries a glow that exceeds the usual as well as shimmer across her chest making her complexion glimmer and sparkle. Her hair that he knows she sacrificed a damn near whole day at the salon to get washed, blown out, and silk pressed for their wedding is down and brushes past her shoulders and chest.
But despite the salivating worthy sight of so much of that fine ass body on full display for him, it’s the smile on her bare face and the way she playfully twirls around that does something to him. Sometimes he envies her. How she goes through life with such unwavering optimism and light. There are no bad days with her.
Just happy days.
Some of his best.
He leans over, eyes darkening and voice lowering. “Come here.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, of course, taking her sweet time to continue to whine and tease him with the hypnotic view of her twirling hips. But the minute she’s close enough, he yanks her onto his lap. Joe’s eyes shut as he breathes in the scent of her. There’s no doubt in his mind that she tastes just as good as she always smells.
Mariella brings her hands to his shoulders and gestures down to her lingerie set. “You like it?”
“You know I do,” he answers. His hands smooth down her back, thumb fiddling with her bra strap as he kisses her shoulder. “It’s a shame I’m gonna end up ripping it off you in about five minutes.”
“Joseph Leati Anoa’i, you better not!” She gasps as he nestles his nose in the crook of her neck, eyes closing once more from the feel of her so close to him. Nothing is better than being with her. Nothing. “This is my wedding night lingerie. I won’t have you desecrate what will be a collectors item.”
“Fine. Whatever you want,” he agrees. He knows when to pick and choose his battles with her. Joe places another tender kiss to her jaw, his hands moving to her waist as he focuses on her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She whispers, batting her lashes, voice dipping suggestively. “Now, I believe it’s time for us to do the nasty.”
“Hmm.” He travels his gaze over her, hiking her up higher on his lap. “How nasty you trying to get, Mariella?”
She shakes her head, grasping at his jaw while he continues to roam every inch of her, as if trying to mark the territory he plans to explore fully and thoroughly throughout the night.
And for the rest of his life.
“It’s Ri.” She dips her head, ghosting her lips over his, her voice a soft, teasing whisper. “Mrs. Anoa’i, if you’re nasty.”
The speed in which he kisses her is inhuman. Joe fully recognizes that there’s very little easing into things. It's evident in the way he kisses her with hunger, desire, and desperation that’s grown with each passing day as their wedding date grew closer.
It took him a while to accept that he no longer saw his now wife as his adopted little sister. That she certainly wasn’t the little girl who always tagged along with him and BJ. That she was a grown woman. A grown woman with nice ass titties he’s currently palming in his big hands and a nice round ass he’s visualized more than once bouncing off his dick while he gives her backshots, her kinky coils fisted in his hand as he talks her through it.
Yes, finally freeing himself from unnecessary shackles of roles no longer relevant has definitely made this buildup something worth looking forward to. Mariella slowly grinding against him prompts him to growl against her mouth when he flips them so that she’s flat against the mattress, his big body hovering over hers.
And the sight is something to behold.
Never has he seen someone as beautiful as Mariella.
Their next kiss is slow, tender, her hands on his cheeks as her lips stretch into a bashful smile.
“No one has ever looked at my the way you do.”
Something thumps in his chest.
He lowers his head, forehead pressed against hers. “And no one else ever will.”
Joe has always been a man of his word, and regardless of it being traditional, pre-written vows cited in front of close friends and family, he meant every word.
Till death to them part.
“Baby,” she murmurs against his mouth after a few minutes of continued making out. That borderline unbearable discomfort from his growing erection further fueling his desire to make his way down her body and in between her soft thighs. Her fingers intertwined in the back of his head, gently caressing his scalp. “Move your leg.” She pouts as he kisses the corner of her soft ass lips. “It’s poking me.”
Joe stills for a moment, breaking their kiss to look down between their conjoined bodies.
He chuckles. Resumes kissing her and groping her breast, thumb playing with her nipple through the thin lace of her top. “That’s not my leg, baby.”
Mariella frowns into their kiss as he shifts his mouth to her cheek and jawline when she tilts her head down. “Well then what….” Joe is about to drag his mouth to her chest, salivating at the thought of freeing her breast from that pesky ass top when she gasps. “What the—” His efforts are completely stopped, however, when he feels her fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers. “Oh my God!”
Mariella’s hands lift to his chest as she pushes him off of her and quickly scampers to the edge of her bed, sitting on her knees. “Joe Bear!” He sits up on his elbows to see her eyes as wide as saucers. “Did you use the hotel soap? I told you it was bad for you! You should have listened to me because now you’re having an allergic reaction!”
Joe frowns and does his best to ignore the way his cock throbs at the sight of her titties dangerously close to spilling out her top. He was so close. “What?”
He sits up as she climbs off the bed and starts rushing over to the bathroom. “Come on. Throw something on. We’ve gotta go to the ER!” She stops, holding his pants and looking up with an expression of wonder. “I wonder if Patricia is working tonight.”
He closes his eyes. The way she’s on a first name basis with the fucking staff at the ER is both insane and yet makes all the sense in the world. If the hospital had a reward system, her ass would be a VIP member.
Lifelong.
“Put these on!” She shouts, tossing his dress pants at him as he sits up and hisses at the discomfort of his neglected erection. Mari comes to stand in front of him to grab his hand, “and don’t worry. I’ll hold your hand when they put the needle in your dick to make the swelling go down. I promise.”
It’s when she says that, however, that Joe just knows this is about to be a fucking mess.
Mariella frowns and looks at their still conjoined hands when she tries to turn away, but he tightens his grip, keeping her standing before him.
Her gaze on him reflects the sense of urgency present in her voice. “Joe Bear, you gotta hurry up. If we wait too long, they might have to amputate it!”
“Ri.” This damn girl and her fucking over the top, irrational ass beliefs. “We don’t need to go to the ER.”
Her eyes widen as she yanks her hand away. “What do you mean we don’t have to go? Joe, you’re having an allergi—”
“Mariella,” he cuts through, already knowing that his rare use of her full name will shut her up. For now, at least. “I’m not having an allergic reaction. It’s just an erection.”
She blinks twice, sticking her neck out just enough to accompany the way she nods to herself. Or him. One can never really tell with her. “An engorged erection because of the allergic reaction.”
“For fuck’s sake,” he curses. “Ri. This is just me. I don’t know what the fuck to tell you.”
“Language,” she chides. He rolls his eyes as she leans back and eyes him skeptically. “What do you mean it’s just you?”
“I mean, it’s just me,” he repeats. Joe runs his hand through his hair. “I’ve got a big dick. I don’t know what else to tell—”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupts. He watches the way she shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at him like he suddenly just grew another head. Granted, in her eyes, maybe he did. “What do you mean that’s just you?” Opening his mouth is a waste of time as she points to his lap, dick still just as hard as it was five minutes ago. Just as painful, too. “You mean to tell me that’s normal for you?”
He looks from side to side, answering like it’s the simplest fucking thing in the world. “Yes.”
She must stare at him for a good thirty seconds before moving closer to him once more, fingers reaching for the waistband of his boxers. Joe shakes his head as she almost cautiously angles her head just enough so she can catch a peek. And the minute she does, the loudest gap emits from her mouth as she jumps back like she’s just been burnt.
“What the hell is that, Joe?” If her eyes were wide before, they’re damn near about to explore out of her head now, as she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Why is your penis so big?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time tonight. And here it goes.
She’s pacing across the floor in front of him, talking to either himself, herself, or maybe both.
“Dicks are not supposed to look like that, okay?” He leans back on his palms as she turns to direct her next statement directly to him, her voice jumping an octave or two, as it normally does when she spirals like this. “They only look like that in porn, and even then it’s probably prosthetics and photoshop!”
He frowns. “How do you photoshop a video?”
Naturally, she ignores his question and instead issues her own ridiculous ass question. “Are you absolutely sure that’s normal? Like maybe you need to see a specialist!”
“Pretty sure I don’t.”
An athlete all of his life, Joe has had his fair share of doctor’s appointments, check-ups, physicals, and everything under the sun. If no medical professional has ever said anything to him, he’s pretty sure that he’s fine, and Ri is just being…..Ri.
She gasps, looking away as if breaking the fourth wall. “We’re going to have to have a sexless marriage.”
“Ri—”
“We’ll have to adopt an adorable little baby who has a complexion closer to mine and ears as big as yours to make sure no one ever suspects the truth.” Another loud, sharp gasp makes him cut his eyes to the ceiling as hers land on him. “We’ll have to get a surrogate.”
“Ri, you’re acting ridiculous right now.”
“You know what’s ridiculous?” She marches up to him, angrily gesturing to his crotch. “You thinking you’re putting that—that thing anywhere near me let alone in me!”
He sits up and hunches over, erection gradually settling as time passes, as if recognizing space and time is needed to accommodate her spazzing. “What did you think you were feeling when we would makeout before?”
Because Lord knows there have been at least a few occasions when things got heated between them to the point where he felt like he was going to explode in his pants. And most of the time she was straddling his lap so how she hadn’t felt something prior to now that indicated he was on the bigger side is beyond him.
“I don’t know!” She throws her hands up. “Certainly not dickzilla!” Joe follows the back of her, attempting to not focus too much on the jiggle of her ass when she walks over to grab one of the complimentary water bottles off the coffee table. Unnecessary huffing sounds accompanying her shuffling back over to him. “Joseph, my brother-husband in Christ, you don’t understand. I can barely stick a Super Plus tampon up there without blinking back tears.” She lifts up the water bottle and points to the cap. “My vagina is like this.” He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, doing his best to not show just how utterly ridiculous he finds this whole thing. She then flips the bottle and gestures to the bottom of said bottle. “Your dick is like this!” She throws it to the side as she opens his mouth to scold her as it bumps against the table and rolls away near the TV. “Do you see the dilemma? It’s not gonna fit.”
“Are you done?”
And he knows she’s nearing the tail end of the climax with this whole episode when she starts to whine and stomp. “I’m gonna end up on Sex Sent Me to the ER.”
“Oh my God, come here.” Joe reaches for her arm and tugs her between his spread legs as he sits at the edge of the bed. He eases his hands down to her waist while she continues to pout and frown, looking down at the floor. “Mariella, we don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not ready.”
His honest reassurance must take her by surprise. She lifts her eyes to his, mouth set into a frown as she blinks several times. Like she's trying to take in what he just said. “but...but it’s our wedding night…”
“And?” Joe shakes his head and pulls her even closer as she settles her hands on his shoulders. “Ri, I didn’t marry you just so we can have sex. I love you, and I respect this is a big step for you. Just because you’re my wife doesn’t mean you have to force yourself into doing something you’re not ready for.”
Perhaps he should have made that clearer ahead of time, but Joe was honestly under the impression that she knew he would wait for her as long as she needed. It’s a strange sort of space to be in for someone who primarily dated women in the past solely because of their ability to match his high sex drive. And Lord knows he desires Ri in every way imaginable, has gotten himself off countless times at the thought of fucking her. But his love for her will always outweigh everything else, so wherever her comfort zone is, is where he’ll meet and hold her hand until she’s ready to progress further.
“It’s not—” She interrupts, shaking her head. “I want this, Joe. I’m ready. I am, I promise. I just.” He kisses her inner wrist, again inhaling the alluring scent of whatever body oil she’d used right as she takes a deep breath. “I can do this.” Her hands shift to his face as she kisses him, his own hands dropping to her ass, giving a gentle squeeze. She smiles against him, pulling back and biting down on her bottom lip. “I just need to warm up.”
He frowns. “Warm up?”
Mariella turns and rushes to the bathroom where Joe realizes the music was still playing—Sexual Healing—the sound most likely obscured and faded out by her mini panic attack.
“Ri, what are you—”
He closes his eyes.
This damn girl.
Joe releases yet another heavy sigh as the music transitions from one classic to another, the latter, however, being the wildest shit he’s heard in some time.
Eye of the Tiger
But it’s a short lived time as he watches Ri stand in front of the mirror, bouncing up and down on the soles of her feet as he’s done himself a few times over the years.
When trying to get into game mode.
“I can do this,” she says to herself, nodding and rolling her shoulders. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
“Mariella.” If she doesn’t turn that damn music off and come get in the bed so they can just go to sleep. “Turn off—”
“Not now, Joe Bear, I’m training!”
“Training for wh—”
Another question interrupted when she switches to another song.
The familiar opening of the Rocky theme song as she transitions to pretending she’s boxing, bouncing from side to side with the fucking sound effects of her huffing and puffing like she’s on the brink of an asthma attack.
And knowing her ass, she probably is.
“Ri, if you don’t sit your ass down before you get us kicked out this damn hotel.” It’s a miracle no one’s knocked at the door—or wall—yet from her loud ass music and unnecessary dancing.
“Halfway through, hubby!”
Halfway?
“I’m going to bed,” he mutters, standing up and moving to pull back the blankets when she rushes into the bedroom, phone in hand.
“Not yet! I’m almost ready.” Joe stands with his arms crossed as she messes around with her phone before yet another song is added to this whole unnecessary ass scene.
And the minute “Everybody dance now” screeches into the room, he’s back to peeling back the blankets while she starts to do lateral lunges in the middle of the damn floor followed by quick, rapid squats with awful ass form.
“Gotta get loose,” she pants, transitioning to doing the running man. It’s only then that he simply shakes his head and smiles, running his hand over his face. The whole thing is actually comical as fuck, and mostly because she’s 100% serious right now.
This is just….this is his Ri.
“I’m about to turn the light off.”
“No!”
Her shout is followed by her—when the fuck did she even switch to the Macarena?—running and jumping on the bed. Quickly moving to all fours, her ass up in the air, as she looks over at him. “I’m ready.”
If not for the hilarious, dramatic way she says 'ready,' he’s certain his dick would have jerked from the way she wagged her ass.
He keeps his focus on her as he dips one knee into the mattress that groans under the weight of his addition. “Ri…”
“Oh shoot, wrong position.” She sucks her teeth and Joe continues to observe with confusion as she drops to her stomach and instead rolls onto her back. Confusion that quickly morphs into returned exasperation when she lifts her legs in the air, holding them up by her ankles, making strained noises followed by an out of breath. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
And while he was previously ready to go to bed, his eyes flicking towards her legs make his jaw clench at the sight of her pussy lips having been completely swallowed the thong. That desire revived and sensation of tightness in his boxers returning.
Only Ri could make him bounce back and forth between disbelief, humor, and now lust in a span of five minutes.
Her hold over him is diabolical.
“Wait!”
Except the screeching of the tape sounds when she goes to untangle herself from the position, making an “oof” sound when she accidentally rolls over off the bed and onto the floor from the other side. Joe starts to round said bed to check on her when she lifts her hand with a thumbs up. “I’m okay!”
Joe tilts his head back and rolls his shoulders.
On second thought, maybe they should just call it a night.
“Joe Bear,” she huffs, climbing back onto the bed. “Grab your phone.”
He blows out a breath, shifting so that his hands are on his hips. “For what, Ri?”
She groans loudly and throws up her hands, sitting on her knees. “So I can record my last will and testament.”
“Ri.”
“And whatever you do, do not let that lil’ colorist Alexandra Shipp play me in the biopic. Keke will do just fine.”
“Mariella.”
a/n : before anyone asks, yes, they did end up consummating their marriage that night. yes, mariella's dramatic ass absolutely made joe push her out in a wheelchair the next morning. and yes, she blasted 'i just had sex' by lonely island on the drive back to their apartment.
she also may have played it on repeat when they got home and said she was on "bed rest" for the next three days.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After a show, Roman doesn't wait a second to take what he needs
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: SMUT 18+, locker room fun, semi public sex, daddy kink, dirty talk, slut shaming (blink and you will miss it lol), unprotected sex, creampie, oral (man giving), rough and deep sex
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.9k
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: I had this one sitting in my wips for almost a year now and thought I'd finish it for the birthday man! I changed a couple of things, this isn't exactly where it was supposed to go but it's what I came up with. It wasn't a birthday fic but I made it to be. Kinda. I hope you enjoy, I know it's been a little while since I shared something. Love y'all 💋
A/N 2: I had to reedit and change the picture/gifs set up because Tumblr flagged the post and hid it for everyone... 🙃 but now it looks fine! 🤞
Oh and Happy Birthday Roman or whatever 🙄 I love you even though you have big ears, teeth for days, you're a sexy DILF and you're somewhat of a good wrestler (kidding, you're the best) ❤
Credits: Roman pictures and gifs from Tumblr, text picture from Pinterest, lace divider from @anitalenia, MDNI divider by me, blue gradient divider by @omi-resources
Masterlist | Taglist
The locker room was silent, apart from the TV mounted on the wall, that only minutes ago broadcasted Raw, but now was broadcasting a random show I didn’t care about enough to remember the name.
I could hear the wrestlers and various crew members moving around in the backstage of the arena, sometimes catching a little bit of conversation here and there. People coming and going in the hallway, making me stare at the door as if it would suddenly open and welcome the man I am waiting for.
The man of the hour, the World Heavyweight Champion—Roman Reigns.
Once again tonight, he was advertised on the show.
The attraction of the night because let's be honest, everybody talks about him, whether they like him or not. The Tribal Chief is the star, the main event, the head of the table.
The ring is and forever will be his home.
Nowhere else is he more comfortable than in a ring, under thousands of people's eyes—and millions watching from the comfort of their home.
The day he finally leaves that ring, a long period of grieving will follow.
Nothing will ever be the same.
There was a before Roman Reigns and there will be an after.
The latter being harder to replace, to forget.
Roman Reigns will never be forgotten, nor will he ever be replaceable.
Because Roman is not just a pleasure to the eyes, leaving anyone jealous of his physique and his handsome features, but he is an incredible athlete with undeniable charisma.
A 6'3 man and 200 something pounds of muscles and hard work. 41 years young and still killing it in a ring, as if he was still 20 or 30 years old. Superman punches and spears done to perfection, putting each of his opponents at the back of the line, after the 3 counts.
1. 2. 3.
The ring bells and the champion is crowned.
Still the Heavyweight Champion, he can hold his title proudly in the air until the next man decides to challenge him.
A fighter in and outside of the ring. Every single time.
Defeating other wrestlers and defeating cancer, his lifelong battle—one he will never truly be done with, always having to keep beating its ass.
No questions asked.
He can turn the whole arena into a cult, thousands of people lifting their ones to the sky, acknowledging and serenading him with OTC chants and calling him the Tribal Chief and the Head of the Table.
It's so easy for him to grab a microphone and cut a promo, making everyone sit down and listen to him, drinking in each and every single words that he speaks.
His presence is felt, not just seen.
When he enters a room, everyone stares.
When he's there, everyone knows without even having to look.
The air shifts, the energy changes.
That's the effect he has.
The night is over, but you can still feel the chills on your body, his entrance music never forgotten in your brain and you never seem to be able to keep your finger down when anyone mentions him because this is more than wrestling.
This isn't just a promo, it's a show of respect. It's legacy. Family. Bloodline.
It's so many things at once.
What a privilege to be in the front seat of it all, to be the woman he always comes back to and have the chance to be called his.
Although, I have to admit, it is hard for me to stay focused on what he does or says out there.
He's too much of a distraction himself.
Growls and grunts while in the ring resemble the same ones he makes when he's doing another stipulation of a wrestling match.
Only exception, this type of match doesn't take place in a wrestling ring.
Anywhere else but there.
Similar actions but different scenarios.
Different finishes.
Him on top, while I'm under him, sometimes switching to spice things up.
He has the upper hand, sometimes I do, the same way it works in that ring.
No belts to win. No opponents to beat. Not even a bell ringing signaling the end of the match.
None of that.
The goal is simple.
Conquer each and every curve and crevice of my body.
Two winners but no loser. Everyone wins in this game for two.
Claiming my body with what God blessed him with, marking me as his as we both unravel together. Him feeding me through ropes and ropes of his love while I take all he has to offer me.
Watching him wrestle or even just stand and look handsome in the center of the ring as he delivers greatness, baritone voice echoing through the microphone, never fails to leave me wanting more.
Craving the same kind of energy.
The same force.
Raspy and husky voice whispering dirty and nasty words in my ear. Praising my submissive self, letting him use my body as he pleases. Hands and dick claiming my body like no one has ever done before.
Dominating me.
Taking what’s his while giving me what I need. Wanting him to manhandle me, maneuver my body in any way and all the positions imaginable. Body at his full disposition, ready to please and obey all his commands.
I want to be his good girl.
Heavy footsteps stopped in front of the door, before I even had the time to think, it opened, revealing a tall and imposing 6’3 man in all of his glory, his title in hand.
“Hey, bab-” I barely had time to greet him accordingly, the energy shifting. Roman’s eyes locked on me instantly, wandering up and down my body and making me feel like a piece of meat. I felt shivers run down my body, my pussy starting to show appreciation and need for the man in front of me, now licking his lips and reaching behind him, making sure the door was locked.
Intruders and unexpected guests weren’t welcomed to our little private after party.
“Perfect. Exactly the person I need right now,” he smirked, beckoning me over with his pointer finger, carefully putting his title down. “Come here lucky girl…”
The look he gave me just now, I recognized a little too well. Seen it plenty of times before.
Eyes undressing me. Permanent smirk staying on his plump and delicious lips.
I knew exactly what he wanted.
What he needed.
Those eyes hid absolutely nothing about his real intentions, brown orbs now looked nothing like it.
Now dark and filled with something else.
Lust? Need? Love?
Probably a mix of the three.
That dangerous tongue of his, teasing and demonstrating what plans it had for me later against his own lips.
Long fingers making my body miss the way he touches me. Pleasing me with only a brush of them. Long digits entering my holes, playing tricks only they knew how to master.
The lack of privacy and intimacy this room provided and the fact we were now done here for the night, asked for me to try and bring some common sense back into the situation.
“Roman! You really can’t wait until we’re back home?” Seeing as I didn’t move from my spot—sitting on the leather couch in the middle of the room—he slowly strutted his way to me, making my pulse quicken and panties moisten.
We had a comfortable bed waiting for us at home and I wanted nothing more than to have him all to myself but not here.
To be fair, I knew we wouldn’t make it home anyway. The ride home required us to take his private jet. And knowing how impatient and uncaring he is about fucking me anywhere he wants to, it was certain we would reach our highs while being high up in the sky.
Still, I preferred fucking in a jet then here, providing us more privacy and intimacy.
I had other plans but I guess he also had plans of his own.
It was a special day for him.
His birthday.
I didn't want to celebrate it in a locker room.
“Do I look like someone who can wait?!” Voice husky and deep with need and lust, my body instinctively responded, preparing to receive whatever he felt like offering me tonight.
Pointing down to the evident bulge in his pants, indeed it looked like he couldn’t wait any longer.
Roman—like the impatient man he is—had to take matters into his own hands.
In one quick motion, expertly grabbing the back of my thighs, he picked me up, hands gripping the meat of my thighs, securely keeping me in place.
I yelped, eyes wide, not expecting him to do that. Instinctively, my thighs wrapped around his waist, the grip on his fingers almost bruising on my skin from how tightly he held onto me.
Low moans left my parted lips but that’s all that came out.
The rest was stuck.
Words caught in my throat, blocked and unable to come out. A switch he didn’t yet turn on.
Soon, though, I’ll be trying to lock it back again.
If he even allows me. I doubt it.
Turning around, he nearly pushed me into the wall, right next to the door he erupted in seconds ago. The wall was cold and rough against my skin. Air almost suffocating, tension high, a lethal combination making it pretty much impossible to get out of this situation with clothes on.
The warmth of his body, the feeling of his rough hands on my legs from under my dress, the feeling of his skin, of his muscles as I grabbed his biceps, it was all too much.
Lips and teeth attacking my neck with open mouthed kisses and nibbles, like he wanted a taste of me. His cologne and faint smell of sweat from his earlier action in the ring, were the last things my body needed for all my senses to be filled with him everywhere.
Like a drug, it gave me a rush, a need.
I craved more, drunk off of him.
More kisses. More touches.
Now, all of him had invaded each and every one of my senses, unable to focus on anything else but him.
That’s the usual effect this man has on me.
I’m used to it by now. Losing all sense of control and common sense when he claims my body with the slightest of actions.
Wearing a dress tonight was definitely a good idea, Roman easily making his way in between my legs. His throbbing cock knew exactly where to go, finding the treasured land easily as soon as it was released from the constrict of his pants and underwear.
The surprise when he pushed my panties to the side and pushed—shoved—his dick all the way inside my pussy.
I gasped loudly at the welcomed but unexpected intrusion. Eyes squeezed shut at the stretch, nails digging into his arms, clawing and marking the skin.
This comes with no surprise with the amount of time he and I have fucked—this man has one hell of a dick and he knows how to use it.
Except, his cock isn’t only long but also very thick.
Adjustment needed for me when he feels like coming inside to play.
But not like he cared about that little detail right now.
One way or another, he will find his way in.
He always does.
Tight pussy pulled him in, locking him in place but still, it didn’t stop him from pushing and trying to thrust his way fully inside, making himself at home.
My breath caught in my throat, already feeling full and I could tell—and feel—he wasn't even half way inside.
Stern eyes and commanding voice, Roman wasn’t worried about me.
He knew his pussy and memorized the way it felt and how it fitted his size perfectly.
“You know it fits, just take it,” he growled, hissing at the way my tight cunt fluttered around him. He tried pushing himself inside again, groaning desperately. “Come on, lemme in…”
Perfect dick making me feel like I was about to be split open. Legs widening, pussy squeezing and spasming, wanting to welcome him inside but barely hanging on with that much hardness to deal with.
And God knows, that was almost impossible to achieve.
Roman usually makes sure I'm ready, fully prepared to take him by using some foreplay.
Not tonight.
Not when he's that horny and he can't control himself.
Moaning loudly, I whined, looking up at him with hooded eyes, holding onto him for dear life. “...So big-mhmm-full—”
Still wondered how the hell he managed to fit all of him inside of me. He’s some kind of magician for sure because there is no way.
I could feel his burning gaze on me, eyes locked on the way my face contorted in both pleasure and discomfort, my cunt still trying to make him fit inside my tight opening.
Thank God I never had any problems getting wet with him, helping him move in and out, lubricating and facilitating the passage of his huge cock in my tight pussy.
Roman let out a groan again, getting frustrated at my greedy pussy that wanted him inside but wasn't quick enough to get used to his impressive size.
Patience was never his biggest quality.
When he wants something, he wants it now, not later.
“What did I just say?! You know it fits!” I cried out as he fed me one deep thrust, nearly feeling him in my stomach. “Stop whining and fucking… take… it.” Three deep and strong thrusts made me see a glint of the stars and successfully managed to turn me on even more, wet pussy seconds away from turning into a Slip N’ Slide.
It's a good thing Roman loves those.
“Ro-Roman…” I managed to let slip from my mouth, voice strained. Whimpers followed soon after as his tip started teasing my hidden and spongy spot deep inside of me.
With the pleasured sound he just let out and the way I felt even fuller, I think he had managed to force his way inside, losing control of my pussy.
The sounds coming out from down there were nasty and nearly pornographic.
Sounds of skin slapping on skin, his balls ricocheting against my ass each time he pushed back. My pussy joined in on the concert too, mixing in some of its very own sounds—squelching sounds.
The whole mix created the perfect mixtape for a good time.
Whoever was to walk by at this instant, would know exactly what kind of game was being played on the other side.
Not only was it hot in here, but the room, filled with moans, grunts and whimpers, only added to the arousal of us both.
“That’s it…” he growled, feeling my cunt clenching and squeezing his meat, trying to accommodate his size. “Perfect pussy, remembering me each time like I never left…” he leaned down and bit my earlobe. “And if I could… I’d stay buried in it all day long…”
Deep thrusts and rolls of his hips followed his words. My ears almost went deaf, overwhelmed with the intensity of it all.
Unable to focus on anything else but the way he was taking possession of my pussy and my whole body, with each snap of his hips on mine
“See this shit?” He looked down at where we were connected, one hand reaching behind my neck to make me look too. “Perfect. Just fucking perfect," he closed his eyes and bit on his bottom lip before looking down again, “Like always, this pussy welcomes me in like second skin.”
The sight alone almost made me gush out on his big cock instantly. His long length drove in and out of me, eaten up by my tight and wet pussy. Glistening in my juices, he was moving fast and with purpose, hitting all the spots with perfect precision.
Eyes moving up on me, on the way I was falling apart in his arms, he chuckled.
“You love this shit don’t you? Daddy’s dick splitting you open and turning you into a slut for me... I know you love this, sweetheart,” he chuckled some more when I answered him with a loud whiny moan and breathless cry of his name. “Shit-you’re squeezing the hell out of me right now…” He hissed, leaning to stay inches away from my face, our lips teasing a kiss.
Words were unnecessary.
My pussy was doing all the talking anyway.
Growling again, Roman smacked my ass, making me whine and almost lose it right here and there. “Babygirl’s getting close, huh?” He mewled in my ear, “Wanna cum? Make a mess on daddy?”
Feeling me clench and dripping down on him, he went even deeper, helping me bounce back on him, meeting him in between his thrusts. His baritone and raspy voice drove me insane and made my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Cum for daddy.”
It was all I needed.
My body started shaking, eyes squeezed shut as he made me cum hard. I felt like I was screaming but nothing came out. Mouth hung open, eyes closed.
My pussy was so tight and gripping him so hard, I felt him twitch.
“Lemme get a taste of this juicy pussy…” Opening my eyes as I felt the material of the leather couch under me, they quickly rolled to the back of my head.
Feasting on me like he hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, Roman's mouth was everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
Licking and exploring my pussy, he had just fucked so, so good seconds ago.
My clit, my lips, even my asshole.
Nothing was left untouched.
I felt empty. No longer feeling the hardness of his sex inside of me. It was a weird feeling considering how only minutes ago, this very same pussy was struggling to even make him fit.
Now, it didn't want him to leave. She wants him back.
Although, I'm not one to complain about some cuni.
Neither did this pussy.
It's disgusting to hear and feel how drenched my pussy is, knowing Roman didn't give a damn about it, not letting his mouth and tongue miss a single spot.
I could picture the whole scene and how it would look like it was taken from a porn scene.
My whole sex life felt like a porn scene at times with Roman. The amount of filth and freak it combined was almost embarrassing.
I can't get enough of him and he can't get enough of me.
We ruined each other for anybody else.
The softness of his lips around my clit contrasted perfectly with the roughness of his beard scraping my inner thighs. As instinct, my legs locked around his head and my hands reached for his hair, uncaringly tugging and pulling at the strands, making his manbun look a mess.
None of us cared about it for now.
He groaned into my cunt at the feeling and quickly pulled his face away, still a glistening mess covered in my juices. He didn't care, acting like it was nothing and swapped my hands away from him to bury himself in between my legs again.
Legs spread wide by his hands, he went back into driving himself inside of me, drilling my pussy in fast and deep strokes, penetrating not only my cunt but my whole soul.
Now he was going to chase his nut, clearly on the verge of erupting inside of me after all that.
“ROMAN!” I cried out in pleasure, shutting my mouth quickly in embarrassment, my hand barely containing my voice echoing inside the locker room.
I was sure everyone in the arena heard me.
Of course, Roman didn't give two fucks about it.
For all I know, it only encouraged him.
“I know… feels good, huh?” Removing my hand from my mouth he shook his head with that damn dangerous and wicked smirk of his. “Nuh huh. Don’t hold back, babygirl. Wanna hear you… Whose dick is it?"
I was a fucking mess.
My head was spinning, on cloud nine. Breathless, I struggled to find the strength to use my voice cords but I managed to answer him. "M-mine. It's mine. M-my dick."
“Damn right babygirl, it’s all yours… and you know how to make it yours," he licked his lips and moaned at the taste of myself on his lips, igniting his own arousal even more.
“Daddy…” I whined loudly, feeling that familiar feeling building up inside of me again.
He grabbed my body and nearly made me dizzy from how fast he maneuvered me and forced me on my knees. Pushing me against the arm of the couch, I didn’t have time to breath, that he was back taking my breath away.
“Oh-FUCK! D—DADDY!”
“You’re doing so good babygirl… Taking daddy so well… I’m gon’ give you your prize, pretty girl… You gon’ lemme cum in this pussy, huh? My pussy?”
All I could do was nod.
Throat dry from all the screams and moans that came out of me and an overexposure to good dick—to him.
“Use your words, baby… You know daddy don’t like feeling ignored, I need to hear you…”
“Mhmm-yes,” I muttered under my breath. I felt the grip of his hand on my hair tighten.
"Yes what?"
"C-cum. I w‐want your cum," turning my head to look at him, it was now my job to get what I wanted. "Give me my cum. Give me all of it, daddy. Don't leave me empty. I want it s-so bad."
My pleas and desperation every time he's about to cum, always drives him crazy.
He loves this shit.
Loves knowing how badly I want to feel his warm seed inside of me.
I turn feral at this point each time.
Starving, I need him to feed me with his white and sticky cum, an evidence of how much he loves me and I gave him pleasure.
Make a mess everywhere, I don't care, as long as I get filled by him.
A stuffed babygirl, is a happy babygirl.
Roman nearly collapsed on top of me, followed by a deep grunt and one last snap of his hips against mine. Buried to the hilt inside of me, his whole body shook and I shivered as soon as I felt the first spurt of cum. "Yes, yes, YES. Give it to me-fuck."
Breathless and bodies sticky with sweat, we stayed connected together for long minutes trying to catch our breaths and recover from our respective orgasms.
"You okay?" Roman asked, pecking my shoulder. He always hated how carried away he can get at times, too horny and in need of feeling my pussy around him that he doesn't take the time to do foreplay and ask me if I'm ready to take him.
"Y-yes."
"Promise? That was a lot," his hands went straight to work, caressing and rubbing my body.
I smiled and lifted my head to look at him. "That was fucking amazing," he leaned down to kiss me and I pulled away after. "Happy birthday, champ."
Roman instantly relaxed, a smile forming on his handsome face. "Thank you, baby."
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“Can I eat it?”
Ciara choked on her chamomile tea. “What?!” She sputtered as she wiped away some of the tea that had landed on her chin and chest. She arched an eyebrow as she looked down at him, and he was already looking up at her.
“Please…”
“Josh, what the fuck?!” She laughed, then let out a yelp when he nipped at her thigh. “What has gotten into you?!”
“The kids are asleep, and my wife is walking around in these tiny ass shorts.” He muttered, pulling at her shorts. “And smelling so fucking good.” Ciara felt a delicious shiver run through her body. The hunger in his eyes made her breath catch. Ten years of marriage, and he still looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. “Lemme eat that pussy baby.”
He took the cup out of her hands and placed it on the nightstand next to their bed.
“Josh…” She trailed off with a whisper as he pulled her shorts down her legs.
Ciara bit her lip, her head falling back against the pillows as Josh hooked his fingers into her panties, sliding them down with agonizing slowness. His warm breath fanned across her pussy, making her squirm in anticipation.
"Fuck baby," he murmured, his voice deepening with desire. "Pretty ass pussy."
He nuzzled his face into her cunt, breathing her in, before darting his tongue out and licking a slow, deliberate stripe from her entrance up to her clit. Ciara jerked at the contact, toes curling, all her focus narrowing to the slick heat of his mouth on her. He circled her clit with the tip of his tongue, feather-light at first, teasing, knowing exactly how to get her to squirm.
A loud moan escaped her as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he started to flick his tongue. She gripped his hair and tugged when he brought his tongue down to her entrance and lapped up her slickness with greedy, dragging strokes. It was the way he moaned against her, the rumble vibrating through her, that always got her, like eating her pussy was his favorite damn thing to do.
Her back arched off the bed as she felt his index finger circle her opening before slowly sliding inside of her. He pumped his finger in and out, curling wickedly, never breaking the rhythm of his tongue. Josh groaned, practically purring as he pressed in a second finger, scissoring her open while his tongue flattened and dragged side to side over her clit.
She propped herself up on her elbows, now biting her bottom lip to stop from moaning too loud. She loved watching her husband get pussy drunk. He was so good at it. His eyes were on her, dark and wild-like, watching her come undone on his fingers and tongue.
“Jo-osh.” She moaned softly. “Fuck baby,”
“Yeah,” He said after releasing her clit with a soft plop. “You like this shit, huh?” He asked, bringing his other hand up and slapping her pussy. Her hips jerked, and he did it again before diving back into her slick pussy.
Her orgasm hit her hard. She clamped her thighs around his head as wave after wave rolled through her, and for a moment her vision fuzzed out. Josh didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers relentless as she started gushing around his fingers.
“Fuckkkk, Daddy.” She moaned, and Josh felt his dick jump in his shorts.
“Oh, you tryna get a baby put in you tonight.” He said as he pulled away. Ciara rolled her eyes, but the blissful smile on her face told him all he needed to know.
He bent back down and placed an open-mouth kiss on her clit before crawling up the bed. Ciara watched as he pulled his briefs down, and his dick popped out, smacking his stomach, thick and flushed and already leaking. She moaned as he dragged his dick through the mess between her thighs, smearing it over her pussy before he lined it up. He paused to rub the head against her clit, back and forth, making her gasp and twitch. “You ready, mama?”
She nodded, eyes rolling into the back of her head as he sunk into her. She whimpered and tilted her hips, greedy to have more of him, wanting him closer, deeper. He grabbed her thighs, lifting them until her knees reached her chest and folding her nearly in half, the stretch tight and impossibly deep. The angle made her delirious, pressure and heat blooming in her core. He set a punishing rhythm, hips slapping against her ass, every thrust a shockwave through her bones. She could feel his dick thick inside her, and the obscene, wet sound of their bodies colliding filled the room even as she fought not to scream.
“Shit,” Josh moaned out. “F-fell so fuckin good, mama.”
Ciara could barely breathe. Each drive of him inside sent a burst of pressure and heat up her spine,
Josh leaned down, his mouth eager and searching, and pressed his lips to her neck, under her ear, dragging his teeth along the delicate skin. The burn of his beard, the rough drag, and then his tongue soothing it. “Fuck,” he groaned into her ear, “You gon’ make me cum already.”
Hearing his fucked out, strained voice in her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped his forearms as her juices flooded out of her. Her breath crashed out in staccato gasps as he rolled his hips in hard, fast circles, grinding her into the mattress and grinding out her orgasm until she thought she might pass out.
“You gon’ let me fill you up? He gritted out, hips stuttering as he tried to hold off his own orgasm.
“Mhmm,” she breathed, clutching at his waist, “please, please—“She couldn’t finish it; the words dissolved into a moan as his cock throbbed deep inside. She was already trembling, stretched to the edge, slick and raw and oversensitive. Josh’s face hovered over hers, sweat beading on his brow, his gaze hungry and warm.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered, his voice shredded by need. “Take it for me. Want you so fuckin’ full, baby.” He leaned down, hips still pumping his release into her with short, neat thrusts, fucking her through the aftershocks. The pleasure was too much, too bright, and she whimpered, clutching at his back, her nails digging little crescents into his skin.
He shifted enough to kiss her lips, slow and messy. Ciara cupped his jaw as she kissed him back, thumbing at the scruff on his cheeks. He stayed inside her, cock softening but still held, a gentle anchor as his hands stroked slow circles over her thighs.
“Damn, you freaky as hell.” He muttered against her lips, laughing when she pinched his side. Ciara snorted and flicked his on his forehead as he collapsed beside her, propping his head up on his hand, his other arm slung lazily over her waist.
“You’re the freak,” Ciara said, poking his chest. “You’re a fiend. No self-control at all.” Josh just grinned, mouth shiny, eyes heavy-lidded and smug. He reached up and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, all tender despite everything they’d just done. “You looked like you liked it.”
Ciara shrugged. “It was alright,” she squeaked when he pinched her nipple.
“Yeah, okay.” Josh grinned. “Oh yes, daddy.” He said, mimicking her voice. “Put a baby in me.” He rolled his eyes. “Alright, my ass.”
“Mmm, shut up and pass me my tea, fool,” she said, but her voice was loose and syrupy as she rolled over into the heat of his chest. He didn’t even bother to wipe himself off, just cupped her ass and hauled her up until her thighs bracketed his hips. His dick was already starting to harden again, pressed right up against the sticky warmth still leaking out of her.
She snorted when she felt him twitch against her. “Don’t you dare.”
He reached for the mug and pressed it to her lips like a peace offering, tea cold now, bitter with the ghost of honey and chamomile. She screwed her face up at the taste, and Josh laughed before taking the cup back from her and setting it on the nightstand. He placed a quick kiss on her lips before gently moving her off his lap.
“You lucky I love you,” He said as he got off the bed and pulled his shorts back on.
“Don’t forget the honey,” She called out, laughing as Josh flipped her off before walking out of their room.
Author's Note: For some reason, smut is easier to write than the next chapters of Torn & The Tutor... 🤷🏽♀️ enjoy! lol
Summary: what starts as harmless flirting between you and Jey Uso quickly turns into something deeper after one unforgettable dinner date. Between nervous laughter, quiet confessions, and undeniable chemistry, the night pulls both of you closer until the tension finally breaks behind the closed doors of your apartment, where desire and vulnerability blur into something that feels dangerously close to love.
A/N: I’ve been writing this smut for weeks now I hope yall enjoy it. This is my first one I’ve written I’ll write more in the future (or sooner if yall ask). Also leave some feedback or your thoughts. Also this was kinda based of thd Soldier music video.
The set was loud in that controlled, expensive way. The music was thumping through massive speakers, directors calling cuts, cameras rolling, and everyone moving like pieces on a board that had to land perfectly or start all over again.
Jey Uso had been on a few sets before, but this one felt different.
It was styled like a high-energy throwback video, very early 2000s swagger, men posted up in crews, chains catching light, engines revving in the background, dancers moving like the beat owned them. The whole concept carried that “soldier energy”, that power, attitude, confidence everywhere you looked.
And right in the middle of it all was him and his twin brother.
Jey Uso leaned against a sleek car during one of the takes, flexing on cue with the rest of the men in the scene. Beside him, his brother moved in sync like they always did, laughing between cuts.
Jimmy Uso caught Jey’s shoulder during a break. “Bro, you keep messin’ up your own takes.”
“I’m not messin’ up,” Jey shot back, smirking. “Director keep yelling at everybody.”
But Jimmy wasn’t looking at the director anymore. His eyes flicked past Jey toward the dancers.
“Or maybe,” Jimmy said slowly, “you distracted.”
That’s when Jey saw her again.
You.
You stepped onto set like you belonged there but didn’t need anyone to notice. Baggy low-rise cargo pants hung loose at your hips, layered with a fitted top that contrasted the silhouette: structured, styled, revealing just enough confidence without trying too hard. Long 40-inch weave cascaded down your back in soft waves that moved every time you turned your head.
You weren’t dressed like the other dancers who leaned heavily into sparkle and glitter. You had your own lane with boldness and finesse.
And Jey noticed that immediately.
Especially when the choreographer called you over.
“Alright,” the director said, pointing between you and him, “you’re paired with him this run. Close interaction, feel the beat, keep it natural.”
Natural.
That word should’ve been easy.
It wasn’t.
Because now you were standing in front of Jey Uso.
Up close, he realized you weren’t even looking at him like everyone else on set did. No starstruck energy. No hesitation. Just focus.
“You ready?” you asked casually.
Jey blinked once, then nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I’m ready.”
The music dropped.
The beat hit.
And suddenly there was no space for overthinking.
Your hand landed on his shoulder first: light, intentional and then slid down to his arm as you moved with the choreography. The move was simple: circle him, step in, connect, then break away on the beat.
But when your fingers brushed his bicep, Jey felt it like it was amplified.
Not because it was scripted.
Because it felt real.
You glanced up at him mid-move, hair swinging as you turned, and for a second your eyes met.
That second stretched too long.
“Cut!” the director shouted. “Good. Again.”
But Jey wasn’t hearing that.
He was still stuck on the way you looked at him like he was just another person on set and somehow that made it worse.
⸻
The shoot didn’t wrap that day.
Or the next.
Or the one after that.
Schedules kept shifting: lighting changes, reshoots, dancers rotating in and out, but somehow you were always there on the days Jey was called in.
And every time…
He noticed something else.
The way you warmed up alone before anyone asked you to. The way you stayed quiet between takes but laughed softly when someone said something funny off-camera. The way you never leaned into the attention, even when people clearly gave it.
And every time you danced with him, it got harder for Jey to act normal.
“Bro,” Jimmy muttered one afternoon while they waited on a reset, “you staring again.”
“I’m not staring.”
“You’ve been staring since day two.”
Jey rubbed the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t know. She different.”
Jimmy raised a brow. “So talk to her then.”
Jey scoffed. “It’s not that easy.”
“It is that easy. You just scared.”
That hit a nerve.
Jey watched you across the set again, you were stretching, braid-length hair shifting over your shoulder, completely unaware of how many eyes followed you when you moved.
Jimmy leaned in slightly. “Look, either you gonna shoot your shot or you gonna keep doing that dumb love-struck glare all week.”
“I don’t glare.”
“You do.”
Jey exhaled sharply.
Then, finally: “Aight. I’ll talk to her.”
Jimmy smirked like he’d just won something. “There it is.”
⸻
Later that day, the opportunity came without planning it.
You were sitting off to the side of set, scrolling on your phone while waiting for lighting adjustments. The noise around you faded a little as Jey walked over, hands shoved in his pockets like he suddenly forgot how to act normal in his own body.
“Hey,” he said.
You looked up. “Hey.”
Silence.
Jey hated silence.
“You been on all the shoot days,” he said, immediately regretting how that sounded.
You gave a small smile. “Yeah. I’m assigned here.”
“That makes sense,” he nodded too fast. “I mean… you good at it.”
Another pause.
Then you tilted your head slightly. “You okay?”
That broke something loose in him.
Jey laughed under his breath. “Honestly? I been trying to figure out how to say somethin’ to you for like three days.”
That made you actually smile.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “But every time I start, I feel stupid.”
You leaned back slightly, still watching him. “Try anyway.”
That was all the encouragement he needed.
“I like you,” Jey said, simple and direct now that he’d finally stopped fighting it. “Like… for real. I don’t know how to do all the smooth talk stuff, but I been lookin’ forward to seeing you on set more than I probably should.”
For a moment, you didn’t answer.
Then you smiled again softer this time.
“I was wondering when you were gonna say something,” you admitted.
Jey blinked. “You was?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
That made him laugh in disbelief. “Man… I was over here stressin’ for no reason.”
“Pretty much,” you said, standing up slowly as the crew called for reset again. “But I’m glad you did.”
Jimmy, across the set, caught the moment and immediately looked away like he wasn’t watching anything at all.
Jey didn’t miss it.
You started walking back toward set, then glanced over your shoulder. “You still gotta finish the shoot though.”
Jey straightened, grin creeping in. “Oh I’m locked in now.”
And for the rest of the music video shoot, he was.
But not just for the cameras anymore.
The next few days on set felt different after that conversation.
Not obvious enough for everyone else to notice.
But enough.
Enough that Jey found himself searching for you the second he walked into the warehouse studio every morning. Enough that you started saving the seat beside you during breaks without saying anything about it. Enough that Jimmy would make fake gagging noises every time Jey suddenly volunteered to stay later during reshoots.
“You down bad,” Jimmy muttered one afternoon while fixing the chain around his neck between takes.
Jey rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Nah, I’m serious. You smiling at your phone now.”
“I always smile.”
Jimmy stared at him blankly.
“…you right,” Jey admitted.
Across the room, you were talking to the makeup girls, laughing softly while somebody touched up the gloss on your lips. Your baggy pants brushed against the floor as you shifted your weight, silver jewelry catching light every time you moved your hands.
Jey tried not to stare.
Tried.
Failed.
Because even dressed down, even sitting casually in a folding chair, you carried yourself in a way that pulled attention naturally. Not loud. Not thirsty for it.
Just confident.
And now that he’d actually talked to you, it only got worse.
⸻
That night’s shoot was one of the biggest scenes in the video.
Motorcycles lined the set. Bright headlights cut through fog machines while bass rattled the walls hard enough to feel in your chest. Everybody looked shiny under the lights oiled arms, tattoos out, grills flashing whenever somebody laughed.
The director wanted energy.
Swagger.
Chemistry.
And unfortunately for Jey, the chemistry part came naturally with you now.
“Closer,” the choreographer called.
You stepped between Jey’s legs where he sat on the hood of a car, moving to the rhythm while cameras circled around both of you. One of your hands slid across his chest during the count, fingers spreading against warm skin while the other hooked briefly around his chain.
Jey’s jaw tightened instantly.
The move was supposed to look teasing for the camera.
But you leaned in just enough for your perfume to hit him and suddenly he forgot there were thirty people standing around watching.
“Cut!”
The director grinned. “Yeahhhh, that’s what I’m talking about. Again.”
Jimmy barked out a laugh from somewhere off-camera.
“Oh this man gone,” he yelled.
Jey flipped him off without even looking away from you.
You tried not to laugh, biting the inside of your cheek instead.
“Professional,” you whispered.
“I’m trying,” Jey muttered back.
But he was losing the battle badly.
⸻
The longer the shoot went on, the easier you two became around each other.
You started talking between takes instead of sitting alone.
At first it was small things.
Music.
Favorite food spots.
Travel stories.
Then deeper things.
You learned Jey actually got nervous meeting new people even though everyone assumed he was naturally confident. He learned you hated fake industry personalities and almost skipped this music video job because you were tired of men treating dancers like props instead of people.
“You ain’t like that though,” you admitted one night while sitting beside him near craft services.
Jey looked over. “What you mean?”
“You actually talk to me,” you shrugged. “Most dudes here just flirt.”
He smirked slightly. “Oh, I’m flirting too.”
You laughed softly. “Yeah. But you still talk to me regular.”
Something about that stuck with him.
Because Jey realized he didn’t just think you were pretty.
He genuinely liked being around you.
⸻
By the fifth day of shooting, people on set started noticing.
The makeup artists teased every time Jey wandered over to wherever you were.
The stylist caught him fixing the waistband string on your cargos for you before a scene and nearly screamed.
Even the director started joking about the “real chemistry” helping the footage.
“You two better not start dating before I finish this edit,” he laughed.
Jey nearly choked on his water.
You just smiled into your cup quietly.
That smile alone had him ready to risk everything.
⸻
The final night of shooting ended later than expected.
Everybody was exhausted.
The warehouse felt warmer now, crowded with half-packed equipment and people saying goodbye before heading out. Somebody played music from a speaker while production assistants wrapped cords around their arms.
You were sitting on the edge of the stage platform fixing your heel strap when Jey walked over.
Then silence settled for a second—not awkward this time.
Just soft.
Jey rubbed his palms together once before finally speaking.
“So…”
You looked up.
“So?” you repeated.
“I wanna take you out.”
Direct.
Simple.
Real.
His eyes stayed on yours this time instead of darting away nervously.
“A real date,” he clarified quickly. “Not some industry party or after-shoot thing. Like… just me and you.”
Your expression softened immediately.
“And where would we go?” you asked.
Jey grinned slowly now that he realized you weren’t shutting him down.
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “But I know food gotta be involved.”
“That’s your plan?”
“Listen,” he said seriously, stepping closer. “You can learn a lot about somebody over food.”
You laughed again that same laugh he’d spent days trying to hear more of.
“And if the food’s bad?”
“Then we leave and get dessert somewhere else.”
“Mmm,” you hummed. “Okay. That’s not terrible.”
Jey folded his arms dramatically. “Not terrible is crazy.”
“It’s honest.”
He shook his head smiling before pulling his phone from his pocket.
“Aight then. Lemme get your number before you change your mind.”
You took his phone carefully, typing yourself in while your long hair spilled over your shoulder.
Jey watched the whole thing like it was the most important moment of his week.
Maybe it was.
When you handed the phone back, your fingers brushed his briefly.
“You nervous?” you asked suddenly.
“Hell yeah.”
That answer surprised you enough to make you grin.
“You hide it well.”
“Nah,” Jey admitted. “You just make me forget how to act.”
Your cheeks warmed a little at that.
From across the room came Jimmy’s loud voice:
“HE FINALLY GOT THE NUMBER?”
The entire nearby crew burst into laughter.
Jey shut his eyes immediately. “I hate that man.”
You were laughing too hard to help him.
Jimmy pointed dramatically from near the exit. “Took you long enough!”
Jey shook his head while smiling helplessly.
But honestly?
He didn’t even care about getting clowned anymore.
Not when you were standing there looking at him like maybe just maybe you liked him as much as he liked you.
——
The restaurant was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city no sign out front, just a black door and a host who knew Jey by name. You'd changed out of your set clothes into something simpler: a fitted black dress that stopped mid-thigh, gold hoops catching the dim light, your hair falling in loose waves past your shoulders. Jey had swapped his chains for a clean white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a single thin chain resting against his collarbone.
“You look…” he started, then stopped, shaking his head with a low laugh. “I ain't even got the words.”
You smiled, stepping past him into the warm glow of the dining room. “Good enough to eat?”
He choked on air, and you laughed as the host led you to a booth in the back leather seats, a candle flickering between you, music low enough to talk over but present enough to fill the silence.
The conversation came easy. Easier than it had any right to.
He told you about his kids, how they had him wrapped around their fingers, how he still got nervous before parent-teacher conferences like he was the one getting graded. You told him about your grandmother, the woman who raised you, who taught you how to cook and when to walk away from things that didn't serve you.
By the time the main course arrived steak for him, pasta for you and he'd reached across the table without thinking, his thumb brushing the inside of your wrist.
You didn't pull away.
“You know,” he said, voice lower now, “I been thinking about you all week. Not just on set. Like… when I'm trying to sleep. When I'm driving. It's annoyin’.”
You tilted your head, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Annoying?”
“In a good way.” He squeezed your wrist gently. “Like I can't get you out my head.”
Dessert came and went, something chocolate and rich that you fed him off your fork. He caught your wrist again, licked the chocolate off his lip, and held your gaze a second too long.
The air shifted.
“You ready to get out of here?” you asked, voice steady but soft.
Jey signaled for the check without breaking eye contact. “I been ready.”
The ride to your place was quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. His hand rested on your thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles against the fabric of your dress. Streetlights slid across his face in intervals, catching the sharp line of his jaw, the slight smile he couldn't seem to shake.
Your apartment was on the third floor of a walk-up: small, warm, filled with plants and books and the smell of sandalwood from a candle you'd left burning before you left. He stepped inside, looking around like he was trying to memorize every detail.
“This you,” he said, almost to himself.
You kicked off your heels by the door. “What gave it away?”
He turned to face you. “Everythin’. The plants. The books. The way you left the candle on so the place wouldn't feel empty when you got back.”
You didn't say anything. You just closed the distance.
Your hand found his chest first, pushing the fabric of his shirt flat against his skin, feeling the heat of him through the cotton. His breath hitched, and then his hands were on your waist, pulling you into him like he'd been waiting for permission all night.
The kiss started slow. His lips were soft, moving against yours with a patience that contradicted the way his fingers dug into your hips. Your tongue traced his lower lip, and he groaned as his hands sliding down to grip your ass, lifting you off the floor.
You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you down the hall, his mouth never leaving yours. Your bedroom door hit the wall with a soft thud, and then you were on your back on the mattress, him hovering above you, breathing hard.
“You sure?” he asked, voice ragged.
Instead of answering, you reached up and undid the top button of his shirt.
Then the next.
Then the next.
He shrugged out of it, tossing it somewhere behind him, and you let yourself look. Tattoos covered his chest and arms covered tribal patterns, names, and symbols all shifting with every breath. You ran your fingers down his sternum, and his eyes fluttered shut.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Your dress came off next over your head, slow, letting him watch. His hands found your waist again, thumbs pressing into the curve of your hips, and he leaned down to kiss your collarbone, then lower, his mouth dragging across the swell of your breasts.
You arched into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
His mouth closed around your nipple, tongue circling the sensitive peak, and you gasped back bowing off the bed. He worked you slow, switching sides, never rushing, each flick of his tongue drawing a sharper sound from your throat.
Your hand slid down his back, nails raking light lines across his skin. He groaned against your chest, the vibration sending a shiver straight to your cunt.
“I need you,” you breathed.
He lifted his head, eyes dark, pupils blown. “Tell me what you need.”
“Inside me. Now.”
He didn't make you wait.
His belt clinked open, jeans shoved down his thighs, and then the weight of him settled between your legs arousal hard and heavy against your thigh. You reached down, wrapped your fingers around him, guided him to your entrance.
He pushed in slow.
Inch by inch.
Your mouth fell open, a broken moan slipping out as he filled you, stretching you open around his thickness. He paused when he was fully inside, forehead pressed to yours, breath coming in ragged bursts.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You feel… shit.”
You clenched around him, and his hips jerked.
Then he started moving.
Long, deep strokes at first, each one hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. His rhythm was steady, relentless, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixing with your moans and his grunts.
He shifted angle, driving deeper, and you cried out fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.
“Right there?” he asked, voice tight.
“Yes—fuck—right there—”
He drove into you harder, faster, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady rhythm. You felt yourself climbing, the pressure building low in your belly, coiling tighter with every thrust.
“I'm close,” you gasped.
“Let go. I got you.”
His hand slipped between your bodies, thumb finding your clit in tight circles, and that was it you shattered, back arching, a raw cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm pulsed through you, walls clenching around him.
He followed a second later, hips stuttering, a low groan ripped from his chest as he came inside you, hot and deep.
He collapsed beside you, both of you breathing hard, skin slick with sweat. After a long moment, he turned his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face.
“So…” he said, voice hoarse. “Was the food good or what?”
A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed I tried. I’m definitely gonna write more. Leave your thoughts in the comments. PEACE & LOVE
Author's Note: Happy Birthday to the sexiest man in all of WWE! ☝️. What perfect timing to finally post another installment of S.E then on his special day 😍. Happy reading you filthy freaks!.
Warning(s)-Slight smut, Daddy kink mention.
Credits: Gifs by @muffinsbasket, dividers by @uzmacchiato , Text photo from Pinterest.
Summary: When you tease Roman, he makes sure to get you back.
When you deny Roman of sex due to not being in the mood or having your period, your man goes into a bit of a frenzy. He gets real grumpy, sexually frustrated and makes it his mission to get back at you by being extra petty. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you but he also respects your decision especially when you're on your monthly but that won't stop him from getting back at you. Roman loves to tease you at home but he finds it more thrilling when he puts on a show for you at a live event with you sitting front row and center. He doesn't need to look at you to know that you're watching his every move.
Currently, from the time he made his entrance to the time he gets in that ring, your eyes are glued to him. When he takes a quick glimpse at you, he smiles to himself and decides to put his plan into action. After throwing his ones up to the sky, he smirks to himself and brings his other hand down to cup his thick cock through his pants as he lifts his right leg up to get inside the ring. You gasp in shock as soon as you saw that little motion he just did with his hand. It wasn't just a coincidence; no, no, no, he was deliberately teasing you. You guess you deserved it because even though it was that time of the month for you, you still managed to tease him earlier in the day by leading a heavy makeout session and riling him up to then reaching your hand inside his pants to rub his meaty cock until precum started to ooze out from the tip. As you now sit here watching Roman looking at you and sending a cheeky smirk your way, you can't help but feel flustered. You couldn't wait for your period to finish. You were hungry for your man, and you couldn't wait to jump on him as soon as you could. Your mouth watered just thinking about how sore your jaw would be after having him shove his cock inside your mouth repeatedly; you felt your pussy pulsate and your ass throb at the thought of both his tongue and fingers filling both holes until you felt completely stuffed. On top of that, you knew his delicious cock would ravage all of your holes until he completely wore you out.
"I can't wait to have you buried deep inside my holes, daddy," you found yourself muttering as you watched him own that ring like he always did.
A/N: I'm gonna miss these two. Shout out to my bestie for the fire renders of them in their wedding gear. Thank you all so much for reading 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
Finale: Part 1
Maranello, Italy
Lewis’s eyes found Kamiya lurking behind the camera. Her larger than life curls had been tamed into a sleek & elegant bun with dazzling gold hairpins pinning her bangs back. “Look this way, my love.” Kamiya spoke, her hand leading his eyes to where she wanted. She winked and he smiled slightly, perfectly. “Thank you Lewis. Ms. Dawkins, please step in front of the f40.” The photographer spoke in his thick Italian accent. “No, this is his moment.” Kamiya smiled. “You are part of the Ferrari family too.” The man smiled. Lewis grabbed Kamiya’s hand and pulled her close to him. “Why not let everyone see how stunning you look, Mrs. Hamilton?” Lewis growled playfully against her ear.
His wedding ring casually graced his left ring finger. He had been wearing it on his right ring finger since that rainy day in New York where he said yes to forever with her. Only their families and their closest friends knew, the rest of the world would find out a whole year later. Lewis wrapped his arm around her waist, his free hand holding hers against the crisp black lapel of his suit. A soft smile tugged at his lips as his forehead rested against hers. “Aww, bellisima! Grazie.” The photographer beamed as he snapped a few shots. They had been photographed together enough to know exactly when to move. “Lady Hamilton, this dress fits you like a glove. I may have to have words with your tailor because…wow.” Lewis smiled. “So this is your dream car, huh? Is this the one they used in Miami Vice?” She smiled. “No, my love. It was a Ferrari but that was a Testarossa. Great eye.” Lewis smiled, breaking protocol to kiss her lips. The blast of shutter clicks was immediate. “I'm gonna go so you can finish your photoshoot.” Kamiya smiled as she pulled away and left the frame.
Kamiya found herself walking around in the garden filled with every beautiful red flower they could find to grow in this part of Italy. “You should be wearing red too, you'd blend right in with the beauty of the space.” An accented voice laughed. “Flattery won't get you anywhere with me, Fred.” Kamiya laughed as the Team Principal Fred Vasseur approached her. “It was worth a try. Is he still off taking pictures?” The man asked. “Yes, 15 minutes has turned into 35.” She laughed. “He'll catch up.” Fred smiled as he hooked his arm in Kamiya’s and walked with her to the private reception area where a welcome lunch was being prepared.
Budapest, Hungary
August 2025
“Can we please just get the fuck out of here?” Kamiya grumbled. “I have to do 2 days at Maranello before I can focus fully on the wedding.” Lewis sighed as he slumped down into the backseat of the maroon Purosangue they were riding in. Lewis’s first season at Ferrari was anything but smooth. He hated the car, Kamiya hated the talk that he had lost it and needed to retire. “I hate that place. It’s stealing the joy from your eyes and I don’t like that.” she grumbled, his head resting on her shoulder. “I miss him so much.” Lewis sighed, his fingertips circling the tattooed pawprint on Kamiya’s wrist with the words “Roscoe Forever” around it. “I do too, our sweet baby.” she sighed sadly. “Pele misses him too.” Lewis sighed, just wanting to get home to their other fur son. “He’s started laying on me…anytime I’m on the couch.” Lewis grumbled. “He’s soothing you. He did it whenever I got injured. He did it when I lost the baby. And when we broke up. When I sat and watched the team take the pitch without me for the first time in years. He’s an empathic dog.” Kamiya laughed. “I know the plan was to have them both at the altar with us. Then when we lost Roscoe, we changed our minds. But I think I’d like to see Pele walking with you. He’s such a huge part of our story.” Lewis sighed. “I think he should walk down the aisle before me. We’ll figure something out. Rest your eyes, my love.” Kamiya sighed as they completed the ride to the airport.
Lake Como, Italy
“Do you think Toto and Susie are coming?” Kamiya asked as they sat together overlooking the lake. “Yes, Toto said that they wouldn't miss it. They may fly in that morning, along with George and Carmen and maybe Bono and his wife.” Lewis smiled as he sipped his mint tea. “I miss them. I mean…don't get me wrong, I love Fred but Mercedes is family. I know you invited Ricky but I want to drown him in the fuckin’ lake! Don't even get me started on Charles. I don't know if I like him yet.” Kamiya grumbled. “Charles isn't that bad. A little pretentious but he’s the Ferrari Golden Boy, I kinda get it. I was that but in a Mercedes when we met.” Lewis laughed. “You would know better than I would. I dunno, I feel out of place with the other WAGs.” Kamiya shrugged. “You’re different…special. I don’t want to say better but…superior in every way imaginable. You aren’t seeking the spotlight or trying to be any type of influencer like the rest of them. You’re just…Kam.” he smiled, planting a kiss on her hand. “I got my notoriety out of the mud on my own. My man never helped me achieve anything in my field. I'm self made.” Kamiya laughed. “Damn right!” He smiled. “How shall we spend our anniversary before we get bombarded with wedding stuff?” she asked, their first guests: Bruno & Veronica due to arrive in the evening. “Well…we did just eat this massive breakfast and we have custom clothing to fit into in a few days.” he hinted. “So…horizontal cardio? We need to walk around a bit first.” Kamiya smiled, grabbing his hand and leading him away from the balcony. The walk around where their wedding would be taking place in a few days ended faster than Kamiya planned.
“We can just walk back to the room, mi amor.” Lewis growled, his lips kissing her hand. “I can't wait for you to see this addition to the ring. It's so sick babe.” Lewis smiled. “I'm excited. And I can't wait until all this is over. Pretending like we aren't already married has been exhausting.” Kamiya sighed. “I know. I want to shout it from the mountaintops!” Lewis groaned. Kamiya tapped her keycard to take them back into their suite. “And in a few days…you can go to the top of the Dolomites and proclaim your love for me.” she laughed. “As you wish, my Queen. Ooh, let’s have a movie day. We can order some snacks to the room, maybe some pineapple…I need you…sweeter than you already are.” he growled, his lips kissing hers as they fell into the plush couch.
“Why are you still so insatiable?” Kamiya growled as his hands smoothed across her skin under her top. “I've tried many drugs but you’re my favorite.” Lewis growled, his lips finding the special spot on her neck that made her shiver. “I'm your favorite drug? You already have me, love. No need to keep sweet talking me.” Kamiya giggled as her hands held him close. “I'll always sweet talk you. And I'll always flirt with you.” he smiled, his fingertips brushing across her nipples until she moaned out. “Take your clothes off.” he commanded softly. Kamiya obliged and removed her clothes and laid back on the couch.
“Damn, you're beautiful. And all mine.” Lewis growled before he removed all of his clothing too. His thick length rested between his thighs as he took a hardened nipple into his mouth. He sucked softly until a whimper fell from her lips. “Think they'll charge us extra to clean the couch?” He laughed as he repeated the ritual on her other nipple. “I'm sure of it. Fuckkk. That feels incredible, baby.” Kamiya moaned as she felt an orgasm churning to life in her belly. “Your husband knows what you like.” Lewis smiled as he pushed her thighs apart. Kamiya’s eyes rolled back as he pushed into her slowly until their hips met. Her bottom lip tugged between her teeth. “I love you.” She breathed as her body settled around him. “I know, love. I know.” He breathed as his hips started to roll against hers.
Kamiya shifted her hips, allowing him to slide in a bit deeper. His eyes watched her slowly come undone. She reached up and pulled the neat bun from his fresh twists, she adored when he wasn't so polished and refined. “There’s my baby. So pretty.” She smiled until his thick tip slammed into her deepest spot. Kamiya’s mouth dropped open in a mix of shock and pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back. “Eyes on me, darling. You're almost there.” Lewis growled, his own ending rising to the surface. The echoes of their bodies colliding rolled around the suite as seconds of bliss felt like hours. 90 minutes or 305 kilometers flew by but their time together moved slowly yet never seemed like enough.
Kamiya pulled his lips to hers, kissing him hungrily. “My wife is pure perfection.” Lewis smiled as his big ending erupted from him. “Sweet talking me while stuffing me like a Twinkie? Sir Lewis, what are you up to?” she giggled as her orgasm tingled in her core. “Feeding your praise kink, my love. You deserve to be worshipped just like this.” He moaned out, his hips finding a new rhythm. It was perfect and seconds passed before her body began to grip around him. “Give it to me…please.” he whimpered as he got lost in the experience of her body. Kamiya’s body vibrated as her orgasm consumed her. His name rolling from her lips pulled Lewis further into his happy place. Lewis kept stroking her through her aftershocks until her hands pushed at his hips. “Don’t run from me.” he cooed, his thumb brushing softly across her clit until she started to squirt. “My favorite part.” he laughed, kissing her lips as she came down. “I can't believe that we've been married for almost a year.”
“When we said ‘I do’ a year ago,” Kamiya spoke, a chorus of surprised gasps rolling across the garden. “I never realized how organic it would feel. We've accomplished so much on our own but taking on the world as husband and wife has been my favorite part. It hasn't always been roses but the thorns are something we've always tackled together and you know I love a good tackle.” The crowd laughed, Lewis smiled. “Not that I needed you to complete me but I'm glad that our paths crossed on the beach. I love you until the end of time.” Kamiya smiled, tears in her eyes.
“Let me start by saying, God Bless Texas.” Lewis winked, Kamiya laughed. “Kamiya, I knew from the moment we met that you were my forever. I'm the best version of myself when I'm with you. I hope that I continue to be worthy of you, darling. One year down, forever to go. Obviously, my lovely wife has a way better way with words than I do, but you all get the point. Happy Anniversary Kamiya. I love you.” Lewis smiled. “I now pronounce you…man kiss your wife!”
“Pele, you have to stay on shore, buddy.” Lewis smiled as the photographer snapped pictures. The dog pouted up at Kamiya. “Who’s my handsome boy?!” She giggled to the excited Rottweiler as he scampered around her dress. At Lewis’s request, the photographer got some great shots of Kamiya and her loyal companion. Lewis wanted to make sure that she had as many printed memories of Pele that he had of Roscoe. “Go see Dad. He's got treats for you. I'll be back. Be good.” She commanded. The dog nodded and walked off in a bowtie that matched Lewis’s jacket. “You ready to be on the cover of Vogue, my love?” Lewis smiled as he helped Kamiya down into the boat.
“I'm nervous. It's not often that I share the spotlight with an actual model.” She teased. “You've been on the cover of The Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue! I bought every copy I could find! I also love your Women's Health spreads too. I'm actually a huge fan of your work.” Lewis smiled as they settled onto the seat. “No, you are an obsessed fan. You have it framed and autographed in every home you own! You have the pullout poster framed as art in your master bathroom.” Kamiya teased as the luxury boat pulled away from the dock. “You have an autographed picture in our bedroom in Texas!” Lewis laughed. “That’s different! I took the picture, developed and printed it myself! And…Theee Lewis Hamilton in a cowboy hat, shirtless on a horse in Texas? I was living the dream. I am living the dream…with my dream guy.” Kamiya smiled.
“Kamiya, look this way.” The photographer spoke. As she looked at the camera, Lewis looked at her, his eyes filled with adoration. “You're divine, a vision. My angel. My dream. The things I'll do to you once I get you alone.” Lewis growled, his face tucked perfectly into her neck. “That’s it. The perfect shot.”
Loose grin. Heavy eyes. Chains swinging against his chest while he laughed too loud at his brother’s jokes.
Wrestlemania weekend was packed with people.
He loved it.
The noise. The chaos. The attention.
But the second he walked into the strip club, all that faded into the background.
Because she stepped onstage.
Alana moved slow under red lights, body rolling perfectly with the beat while money rained near the pole. She had this look on her face too calm, almost bored which somehow made her even hotter.
Jimmy sat back in the booth staring shamelessly.
Jey noticed instantly.
“Oh nah,” he laughed. “You cooked.”
Jimmy ignored him.
Alana’s eyes swept across the room once before landing on Jimmy.
And staying there.
Big mistake.
Jimmy smiled immediately, tipping his drink toward her like they already knew each other.
By the end of her set, she walked over to their section.
“Y’all behaving over here?” she asked.
Jimmy leaned back, looking her up and down slowly. “I was till you came over.”
Alana snorted. “That sounded rehearsed.”
“Nah,” he said easily. “If it was rehearsed it would’ve been smoother.”
“You think you smooth?”
“I know I am.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Damn.
He had one of those smiles.
The dangerous kind.
“You buying a dance or wasting my time?” she asked.
Jimmy pulled out a stack of cash. “Depends. You worth it?”
Alana raised an eyebrow. “Careful. I charge extra for attitudes.”
“Good thing I got money then.”
Cocky.
Too cocky.
But funny enough to get away with it.
She grabbed his chin lightly, turning his face side to side dramatically. “Hmm. You cute. I guess.”
Jimmy grinned. “That all I get?”
“For now.”
She took his hand and led him toward VIP.
The room was darker back there, music muffled just enough to hear each other breathe. Jimmy dropped onto the couch, spreading one arm across the back while Alana stood between his knees.
“You nervous?” she teased.
Jimmy looked her dead in the eye. “Baby, you should be nervous.”
Heat climbed up her neck instantly.
Lord.
The music slowed.
Alana started dancing, hands sliding over his shoulders while Jimmy watched her like he forgot every other person in the building existed.
Most men touched too much.
Talked too much.
Jimmy just watched.
Like he liked the teasing.
“You real quiet,” she said softly.
“I’m thinkin’.”
“In the strip club?”
“You got that effect on me”
She rolled her hips slower against him and Jimmy exhaled hard, eyes shutting for a second.
“You tryna show off now,” he muttered.
“You noticed?”
“Hard not to.”
His hands settled carefully on her waist, warm and steady.
“You always this nice to customers?” he asked.
“You always this flirty with strippers?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. “At least you honest.”
Jimmy tilted his head. “You want me to lie?”
“I want you to stop looking at me like that.”
“How I’m lookin’ at you?” He licked his lips and then smirked.
Alana paused.
She recovered fast. “Like you think this gonna end with my number in your phone.”
Jimmy smirked. “Not my fault you seem interested.”
“In myself? Absolutely.”
“Nah,” he said, voice dropping lower. “In me.”
Her stomach flipped stupidly.
She hated that.
The song ended but neither of them moved right away.
Jimmy stared up at her for a long second before speaking again.
“Come chill with me after work.”
There it was.
Alana stepped back immediately. “Mm-mm.”
“Why not?”
“Because I work here.”
“And?”
“And dancers don’t leave with customers.”
Jimmy leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You callin’ me a customer hurt my feelings a little.”
She laughed. “You’ll survive.”
“Not if you keep walkin’ away lookin’ like that.”
Jesus.
Every sentence out his mouth sounded illegal.
“You say this stuff to every girl?”
“Nah.” Jimmy looked her over slowly. “Most girls ain’t you.”
For a second she forgot how to respond.
That never happened.
She cleared her throat quickly. “Dance over.”
“Cold.”
“You’ll live.”
Jimmy caught her wrist before she could walk off completely.
Not rough.
Just enough.
Alana looked down at his hand, then back at him.
“You drunk,” she said quietly.
Jimmy smiled without missing a beat. “I’m tipsy.”
Her shift ended an hour later.
And somehow Jimmy was STILL there.
Same booth.
Same drink.
Same eyes following her across the room.
“You ain’t leave yet?” she asked while grabbing her bag.
Jimmy stood slowly. “Told you I was waitin’.”
“For what?”
He stepped closer. “You.”
The tension hit her all over again instantly.
Close up, he smelled incredible. Expensive cologne mixed with whiskey and something warm she couldn’t describe.
“You really don’t quit,” she muttered.
“Should I?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t want me to.”
Unfortunately true.
Alana hated how easy he made this feel.
Jimmy looked down at her lips for half a second before meeting her eyes again.
“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he murmured, “I’ma think you want somethin’.”
“Oh please.”
“What? I’m wrong?”
She opened her mouth to argue—
and Jimmy kissed her.
Smooth.
Slow.
Like he already knew she was gonna kiss him back.
And she did.
Immediately.
Her hands grabbed his shirt while his hand slid against her jaw, kissing her deeper until her thoughts completely disappeared.
The whole club faded out.
By the time they pulled apart, Alana looked genuinely horrified with herself.
“Oh my God.”
Jimmy laughed softly, forehead resting against hers. “That bad?”
“Yes!”
“Couldn’t tell.”
“That was so unprofessional.”
“You sayin’ that while still holdin’ onto me.”
She realized her hands were still gripping his shirt and shoved him away fast.
Jimmy just grinned wider.
“I hate you,” she muttered.
“Nah,” he said smoothly. “You like me too much already.”
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