Synopsis: One night, that's all it took for Josh and India to fall for each other. One night was all it took for her life to turn upside down. She thought she had found the one. Then he had told her the truth... he had someone waiting for him... someone whom he had betrayed to be with India.
warnings: cheating, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of abortion, characters being toxic (more to be added as chapters are posted.)
SYNOPSIS𑁤 for the past few years, karina's prayer has been simple. to meet a nice man, settle down, and start a family. she thought she'd found that. maybe she has. if only she knew beforehand that the devil answers prayers, too.
WARNINGS𑁤 dark romance. unhealthy relationship dynamics to the max. unhealthy attachment. toxicity through and through. stalking. topics pertaining to mental health struggles. smut. unprotected sex. multiple positions. breeding kink. digital penetration. oral (f receiving). blink and you miss it ass play. rough sex. dubious consent.
WORDS𑁤 eight thousand, eight hundred, and some change (8k+)
PAIRING𑁤 obsessed!romanreigns x chubby!blackoc
CREDIT𑁤 photos from pinterest and twitter. title graphic by me. heart dividers by @enchanthings and mdni banner by @oseschoices
SONG INSPO𑁤 ❝every breath you take❞ by the police
AUTHOR’S NOTE𑁤 if you're new around here, this is based off a set of asks i've answered over the past few months. this weekend was horrible for me mental health wise, so i just opened a doc, and this is what we got....idek, man. also, may this kind of "love" never find any of you, and if it does, call the swat team or the cia. try to put him in rice. idk.
The soft glow of the crescent moon outside is set against the onyx blanket of night, riddled with glimmering stars that pulse and beam. The faint humming of the AC unit is set against the TV that’s set at a volume low enough to where its audible for her to hear, but in the grand scheme of things, it's truly nothing more than background noise for the chaos and commotion that is her head.
Karina rolls onto her back and closes her eyes. Her hands run over the soft, dark sheets, the smooth, cool touch under her fingertips and short nails reminding her of the fact that she recently changed her bedding. A usual task, but one that was done for reasons other than what has been the case for the past almost two years.
It brings a frown to her face, the way her hand is able to explore the span of her queen sized bed, met with nothing more then 300 thread count instead of something else, someone else, the absence making her fingers flex and itch.
The decision to leave her phone, screen up, on the dresser, and across the room was an intentional one. As was her ensuring that the phone was right side up. The glow of a notification illuminating just enough in the dark of the room to inform her when an alert has arrived. Twice now she’s been able to resist temptation, but it’s the third spotlight that diverts her focus from the TV and has her reconsidering.
She’d set an intention for herself. Surrounded herself with nothing but reminders, colorful sticky notes covering half of the anchored mirror in her bathroom and a notepad sitting on her nightstand with all of the reasons. Reminders to stand strong and firm, but for each item she can recount on said list, it’s just as easy for her to create counterpoints.
Her brain and heart at battle with neither willing to concede anytime soon.
It deepens her frown and the weight in her chest that’s only grown heavy over the past two days since she sent her text and silenced his notifications.
But the heart has a way of finessing autonomous control, creeping in and taking over without one even realizing it. Karina is reminded of such when she’s only a few inches away from her dresser, hand reaching for her phone that’s gone dark, the time of lighting from the most recent notification long past.
She stops herself and stares at the screen for longer than she’d like to admit. Wills herself to close her eyes and instead shakes her head.
“I can do this,” she whispers. Hand scrunching her short, silk nightgown, she turns to climb back into bed, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV.
She needs to try to get some sleep.
But Karina also knows that her brain won’t allow her such joy, thus her getting up once more, this time to head to the kitchen and grab a melatonin. She hasn’t slept well all week, and with tomorrow being Saturday, thus her day off, Karina fully intends to take advantage of her clear schedule.
At least she did, because all actions are halted when she hits the switch to light up the hallway and finds a partially unexpected detour right outside of the kitchen.
She stands still, completely unmoving, eyes never ripping from the sight before her.
“What are you doing here, Roman?”
Once upon a time, her initial question would be a different one. Less of the what and more of the how. How for every attempt she made to draw the line in the sand between them, he always seemed to find a way to bypass said line before she could even complete it.
It started off with little things. The type of gestures that make women swoon and sigh. Flowers sent to her job once a week, to the point where the staff, even Dr. Green, had made a joking comment in between patients about Karina scoring a “good” one. Calls at the start of her day while she moved around her bathroom and room getting ready for work only to be repeated later in the evening as she laid in bed, sometimes on FaceTime with him until she fell asleep and only awoke in the middle of the night to her phone at less then 50%.
He always wanted to see and be around her. Even on days where she was physically drained, cramping, or just not feeling well and decided to skip the gym. Despite her many protests that she was fine, he’d still show up at her apartment, often wielding a host of “get well soon” supplies that consisted of all her favorites. Things she’d mentioned as far back as the impromptu lunch they shared together on the first day they met. Roman didn’t forget anything. To the point where it seemed almost abnormal, if not impossible.
He’d later share that through several routine evaluations while in the military, it’d been said he most likely has Hyperthymesia. She can still recall the way his mouth curved into a small smile at the confused look on her face.
“Most people call it photographic memory,” he explained. “Once I see, read, or even hear something, I never forget it.” His thumb brushed over her hand as they sat at a table tucked in the corner of the restaurant, an old Fleetwood Mac tune serving as background noise. Something twinkled in his eyes that made her stomach flip as his voice dipped but his enunciation never more clear. “I don’t forget anything.”
And he doesn’t.
She thought it impressive, felt deeply moved at how he’d, regardless of it simply being the way his brain is wired, never allowed any opportunity to be missed where he could show her how attentive he was.
How much he cared.
From ensuring the delivery of her favorite variation of flowers—roses, tulips, and forget-me-nots—to tracking down the vinyls, items collected since childhood, that she’d been searching for high and low since childhood.
He seemed to make the impossible possible, even if she hadn’t asked him to. She didn’t ask him to do much at all. He just did.
And she appreciated it.
What she gradually started to not appreciate, however, were….other things.
Growing up in Virginia Beach meant there was no shortage of military men, some of which she’d briefly but never seriously entertained. Mostly in her early twenties. Thus, Roman having a bit of a temper didn’t shock her. She expected it. So long as, one, it was never aimed towards her, and two, that he could control it. That first part has never been an issue. The second part though….not so much.
She’d understood it the first time she saw it. A group of silly, young high school boys who’d nearly knocked her over while skateboarding on the board walk. Their scoff and dismissal of Roman’s gruff “watch it” resulting in him snatching up one of the boys by his collar. Barking at him to apologize to Karina.
That was fine.
But then a couple days later, Karina arrived at the gym a little earlier than planned and opted to not wait for Roman. In the midst of grabbing a set of weights, she’d been shocked to find some overly tanned, Jersey Shore extra douche bag had moved her bag to the side, along with her phone and water bottle that were sitting on the bench, and claimed it as his own.
Naturally, she’d tried to confront him about it, but he simply looked her over, scoffed and made a smartass comment about her hitting the treadmill instead. Karina was fully prepared to report him to the staff when out of nowhere came Roman. He’d yanked the bastard up so quickly, shoved him into the mirrored wall, and punched him so hard that the sickening crunch sound of his nose breaking was the only thing that broke her from the shock.
Karina reached for Roman’s wrist, instantly noticing how the enraged expression on his face melted almost immediately when her eyes locked with his. It was as if her single touch dragged him from 100 all the way back down to 0.
She’d been so nervous that he was going to get fired over what occurred, but it only resulted in a slap on the wrist and a ban for the man who learned very quickly, as the kids say these days, what FAFO really means.
But while Karina appreciated Roman defending her, as they laid in bed that night, sheets damp and clinging to their slick bodies, she attempted to talk to him.
Tried to explain that as nice as it was to have him feel so strongly about defending her, he didn’t have to. That she didn’t want him to end up getting himself into trouble one way or another because of her.
He wasn’t necessarily defensive, but he definitely was standing ten toes down on his commitment to defend her.
To her.
It was commitment that she would soon realize extended to areas and in ways she could have never anticipated.
He’s sitting on her sofa, legs spread, hands clasped together. Black hoodie, dark shorts, and his hair pulled back. Roman has always looked slightly older than his actual age, but in a way that works. Rugged yet handsome looks that few could pull off. He could.
He does.
Karina can’t, however, ignore the way she can tell he hasn’t been sleeping well. The darkness under his eyes confirm as much. For a moment, she feels bad, especially when she catches the glimpse of thin silver around his thick neck, his dog tags resting perfectly between his tatted chest.
She licks her lips, fully aware of the fact that he typically wears them when haunted by memories he can’t forget and a past she only knows bits and pieces about. Just that he joined the military when he was eighteen, him and his two closest friends. Mox and Seth.
That Roman eventually flew back stateside a number of years later, seat upgraded to First Class when it was learned he’d served. An announcement over the PA regarding said service and a round of applause to thank him for his service.
He returned home to fanfare.
But his two closest friends returned home in boxes with flags draped over their coffins that their family members sobbed over with unconsolable grief.
Karina would guess that Roman has some form of PTSD. He has to. No one serves in any form of the military, deploys overseas, experiences combat, and comes back the same person they were when they left. He carries scars she’ll never see, and it’s part of why she’s always done her best to be understanding. To be gentle and considerate with his struggles.
It's also why she suddenly is regretting initiating their most recent break.
Even if she knows it’s for the best.
“I miss you,” he finally answers. She closes her eyes and looks down, digging her toes into the soft, cream carpet.
I miss you, too.
Words she won’t allow herself to share aloud and instead forces herself to remember why she initiated said break following yet another one of his outbursts. She can hear the sirens, the flash of red, white, and blue cast against her face. The way she hugged herself as she gave her statement to one officer, the other talking to Roman who leaned against the patrol car with cavalier indifference. With a similair stance and not an ounce of concern or regret for the man who sat outside the ambulance, his busted lip, broken nose, and swollen eye being tended to by paramedics.
Karina knew he’d get off. A combat vet with enigmatic charisma and connections to law enforcement she still doesn’t fully understand. What would get most arrested or taken in always results in a slap on the wrist. It’s somewhat part of the culture in the 757. NAS Oceana and Training Support Center Hampton Roads, both located in Virginia Beach, are the largest bases of their kind in the world. The military have always received special treatment. She’d seen it with the two Navy guys she briefly dated before Roman, but never to the extent seen with Roman.
Like the time she decided to bite the bullet and attempt to file a restraining order against him, only for the cop who took the report ending up being someone Roman knew. An old friend from bootcamp.
A friend who tipped him off.
To this day, she hasn’t a clue what happened to said report.
It felt unheard of.
Though, to be fair, there’s very little she hadn’t seen or experienced before.
Since Roman Reigns entered her life.
Karina can still recall the day she stepped foot into the gym for the first time in years. The last time she’d attended was for a group class her friends talked her into attending. Hot Yoga.
She wasn't a fan.
It was the first and last time she’d allowed her car to pull into the parking lot that was always full no matter what time of day she drove past it. An unavoidable passing no matter which route she drove to work. But each time she sat at the light, only a turn away from ending her unspoken sabbatical, fingers tapping against her bedazzled steering wheel, she thought about it.
Thought about breaking her years long streak of avoiding what she always seemed to put off. It wasn’t even that she felt the need to lose weight. That she even wanted to. Years of hard work devoted to learning to love and embrace the curves she used to try to conceal with oversized hoodies and black stretch pants just to avoid the rolls caused by the skinny jeans all of her peers wore almost exclusively. Of realizing that not all bodies were meant to look the same. Karina came to recognize that her beauty never was and never will be dictated by the number on the scale. Let alone some outdated standard—like BMI—that was never meant to represent or factor in diversity.
She might not love her body all of the time, but she loves it most of the time, and that’s what matters most.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t get in the habit of moving her body in a way that’s overall healthy and good for her. To feel good, because being freshly thirty with no kids yet and no potential prospects anywhere in sight, the disappointment was starting to set in. Disappointment she could tell was only a few more lonely nights away from morphing into depression.
Karina knew she had to make a change.
And so she laid in bed at night, scrolling through fitness videos from women who looked like her. Who proudly showed off their stretch marks and tummies that could jiggle instead of the textbook “skinny” fitness gurus she’d once idolized and prayed to look like one day as a naive preteen who didn’t know any better.
Karina even challenged herself to start off with beyond the basic thirty minute walk on the treadmill. It was part of the routine she’d put together based on almost two weeks of studying and research. But it wasn’t the most important thing. What was most important was walking past the row of treadmills, ellipticals, and other cardio based machines. It was blowing out a big breath and popping the strap of her bright orange sports bra that matched with the high waisted, tummy control and booty scrunch leggings. An two piece set that was minimally beyond her comfort zone but also the perfect outfit to test and stretch said comfort zone.
Karina popped in her pink ear buds before she got out the car, already had her curated workout playlist that’d started off with Bodak Yellow, and found that Jesus still answers prayer when she was able to land an empty bench not in use. A woman with headphones and long blonde hair she had pulled into a tight ponytail was Karina’s silent neighbor. It didn’t bother her though. She preferred the silence. It allowed her to focus on recalling the specific order in the set she’d studied and committed to memory.
Memorization felt like an insurance policy to avoid unintentional embarrassment.
Or injury.
And three songs in, the confidence arose in tandem with each slow, steady raise of the free weights in her hand. She felt good. She felt strong.
She was also doing it wrong.
Karina had as much confirmed when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She’d briefly dropped the weights to reply to a text from her mom, thus her head being down and not allowing her to see him approaching through the mirrored wall. Not that it would have made much of a difference. Her reaction would have been the same regardless.
It was hard for her to hone in on the specifics of what initially drew her in. Having to look up to meet his warm, hazel eyes and the soft, crooked smile on his handsome face. Full lips pulled back just enough to reveal a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. The way his massive body almost entirely eclipsed hers. The tight, black Under Armor muscle shirt clinging to every defined, hard, sculpted muscle on his body. And that were plenty. Intricate tattoos wrapped around both arms, and, as she would later find out, his chest as well. Karina was in the middle of removing her ear bud and roving her eyes over what was easily the most attractive man she’d ever seen when he upped the ante and chuckled.
“Sorry to bother you.” There was no denying the somersaults in her stomach at the sound of his smooth, deep voice. Tall, fine, and he had a sexy ass voice? Yeah…never a bother. Ever. “And I hate to be that guy, but…” The way he trailed off, the subtle movement of his jaw, and his tongue flicking against the hood of his mouth should not have made her thighs press together. “Your form is a little off.” And because having a perfect appearance and panty soaking voice wasn’t enough, he had to set the bar impossibly higher with a dash of flattery. “You’re doing great for a beginner though.”
Sincere or not, it was an effective add-on that also made her chuckle and nervously roll her eyes. “That obvious?”
Of course it was. This man looks like he lives, breathes, and eats the gym for a living. Far from a small gal, it's ridiculous how he towers over her in height and width. Nothing but pure muscle and brute strength wrapped around a solid frame. If there was anyone who would be able to point out someone clearly new at this, it would be him.
So much for doing a good job.
“Naw. Your form isn’t what made me notice you.” His smile softens, his eyes gleaming and twinkling with something that made her chest tighten. “It’s just what gave me an excuse to talk to you.”
And just like that, the tension eased, her smile revived with the same ease his smooth reply rolled off his tongue.
She offered her hand. “Karina.”
His gaze dipped down, Karina instantly overcome with a sense of warmth at the way his much larger hand eclipsed hers. Fully aware of the stroke of his thumb across her knuckles.
“Roman.”
Formal introductions led into a shared workout of sorts, even if he spent majority of the time helping and instructing her vs actually getting his own workout in. Naturally, one thing led to another, and she accepted his offer to join him for lunch.
She learned a lot that day. Learned that he was new in town and still had a few unopened boxes sitting around his house despite being moved in for over a month. That he’d recently accepted a job at the gym as a personal trainer after almost twenty years in the military. He didn’t say what branch or specify what exactly he did, and she didn’t ask. Something told her, however, in the way his eyes temporarily dropped to the table they sat at, that it was beyond just a desk job.
She guessed that he had combat experience and left it at that.
They must have sat at that restaurant for over an hour, and not once did the flow of the conversation stall. It continued to flow as naturally and organically as the smile that remained on her face the entire time they conversed. Even as he walked her to her car, palm on the hood of vehicle, eyes on her as she typed her number into his phone.
It was there in the parking lot as well, as he twisted a tendril of her dark coils between his long, thick fingers that she absolutely did not imagine elsewhere on—or in—her body, that he issued his proposal.
Offered to train her.
To be her personal trainer.
It, like him, took her by surprise. She decided to start implementing the gym into her life for solely self-care and maintenance purposes. She wasn’t looking to lose weight or to do anything to change how her body looked. She’d worked too hard to learn to embrace and love her curves to risk falling back into dangerous “thinspo” mindset and was thus ready to politely decline.
But then he brushed his rough, callous thumb across her cheek and offered to do it on his own time. Off the clock and without the need for her to modify her membership to include the training. Suggested a trade of sorts where in exchange for his training, she could help him learn his way around town. Like the small mom and pops restaurant on the corner of Independence and across the street from Greenbrier mall where they’d sat at for God knows how long.
And suddenly, it felt less like a step back and more of a step forward in the right direction. Like she’d finally figured out and landed on the best route to pursue.
So she accepted.
Karina sometimes believes that to be the day she sealed her fate, and if not that, then most definitely the night of their first, official date. He’d scored dinner reservations at Ruth Chris where they sat, like most of their outings outside of the gym, for a minimum of an hour. Long after meals were finished, and even then, she’d made it a habit of sorts to pick locations close to the beach. So they could walk the boardwalk together. Sometimes even along the grainy sand where she’d slide off her shoes and hold up the bottom of her skirt or dress to avoid the gentle waves that kissed the space where water met land.
It all culminated to that moment she reached for him as he turned to leave. After walking her to her door and reminding her to text him when she awoke the next morning, as he always did following one of their outings.
The minute her fingers enclosed around his wrist as he turned to look back at her. Karina was only able to part her lips a few mere centimeters before his hands were on her face, his mouth on hers, and her body on fire. She still hasn’t a clue when exactly the door was shut and locked, but she certainly recalls every single detail of that night.
The way he maneuvered his hand between her thighs, easily sliding her panties to the side as he pumped one, two, and three fingers inside of her until she came all over his hand. The way her lids fluttered watching how he licked them all off in front of her before guiding her to the kitchen where he propped her up on the counter and dropped to his knees. Her hands initially planted on the cool faux granite as he sucked and lapped at her pussy like it was the first and only thing he’d had to eat all day. As she came once more all over his face before they traveled once and then twice more.
By the end of the night, there was barely an inch of her apartment they hadn’t sullied. Clothes strewn all over. The aroma of sex lingering and seeped into the sheets that covered their nude, spent bodies.
It was hands down the best sex she ever had. That was easily one of the many things that had her hooked.
But as amazing as the sex is, it doesn’t and hasn’t overpowered the very many problems that have littered their relationship.
Because as sad as it might be, Roman getting violent and assaulting men who even so much as look at her for too long, has been the least of her worries.
No, those worried come in much larger, problematic forms.
Like the way she’s had to ask management at her apartment complex to change her locks. Twice. Both times having to jump through hoops, dancing around the real reason as to why. Unwilling to say it’s because despite Roman returning the key she’d given him, even after the changes, kept finding his way back into her place. Often already in her kitchen, making dinner for them when she arrives home from work.
Several times he’s welcomed himself into her apartment without her permission.
The Ring camera she put up at his strong recommendation following some stupid teenagers breaking into her apartment? Yeah. Changing the password only does so much. Again, he finds way to access her account.
It’s the way she’s lost count of how many times she’s tried to explain to him why this is all wrong, how he’s not respecting her boundaries, and every time he finds a way to justify his behavior or convinces her that said behavior isn’t as bad as it objectively is.
“I just can’t take you being upset with me, Mina.”
The nickname he’d adopted for her she’d once asked him about given her friends and family have always called her Rina. She couldn’t figure out where the ‘M’ was coming from.
“Because you’re mine,” he’d explained, twisting her coils as they lay in bed together in his place that he always referred to as theirs. Went as far as to already set aside room in his closet for her own stuff. Kept an extra pair of scrubs for her that he’d purchased on his own volition. “My Rina.”
It felt romantic at the time. Now she realizes just how serious he was.
When he said she’s his, he meant it.
Several of his obsessive actions over the almost two years that they’ve been together have all but proved it.
Like the time she attempted to get away from it all, agreeing to an impromptu girls trip with her closest friends down to the Dominican Republic. It was only the third time she’d been out of the country, the first two being with the man she was trying to get away from. Separation to allow for clarity. But changing all her passwords for the umpteenth time and disabling location tracking and sharing didn’t stop Roman from showing up. Sauntering in with all the suaveness at the restaurant she was at with her girlfriends like it was the most normal, romantic thing in the world.
A belief she might have unintentionally reinforced what with her leaving said restaurant and spending the night with him, effectively ending the supposed break they were on at the time.
Actions she got chewed up over from all ends, primarily from what she’s always coined the “Top Tier” of her friend group. Three friends she’s known the longest and hold the closest bonds with, all of whom have always been on varying ends of the spectrum as it pertains to Karina’s relationship with Roman.
Krista has always highlighted the obvious problems but overall expressed support.
Shiva doesn’t allow a week to go by without randomly announcing that she has “dibs” on being godmother and matron of honor.
Avril….Avril just might actually hate Roman. She hasn’t been a fan since the first obsessive incident Karina disclosed. She reminds Karina a lot of her mom. The woman who, as far back as Karina can remember, stressed to her the importance of never letting a man get away with shit. Completely unforgiving and unwilling to acknowledge any minimal or small slight as anything but egregious and intentional, Myra Patton leaves little to no room for shit when it comes to men. It’s why, in Karina’s opinion, her mom has been single for so long.
She understands having strong boundaries, but the scars from Myra’s tumultuous relationship with Lyle, Karina’s absentee/deadbeat dad, run deep and have sworn her mom off all men. Her wall is impossibly high, thus Karina sharing very little with Myra regarding her complicated relationship with Roman.
But then on the other end of the spectrum, there’s Karina’s dad. Hands down the first man in her life to hurt and disappoint her. Karina will never forget sitting on the porch steps with her backpack and suitcase packed. Swatting away flies and ignoring the scorching sun that blared down on her body and made sweat accumulate across her back, forehead, and in all the folds and creases of her body. She’d sometimes sit out there until nightfall and her mom finally forced her to come inside because he wasn’t coming.
He never showed up like he said he would, and by the time Karina hit her teenage years, she stopped expecting and wanting him to. These days, they only communicate on the major holidays and her birthday, where he’ll post on her Facebook timeline. Not even a text or phone call. She prefers it that way though. Is way past the point of yearning for his love.
It does make her wonder though. If the little girl inside of her who always felt neglected by her father and just wanted to feel wanted and desired in conjunction with her mother’s arms length approach and philosophy regarding love is what brought her to where she stands.
Somewhere in the middle unable to let go of Roman’s hand.
Unable to let go of him.
It makes her chest thud as she watches him rise from the sofa. Her mind screams at her to step back. In more than just the physical.
But again, she is paralyzed and consumed by all things him. Her mouth parting and stomach coiling when he’s in front of her. His arm swooping around her back to pull her into him, to continue the drowning she’s incapable of stopping.
Her breath catches in the back of her throat. “Roman….”
“Karina.” Her eyes slam shut as his fingers dig into her skin, thumb caressing the fabric of her gown. His heat travels, the proximity between them both suffocating and not enough. There’s equal desire to lift her hands to his chest and push him away just as much there is to feel the cotton wrinkle under her touch as she pulls him closer. “Baby, I know…I know I need to work on some things.”
“Ro—”
“And I will.” His deep voice is nothing short of pleading as his thumbs continued to ruffle with her gown, each stroke heavier than the one before. Coaxing her to open her eyes, to meet his gaze that she has no doubt reflects the sincerity in his voice. “I’d do anything for you. I love you. You know this.”
It’s at that final statement, however, that she wills her eyes open. Sure enough, he’s staring down at her with nothing short of sincerity and a hint of desperation. Maybe more than a hint.
Karina sighs, hating the way one of the immediate things she takes note of once again is the deepening of the lines around his eyes. The scruff of his beard. Sleep deprivation and lack of maintaining certain aspects of appearance. Two of the first things that always take a hit whenever she attempts to place distance between them. And she hates it. Not that she notices it.
But that she cares.
That she feels bad.
That it makes her want to take his hand and never let go.
Karina swallows, unwilling to let her thoughts betray her. “Then why won’t you give me space when I ask for it?”
How she’s able to issue the question that immediately crossed her mind following his last statement is beyond her. She just knows that she sees what flashes in his warm gaze, the subtle tick of his jaw and the evident delay in his response that indicates he’s thinking.
“Because that’s not what you need. It’s not what we need.” His voice is slow and gentle, as if talking to a child who simply lacks the ability to understand. Far from condescending but easily in the valley of invalidation.
He’s not listening to her.
“Roman—“
“I know what you need, Karina,” he interrupts. Her chest tightens as he ups the ante, traveling his hands up her body, stopping only when his thumb is nestled right under the swell of her big breast. “You need me, baby. Just like I need you.”
Words she’s heard before. Several times over. More than she can count. It should be redundant. Wash, rinse, repeat. And that may be the case, but so is the way her stomach continues to knot and the heat from his body calls to her. Makes her want to lean and melt into him.
Especially when she realizes that her hands have lifted to his chest yet not an inch of her has moved in an effort to shove him away.
“We’re perfect for each other, Mina,” he continues. Karina’s lips part ever so slightly when he dips his head to the crook of her neck. His soft, dark tresses spilling over her chest, the familiar scent of Argan oil from his shampoo has her eyes fluttering shut once more. Her fingers slowly dragging down his chest—solid, defined muscle that instantly evokes sinful memories of how it feels to have her palms braced on him. Using his strong, sturdy body to brace her as she rides him, his deep voice talking her through every step. “Every fucking inch of you was made for me. Made for me to feel. For me to love. For me to touch—”
The knots in her core intensify as does the pulsing and throbbing in between her legs. “Ro—”
“For me to fuck.”
There’s always been something magnetic about Roman. A pull that she’s never been able to resist. The current and riptide that’s unforgiving and unavoidable. And Karina is reminded of as much when he hikes her up on his waist and carries them into her bedroom. With how he carefully lays her down onto the mattress, one knee up on the bed as he climbs over her. All the while her hands never leave the back of his neck, fingers embedded in his loose curls, while his roam and grope every part of her soft, squishy body. Her own mouth parted when he eases his hands up the sides of her thick legs, squeezing and jiggling the meat of her hips.
She’s left panting, chest beating, and a whine sitting at the back of her throat when he kisses the corner of her mouth. Her eyes lock onto his, the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand highlighting his side profile. In the dim room, his eyes darkened and mouth parted similar to her own, he’s never looked more beautiful.
It’s what confuses her sometimes. How something and someone so physically beautiful can also be someone capable of acts so heinous.
Beauty that belies the beast.
Karina licks her lips and reaches for his shirt when he grabs her wrist and kisses her palm. “No one else knows how to love and take care of you like I can,” he murmurs against her burning skin. Heat laps at every inch of her, similar to how he plants a trail of kisses starting with her jaw and continuing downward. “No one can make you happy like I can.”
His words mingle in with the sensations that paralyze her body. Karina manages to hoist her ass up just enough, elbows anchored onto the bed, thus allowing her the perfect view as he sinks to his knees at the end of the bed. He tugs her body towards the edge, Karina falling backwards only to arch upwards almost immediately when he flattens his tongue against her cunt.
“Fuck,” she curses. Her hands are gliding across the mattress as he uses two fingers to spread her slick pussy lips apart, granting and allowing his thick pink tongue greater territory to explore. Thorough and attentive in all the ways, it’s the circular motion he flicks across her swollen clitoris that makes her hand shoot to the top of his head.
He immediately swats it away.
“Stop moving.” The only warning issued as he resumes eating her pussy with fervor, intensity, and precision that has her feeling like she’s only seconds away from her climax. Her thick thighs clamp around his face, locking him in, and it’s way he moans and grips her thighs, hiking them over his broad shoulders, that nearly does her in.
“So good,” he groans. The swipe of his tongue up the length of her, including the gentle probe against her asshole, making her curse once more. “Been in fuckin’ agony without this pussy.”
Karina hates the way her mind immediately shifts towards agreement as he continues to suck and slurp, her juices dripping down onto the bedding that she just changed this morning. She’s lost count of how many packs of sheets and loads of linen only laundry she’s had to complete since the entrance of Roman Reigns into her life.
He is both the source and cause of all messes in her life in every single way.
But it doesn’t prevent her body from inching off the bed just enough to buck into his face creating a loud, squelching sound that fills the room and dances alongside her panting and moaning.
“That’s right,” he coaxes, her pussy contracting around his finger as he begins to pump her in tandem with his oral onslaught. He kisses her clit and sighs. “Always so responsive. I’ve taught you well.”
Another statement she can’t negate. While Roman certainly wasn’t her first time, he has been her first for many other things. Namely just the extent to which he worships her body, the boundaries he’s encouraged her to push and explore. The way he’s helped her to recognize just what her preferences are inside the bedroom. The ability to initiate in ways she never would have before. Gradual introduction to and revelation of kinks she hadn’t even known she had.
The euphoria that is having a man who loves to give just as much as he loves to receive.
He’s helped her recognize that sex should always be mutually beneficial and pleasurable, an accomplishment she’d never had with any prior sexual partners.
Selfish. She’s now realized that they were selfish, and even more, fatphobic. Subtle and minimal in ways she hadn’t exactly caught on at the time.
“I just prefer to be on top.”
“Shower sex is overrated. Trust me.”
“I don’t think that position would really work for us.”
Rejections that she chalked up to personal preference. Now she knows that they were just being assholes.
Weak assholes.
Because the way Roman flips, twists, bends, and everything else under the sun her when it comes to sex more than proved everything she’d mentioned before was more than possible. Just not with them.
But most definitely with him.
That and some more.
A lot more.
All emphasized when in the blurry, hazy aftermath of her orgasm, Karina looks down to see Roman no longer buried between her thighs. He stands at the edge of the bed, naked, bronze skin glistening like the remnants of her essence that drip from his salt and pepper beard down onto his chest. But it’s the way he’s stroking his dick, big hand moving up and down all thick eight inches of turgid muscle, cum leaking from the tip, that has her mouth watering.
Has her pussy pulsing despite the orgasmic aftershocks that have yet to subside.
Her eyes meet his when he starts to hover over her. She reaches to grab him, to bring his mouth back onto hers, when she’s suddenly yanked up and turned over.
“Rom—“
Karina gasps loudly when he slaps her ass, his hands locking onto her hips and forcing her upwards and onto her knees. She moves to look over her shoulder only to gasp once more when she feels his weight atop her and the connection of heat against heat.
Her head drops, eyes shut, and fingers curl into a fist against the mattress. Roman nuzzles the side of her face, inhaling deeply, damp beard transferring her juice onto her cheeks. Karina dips her tongue out to taste the remnants that drip near the corner of her mouth when his grip tightens. She winces at the same moment he chuckles. “Talking about a fucking break.” Karina moans and wiggles her ass against him when Roman slides his dick up and down the length of her wet, sticky pussy lips, collecting her dew to coat his dickhead. “Only fucking break you need, baby girl, is for me to break this pussy back in.”
Words that barely register and matter when in one swift, fluid motion, he enters her.
Karina cries out once more from the mixture of pain and pleasure. She bites down on her bottom lip to the point she’s certain blood has been drawn. Small indents in her pouty pink lips like the ones she’ll no doubt leave alongside his strong shoulders before the end of the night.
If they can make it that far.
Karina winces and attempts to reach back behind her, her body jutting almost violently from the way he’s digging into her. “Baby, wa—wait.”
He ignores her, hands anchored on her fleshy hips, the thought of him staring at the recoil of her juicy ass bouncing off his dick making Karina’s protests falter and her resolve weaken. “Look at how this pussy gripping me.”
His dirty talk, as always, has her milking and dripping all over his cock, the darkened skin of her inner thighs coated with her cream. But as good as he feels inside her, there’s a level of pain and discomfort that’s gradually outweighing the pleasure. The morning after they had sex for the first time, Karina felt like she’d been hit by a fucking truck. Her bones felt heavy, limbs numb and without the ability to function as normally. But it was the throbbing in between her legs, the hiss she emitted out slightly parted lips as he washed her in the shared shower they took afterwards that took the cake.
Had her reaching for and popping an Ibuprofen that typically is only utilized when she’s PMSing or on her period.
Roman easily has the biggest dick out of all her prior sexual partners. The first time she saw it, watched him undo his pants and drop his boxers, dick springing to life with cum already coating the tip, her stomach dropped. Heard the return of words spoken to her by her best friend, Krista, forever ago as they sat on the sofa in her mom’s house one weekend. Each with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and Secret Life of the American Teenager playing on her mom’s new 50inch TV.
“Ya’ know the best thing about being thick bitches?” She started, metal spoon hanging out her mouth as she licked it clean before smiling wryly. “We’ll never get stuck with micro penises. They gotta have enough so it doesn’t fall out while we’re riding it.”
Only eighteen at the time and still a virgin, Karina was mortified.
12 years later, the words have never rang more true.
Karina’s discomfort must somehow register to Roman. His low chuckle manages to make its way to her ears despite the loud, consistent smacking sound of him pounding her out and her headboard slamming into the wall.
If not for the situation, she might tell him to stop simply for the mere fact they already put two holes in the wall; she doesn’t want nor need to add anymore.
He slows down, palming and squeezing her left ass cheek. “See what happens when you deny daddy his pussy?” Karina’s groan is smothered through her closed mouth as his long fingers spread her cheeks, thumb probing against her asshole. Her fingers drag against the sheets once more. “Can barely take this dick, but I know you can.” He slaps her ass again with less force than the previous one, but she quickly realizes it’s only because the intensity has been transferred elsewhere. “Just gotta let me stretch you out again.”
In a matter of seconds, his hand is again knotted in her coils with a grip that would be the cause of her wince if not for the way his left arm swoops around her body. How his forearm locks against her soft belly and pulls her ass up just enough to deepen her arch. How he leans over her body, his heat transferring to hers, and resumes pounding her out.
“Shit!”
“You missed me, didn’t you?” Each thrust of his big dick makes her pussy squelch and tears leak out of her eyes. He feels like he’s in her fucking stomach. So damn deep. So fucking good. “Tell me how much you missed me, Karina. How much you missed this dick.”
“I missed you,” she cries, voice muffled from both her tears and the bedding that has her mouth partially covered. “Missed this dick so much, daddy.”
“Of course you did, sweetheart.” She hates the way his smug tone and breath fanning the shell of her ear that he gently bites on make her want to throw her ass back against him. He can’t be any deeper than he already is, stretching her out just how he said he would, but God, there’s an insatiable door he’s seemed to unlock for her when it comes to sex with him.
It’s indescribable.
“Fuck, Mina. You know how much I love this pussy? How much I love you?” He yanks her head back, her eyes shifting to lock with his. “Acting like you don’t know who the fuck you belong to.” Roman kisses her hard, and she moans into his mouth, any prior resolve and reluctance to waver from the paltry boundaries she tried and failed to set every single time collapsed and defeated the moment he carried her into her bedroom. Perhaps even before that.
He bites down on her bottom lip, making her eyes shoot open to see him staring at her with the same love and lust drunk expression she’s certain is written all over her own face. “I own every inch of you just like you own every bit of me.”
There’s an almost menacing undertone that makes chills shoot up her arched spine, but it’s outweighed by the sweat accumulated in the creases of her rolls and across her forehead. Drowned out with each delicious thrust and grind of his dick inside of her wet pussy.
“Tired of these fucking games.” He growls, snapping his hips in tandem with each punctuated word of ownership. “You. Are. Mine.”
It’s nothing he’s not said before. In every way imaginable. All the iterations and variations. Solidified in the way he brings his hand on top of her left one, fiddling with the diamond on her ring finger. The ring that, despite several breaks since his proposal almost three months ago, she hasn’t removed.
Even after she initially told him she needed time to think, wasn’t sure if she was ready to take such a big step when they clearly have issues to work through. After she returned home that night following their date, twisted and turned until she finally fell asleep. After she awoke to the sound of soft snoring, the feel of a heavy arm across her plush body, and the ring she’d gently handed back to him on her finger.
Again….the ring that hasn’t moved.
She, however, is moved when she comes all over his dick, and Roman’s response is to roll her onto her back, slide his hand up the back of her big thighs and enter her once more. Continuing to fuck her even through the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Her haze is as blurry as the sight of his massive body over hers. She can briefly make out the outline of his lips spreading into a smug smile. “You better save your energy, sweetheart, and let daddy take care of his girl, cause Imma be in this pussy all fucking night.” Her stomach twists from both excitement and apprehension. She has no doubt he absolutely means what he says. She’s never met a man with such a high sex drive. “You’re ovulating. You know what what means, princess?” Her hands move on top of his right one that’s wrapped around her throat. “That means it’s time to put a baby in you.”
Karina's eyes shut once more as she arches her back off the bed, Roman guiding his hand to grope and squeeze her heavy breast. She licks her lips, mouth dry, pussy continuing to be wrecked as he pistons in and out of her.
For some time now, he’s made clear his desire for them to start a family. Indicated he wants to start sooner rather than later given their almost seven year age difference. Karina can’t say she was or even is entirely opposed. It’s just, once again, the order in which these things occur, in her mind, should only be figured out and dictated once they work through the issues that continue to cause these failed breaks she keeps initiating.
Pregnancy, however, is something that might occur sooner or later, problems and Roman’s obsessive behavior be damned.
He already found his way into her Flo app, tracks her cycle and, clearly, her ovulation dates.
She’s not on birth control anymore after briefly restarting once realizing Roman wasn’t going anywhere and sex between them was quickly reaching a point where Plan B’s and the pull out method could only do so much.
But that ended up being an epic disaster and the source of an argument between them when he found the pack in her nightstand drawer.
That was the last time she saw it.
And the last three times she attempted to pick up her refill and get back on track, she’d come home only a few days later to find her them missing.
He popped each and every pill out of the packet and flushed them down the toilet.
She even met with her OB-GYN and scheduled an appointment to get an IUD.
Roman got into her MyChart and canceled the appointment.
Even her last resort of picking up a box of condoms from the drugstore resulted in nothing more than him taking the box, looking at it, and throwing it away in the trash right in front of her.
The last resort's last resort came in the form of Karina convincing herself that she’d get him to start pulling out again as they did when they first got together. But each time resulted in nothing more than Karina wrapping her legs around him tighter, crying and begging for him to come inside her. A request he eagerly and happily obliged to until his cum was leaking out of her swollen pussy.
After that was when she ultimately gave up.
And since then, while she’s not overtly thrilled at the thought of getting pregnant right now, especially while unmarried, the truth is that she’s not entirely opposed either.
A sentiment reinforced when Roman gently caresses her face, ghosting his lips over hers, gently brushing away the tendrils laying against her forehead. “God, you’re gonna look so beautiful carrying our child.”
Visions flash before her now closed eyes. The feel of his hand intertwined with hers, his big body between her spread legs as he travels precious kisses all over her swollen stomach. A small smile on her face as they discuss potential baby names, unopened boxes sitting in the unfinished nursery waiting for them to decorate.
The sort of domestic future she’s always visioned for herself. One that’s never felt more doable and possible until Roman.
Hope swirling and rising even hours later after he finally finds his fill after filling her more times than she can count. After the shared shower where he ran the wash cloth over her body with gentle touches and soft, murmured words of praise and adoration. The way he handled the changing of the sheets and bedding, pulling her body into his as she curled into him, his voice low and his determination unassailable.
“You’re mine forever, Karina.” He travels his mouth around the perimeter of her hairline, hand on the back of her neck, hers over his heart where her name is spelled out in blank ink among the valley of other permanent markings of his journey. Of his life. Of him. “That’s never going to change. I’m never letting you go.”
It's a proclamation that sends chills down her spine.
I'm all for creative looks, expressing yourself (even if that means showing more than some cleavage) and owning it.
But what is that little see-through piece of fabric holding and why is her boob just there? Isn't that one of our private parts; why have we gotten so comfortable with letting literally everybody see our body which should be sacred?
I'm all for women's bodies btw, don't get me wrong I'm a lover of women for sure, but (and I feel like an old bitch for saying this) but decorum and modesty needs to play a bigger role in our lives than what they are.
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
tangentwithtanner
kaledo-art
