[18] MDNI! my work is explicit content fit for those 18 and above.
ROMAN REIGNS ༉‧₊˚.
based on wwe’s character.
i. WRITTEN WORKS.
oldest → newest
TONKA BEAN! read here.
1.3k words; smut | roman’s tired of his bratty, bossy girlfriend’s love for basic, vanilla sex and needs something more suitable to his rougher nature.
summary: your occasionally jealous husband finds out that your first ever dance since becoming a professional figure skater involves a male partner.
warnings: mature language, angst, government name use, light toxicity & smut!
A/N: thank you to @jennakaoriiii for this request. i hope you enjoy! <3
“alright, awesome work!” your coach calls out, clapping his hands as you skate back toward the middle of the rink. “go take a drink and relax for a bit. i’m gonna work with ricky on his part and then we’ll meet back up to go over the duo choreo.”
you nod, taking deep breaths out of your mouth.
you’ve been ice skating for as long as you could remember.
from pretty much since you could walk, your parents brought you to the community frozen pond.
for your 4th birthday, you got your first pair of skates.
by the time you were 7, you’d been taking lessons every monday and friday after school at the local arena.
at 10, you were performing recitals for said arena.
and just recently, about two years ago, by the age of 29, you’ve officially gone professional.
truth be told, you don’t remember life without skating. and honestly, you don’t want to.
you accept his offer of double high fives and a quick hug before gliding back towards the entry, where your husband joe and daughter kaylina are sat, watching you with matching toothy grins.
“you looked beautiful my love,” joe compliments, holding out a hand and helping you off the ice before offering you a kiss.
you cup his bearded face with both hands, standing on the tips of your blades.
you thank him in between kisses, causing him to chuckle against your lips.
you pull away, brushing your nose lightly against his, and kneel down to your daughter’s 3’11 level.
“how do you skate like that, mommy?!” she asks with a heavy lisp, as a result of her two front teeth falling out two nights ago while munching on a pre-dinner fruit salad.
you smile softly, brushing stray curls out of her face. “lots of practice, sweet girl.”
“how much?” she asks curiously, watching as you take a seat on the bench and go to re-tighten your skates.
“well,” you begin, untying the multiple rows of laces. “i started when i was about four.”
she gasps dramatically, causing you and joe to both chuckle. “younger than me?!”
you nod, giggling softly. “that’s right. grandma and grandpa got me a teacher and i never stopped learning.”
“wow!” she exclaims. “i wish i could skate like you.”
your heart swells.
knowing that there’s a fantastic chance you’ll be able to do what your parents did, teach their daughter the art of figure skating, it brings you so much joy.
you chuckle again, stroking her cheek with your knuckle. “after my show, once i have enough time, i promise i’ll take you onto the ice with me. deal?”
she nods, jumping up and down with a squeal.
just as you’re finishing tying the second bow, the sound of someone skating over to the three of you gets closer, causing you to look up.
“heyyy!” you greet ricky, jumping up and wrapping him into a tight hug.
he greets you back with matching excitement and turns to your husband and daughter.
“ricky, this is my husband joe and daughter kaylina,” you begin to introduce everyone, interlocking fingers with your man. “guys, this is ricky. he’s my partner in the big showcase coming up.”
“hi, ricky!” your daughter acknowledges him cheerfully, causing him to chuckle.
“it’s so nice to meet you guys,” he says cheerily. “i’ve heard such good things.”
when joe does nothing but offer a quick nod, confusion comes over you.
normally, he’s incredibly outgoing and friendly around new people. why is he acting like this now?
you narrow your eyes, just for a quick second, before ricky clears his throat.
“well uh,” he begins nervously, turning to you. “i just wanted to relay a message from coach. we just finished up my choreo so we’re gonna start on ours in like fifteen-ish.”
you nod, putting on a smile to prevent making the situation any more awkward. “sounds good, thank you.”
you two share another hug before he flashes a half smile to your family and gets back in the rink, wasting no time skating away.
you watch him for a moment before turning back to joe, who’s already helping your daughter into her coat.
“leaving already?” you ask, unable to hide your disappointment.
joe doesn’t look up. instead, he just gives you a quick nod. “we’re gonna go start on dinner.”
you blink in confusion.
normally, he happily stays for your whole practice and you three drive home together as a family.
what’s happening?
“hey,” you say quietly, gently touching his forearm. “is everything okay?”
he looks into your eyes for a few moments before nodding again. “fine. i just wanna get a head-start on the food, that’s all.”
choosing not to push any further, you nod and look down at the rug beneath your feet.
“we’ll see you at home,” joe mutters, kissing the top of your head before walking away, hand in hand with your daughter.
“bye, mommy!” kaylina calls out, her little pink glove waving at you, before turning back around towards the door.
you stand there helpless, watching them until they’re out of sight.
“hey, everything alright?” your coach asks, placing a friendly hand on your back.
“y-yeah fine,” you reply, and you two head back onto the ice.
“mommy!” kaylina calls out, running down the flight of stairs near your front door.
you smile, squat down to her level, and wrap her in a tight hug, attacking her with kisses.
her giggles are like music to your ears, especially with how anxious you’ve been since joe walked out the way he did earlier.
“hi babygirl,” you greet her. “have you been good for daddy?”
she instantly nods, holding up a hot pink glittery crayon. “we colored and played barbies! but daddy had to stop because he’s making dinner.”
you give her a warm smile, nodding. “i’m sure the food will be done soon so we can play afterwards, okay?”
“okay!” she replies, wrapping her little arms around your neck.
you hug back tightly and pull away to give her a kiss on the cheek before she’s back up the stairs.
you watch until she’s out of sight, before the sound of a sink turning on snaps you back to reality and right towards the kitchen.
inside, joe is hard at work, washing and peeling some potatoes.
you walk over and place a loving hand on his back, causing him to look over.
“oh hey,” he greets you, focusing back on the task at hand. “didn’t even hear you come in.”
now he’s not even bothering to kiss you hello, despite not being able to get his hands off you the few times you’ve come home on your own before this.
something is definitely wrong.
you take a deep breath, dropping your hand and placing it in your jacket pocket.
“that’s weird, because you’re always damn near opening the door for me. not that i’m ever walking through it without you on nights that i have practice anyway.”
he stops in his tracks.
“wanna tell me what that was back there?” you continue, nodding towards the living room. “why you walked out and left me a nervous wreck for two hours thinking i did something wrong?”
he places the vegetables down, shuts the faucet, and looks down at you.
“what would you have done?” he asks, leaning against the sink.
you narrow your eyes. “what are you talking about?”
he shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “what would you have done if you had to find out, with zero warning ahead of time, that i was performing in my first professional show with a woman?”
any expression you had in that moment drops from shock.
you knew joe could be jealous sometimes, but to judge your professional relationship with someone he doesn’t even know? this is a new low.
“so that’s what this is all about?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.
when he doesn’t answer, you continue.
“you made me feel like a piece of shit, thinking i did something wrong, because you’re jealous that i’m working with someone who you didn’t even bother to get to know?”
“why should i bother? he was all fucking over you!”
the guy gave you a singular hug. he can’t be serious right now.
“oh, give me a break, joe! it was a hug.”
“so what?! who is he to touch what’s mine right in front of me?! not to mention i don’t even fucking know him!”
“you didn’t even give him a chance!”
“i don’t have to know him to know that he has a thing for you.”
you go to stand your ground even further, but nothing comes out. just the feeling of hot tears streaming down your face.
“you know what? fine.” you drop your car keys on the counter, hold up your hands, and turn to walk away.
he narrows his eyes. “fine what?”
“if you still don’t trust me two years into marriage, then fuck you. that’s what!” you call out, before practically running out of the room and darting upstairs.
it’s been over an hour.
you haven’t moved, haven’t taken a shower, haven’t even changed out of your practice outfit.
all you’ve been doing is sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the door, head in your knees, crying.
you told yourself he wasn’t worth it. that whatever the fuck he thought was going on between you and ricky would only be proven right if you didn’t defend yourself.
but nothing sounded more heartbreaking to you than your own husband not trusting you. and not just that, but doubting your loyalty towards him.
you lift your head and use the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tears before standing up.
in one stride, you grab the first pair of pajama shorts and oversized hoodie you can find out of your dresser, and head back to the bathroom.
within moments of the water hitting you, you feel instant relief. like a strong pair of arms are holding you and nothing could ever hurt you again.
god, you miss joe making you feel this way.
except, when you go to wash your lower half, that’s exactly what’s occurring.
two muscular, tattoo filled arms are wrapped around your waist.
you look out of the corner of your eye and begin to feel lips — his lips — feathering soft kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder.
you turn in his arms, your eyes beginning to sting all over again once they meet his.
they’re so full of guilt. so full of sorrow.
you can absolutely tell how regretful and sorry he is from his face alone, but you need to hear it.
“baby i…” he’s only said two words so far, but the rasp speaks volumes.
he only gets this way when he’s about to beg for forgiveness.
you’ve only heard it one other time, when he accidentally dropped the antique plate that your great grandma made as a wedding gift to you two before she passed away.
from the second you told him gravity is natural and forgave him, he got on his knees and ate you out until the sun came up the next morning.
“i need you to know how sorry i am,” he continues between shaky breaths, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from bursting into tears at any moment. “i made an ass out of myself at the rink today. you were right, i had no right to act like that towards ricky and, especially you, when it was my first time meeting him. i just….panicked.”
the way you want to slap the shit out of him right now. but, being the understanding wife you are, you let him continue.
“the truth is, well i guess you know this already but, i’m fucking addicted to you. you’re my wife. fuck, you’re the mother of my child. and seeing a guy get that close to you it just….it triggered something in me. it’s like a protective switch went off.”
“i just wish you let me explain,” you exclaim, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. “i felt so bad about myself thinking i did something wrong from the second you left.”
he wipes your cheeks with his thumb and cups them, tears of his own filling his eyes now. “i know, baby. i know you did. and you didn’t deserve to feel like that. you never should again.”
you sniffle in response.
“i don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but i just needed you to know how sorry i am, sweetheart. and how much i love you and the life we have together. more than anything in this world.”
you watch on as he sinks to his knees and presses a kiss right below your belly before looking up at you.
you run your fingers through his long, black locks. “you know i can’t stay mad at you for too long, joe.”
he smiles, grabbing ahold of your hands and kissing the inside of your palms.
“i probably shouldn’t this soon but,” you continue, taking a moment to enjoy the hot water cascading into your curls and down your back. “i forgive you. and i love what we have too. so much.”
he lets out a sigh of relief before standing upright and grabbing your face, smashing his lips against yours.
you kiss back immediately, throwing your arms around his neck.
“up baby,” you hear him mumble into your throat, as he lightly taps your sides.
you do as he says and jump, wrapping your legs around his waist when he catches you.
the feeling of the cold tiles against your back sends a chill down your spine, causing you to quietly moan against his lips.
“already got you a moaning mess and i ain’t done shit yet,” he mumbles in between kisses below your ear.
the same man that was just on his knees apologizing to you is now right back to his cocky self? not on your watch.
you grab ahold of his face and turn it towards you. “you want me to go right back to hating you? shut the fuck up and fuck me.”
he stares at you in disbelief for a moment before licking his top lip and letting out a chuckle.
“you done lost your mind girl,” he teases, looking back up at you. “but i’ll let you have it tonight.”
you watch on as he lowers his hand to his rock hard member, eventually sliding the head up and down your folds.
you curse under your breath as he begins to enter you, his length reaching further and further inside your core.
“j-joe! wait!” you call out, digging your nails into his back.
he chuckles again, much darker this time. “nah, baby. you wanted this, now take it. all of it.”
“i will get you higher, my love will get you high,”
summary: late-night, high kitchen sex with college boyfriend roman. inspired by jhené aiko’s higher.
pairing: roman reigns x poc!fem!reader.
content: mdni. 2k words. cannabis usage. smut. dirty talk. light degrading. roman’s packin a six-incher cuz duh! kitchen sex. rough sex. roman’s lowkey an ass but he’s also kinda cutesy. fluff!!! oc’s fed up w his ass. shield!roman mixed w college roman. abttt seventy percent edited.
You heard footsteps. Closer, and closer.
The cosmic brownie paused between your teeth. Staring at the arched doorway with your heart thumping against your ribcage, your shoulders stiffened beneath the straps of your tank top. You slowly sank your teeth into the overly sweet dessert, chewing slowly.
“Baby?” Roman’s voice cut through the absolute silence. Oh. His eyes found yours in the kitchen’s warm, mellow lighting. A brow raised before his lips twitched into an amused smile. “What’re you doin’?”
He approached the island counter, standing between your dangling legs. “Don’t you see the time?” he asked, placing his hands on your bare thighs to warm your skin. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, reading the green-glowing digits on the stove. Looking back at you, “It’s two in the mornin’.”
You pouted and swallowed the chocolate. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Roman clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “You can never sleep,” he scoffed, and raised a finger to tap the tip of your nose. “Your parents ain’t home yet?” he asked, watching you shake your head. Then his eyes fell on the brownie you held between soft-pink, manicured fingers. “Baby… you know these are for your lil’ sister, right? You know she gon’ throw a fit if she don’t got them tomorrow.”
“I don’t care; I’m hungry,” you huffed, rolling your eyes and taking another bite. “Plus, you’ll just buy more tomorrow morning.”
Your boyfriend barked out a laugh at that, nodding. “I’ll get her some more tomorrow.”
At his easy agreement, you kissed him and murmured a soft thank you against his lips. “Honestly, I don’t know how my parents do it. I love her, but I’m literally never babysitting her again.”
Roman chuckled. “You know damn well they gon’ make you babysit next week, baby,” he pointed out, to which you groaned. “You just gon’ drag me down with you again, ain’t you?”
Giggling, you didn’t protest when he brought your hand to his mouth. However, when he took a big-ass bite of the brownie, you instantly whined. “Hey, get your own!” you groaned with a scowl, tugging your wrist out of his grasp. That earned you a glare from him, his moving lips beaded with crumbs: “Stingy ass.”
Sitting in a comfortable quietude, Roman rested his forehead on your shoulder. Then, he buried his nose into your top and sniffed a few times—deeply. He lifted his head with furrowed brows. “Baby, you smoked?”
“Yeah,” you replied easily, dusting the bits of brownie off your hands. “I’m not that high, though.”
Roman’s lips parted in disbelief, and he stared at you like he’d been betrayed. “And you ain’t care to tell me?”
Pausing, he would swat your thigh next. “Share, girl. The fuck’s wrong with you?”
༉‧₊˚.
The kitchen reeked of weed — cloudy, slightly humid. You gawked at your boyfriend as he spoke while popping mini cookies into his mouth, something he happily found in the pantry. Leaning against the opposite counter, one of his big hands flapped around, trying to make a point despite slurring his words.
You held his hand and dragged his ass to cloud nine in a matter of minutes.
“Déjà vu is literally a look into another universe. Like, a timeline in which we already did something, and our present is just following the same footsteps,” you stated surely. “That’s why there’s destiny, Ro, ‘cause the future already happened!”
“Baby, that doesn’t make sense. There’s some, like, psychological shit behind déjà vu,” he said, watching you shake your head furiously. “What do you mean? We don’t know nothin’ ‘bout them other universes. That’s some sci-fi shit—and we don’t know ‘bout destiny for sure, either.”
You lifted an index finger, quickly swallowing the chips you were devouring. “No, that doesn’t make any sense,” you countered. “Think about it. Like, how am I getting flashbacks doing something I’ve never done before? That’s weird!” you protested, watching his red-tinted, hooded eyes blink. “So you’re saying our memory is just playing tricks on us? I don’t think it works like that.”
“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’—philosophical shit is just mental, baby,” Roman dismissed softly, setting the empty packet down on the counter. “Matter of fact, where’s my phone? I’mma show you that I’m right.”
Fishing his phone out of his sweats, he first struggled to unlock it, then his thumbs hovered awkwardly over the keyboard. Soft, pink lips pursed, he cleared his throat.
“… Wait, what was I gon’ search?”
Your lips twitched into a growing grin. Then, his eyes flickered up to yours.
Two blinks.
You both burst into laughter—a sound loud and rash. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the noise so as not to wake your little brother down the hall. You lowered your head, shoulders trembling violently. Roman followed suit, snorting into his wide palm. He’d set his phone on the counter face down, like he was too embarrassed to even look at it.
“Stop, I’m crying!” you drawled, wiping a tear. “It’s the way you looked up!”
“Nah, ‘cause why’d you leave me hangin’ like that?” he whined through a laugh.
“I wanted to see if you could prove your point!” you defended, a toothy, loose grin hanging on your lips. You’d press your thumbs to the wet corners of your eyes, drying them with a soft sniffle.
He’d chuckle and push off the counter, hands reaching for exposed thighs. “You ain’t hear me just now? I can’t even remember my damn point,” he huffed, face nestled into your neck. Your hand lifted to cup the back of his head and gently scratched, eliciting a moan from him.
Roman’s lips connected with your neck, open-mouthed and hot. “That’s why we shouldn’t be arguin’ over bullshit,” he said and lifted a hand to cup your jaw. The pads of his fingers dug softly into your cheeks, your lips puckered for him to kiss. “You don’t wanna argue with me, right, baby?” he asked lowly, his eyes boring into yours until you shook your head.
“Mm, that’s right. Now get your lil’ ass up and bend over this counter.”
Oh? You stared at him dumbly, features twisting into confusion. “Huh?” you breathed out, peeking at the stove once. “Roman, we can’t… do it here. My parents are coming home in, like, an hour,” you reminded, lips dipped into a frown. “Plus, hypothetically, if we did, we’d have to be very, very quiet.”
Roman, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to care less.
“Yeah, an hour. That’s plenty.” He shrugged and patted your thigh firmly. “And I guess you’re just gon’ have to be very, very quiet.”
Narrowing your eyes, you groaned and jumped off the counter, two hands on your waist offering support. You turned around with a slight wobble, bending over. Then, you deliberately pushed your ass against the thick outline in his sweats.
“M’kay, I’m ready.”
Roman stifled a snort and shook his head. “Well, shit, don’t you seem excited for somebody who was talkin’ ‘bout some ‘we can’t do it here’?” he scoffed, hooking two digits on your silky night shorts, tugging them down. He’d swallow thickly at the sight he’d been met with—denuded, glistening pussy on full display. He’d lower his sweats and boxers to beneath his heavy balls, hard length springing free.
You rolled your eyes, head turning to toss a glare over your shoulder. “Just put it in.”
“Who you bossin’ around?” he asked and slapped your ass. Fueled by your startled gasp, his hand wrapped around his length and gave it a few tugs. The tip probed at your pudgy, sticky folds, dragging through them. Then, it slapped against your puffy clit, leaking pre-cum on the bud.
Roman’s lips twitched at the whine you released.
Without warning, he pushed in. Six inches, flared head kissing your cervix.
One hand pushed down on the nape of your neck, forcing your cheek to meet the counter’s icy marble. “This is what you wanted, ain’t it, baby? Answer me,” he plunged into your pussy, ignoring the cries seeping past your lips. “Fuckin’ slut. You like bein’ fucked in your parents’ kitchen, huh? You want them comin’ up in here, seein’ their daughter high outta her mind, takin’ dick, huh?”
You didn’t respond—couldn’t—but that didn’t slide with Roman.
He slapped your ass again, the sound echoing in the kitchen. “I said answer me.”
“Yes!” you gasp sharply, teeth biting into your bottom lip. You didn’t know what the fuck you were answering to because, god, the dick was just that good. “Yes, Roman! Yes, yes, yes—”
Your hair was wrapped around a fist, and your head jerked back roughly. “I heard you. Shut your ass up ‘fore you wake up your damn sister,” he grumbled lowly in your ear. His tongue fished the lobe into his mouth, sucking and nipping. Your lips curled into your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises in your throat. In praise, “Yeah, there you go—atta girl. Just take it for me.”
Roman’s hips pistoled into you, the pace lost because he was pounding. Wet, lewd sounds blended with skin-on-skin contact. Ten more minutes of it, and then his movements began to slacken. Hissing, a sweaty forehead dropped onto your shoulder.
“Pussy’s so damn good… gon’ suck the fuckin’ nut outta me.”
You whimpered, a knot forming in your belly. Softly, “Ro, ‘m gonna cum,” you mumbled, blurry eyes screwing shut. “Then come for me, baby. Give it to me,” he said, and you did just that. Your walls tightened around him, lips in an ‘o’ shape. You came on him hard, dousing his dick in cream.
“S-Shit!” Roman rasped, managing to force out three stable, measured strokes. Hair released and head dropping forward, his hands flew to your waist. “I’m gon’ come, baby—fuck,” he drawled, hastily pulling out and stroking his member.
Hips stuttering into his hand, his balls drew up. Thick, white ropes covered your ass, filling those back dimples and stretching across your spine. Spent, he collapsed over your arched back, breathing heavily against your neck — and he stayed like that until you complained about struggling to breathe and your back hurting.
“I’m bouta pass out,” he said in jest and pulled his sweats back up, then proceeded to tell you to ‘stop being so damn worried’ after you gasped dramatically.
As if the tables had turned, he pouted at the swat given to his chest, a hand rubbing the muscled pec solemnly before the other reached for the box of Cheez-Its you were munching on. Quietly, “Damn, these bitches are stale as hell.”
Glaring at him, you haphazardly peeled a sheet of paper towel, using it to wipe the mess he left on your backside. “You’re so useless,” you sighed, rounding the counter and tossing it in the garbage can. Then, you moved around the kitchen to open the windows ajar, a desperate attempt to air out the pungent scent of weed and sex.
Roman took offence to your comment, frowning around a tiny cracker. “How am I useless? I just finished fuckin’ you,” he pointed out, a brow quirking up at your deadpan glare and folded arms. Pointing a long finger at you, “And I did most of the babysittin’ today. So, y’know what? Complain again, and I’ll tell your parents that their daughter’s a fuckin’ fraud.”
Now you were pouting, walking toward him with your shoulders slumped.
You lifted one of his hunky arms over your shoulders, cheek against his chest. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry.” At that, your boyfriend laughed and gently shoved a Cheez-It into your mouth.
“You really holdin’ onto them five dollars, huh?”
vea’s note: thank you all for the love on tonka bean 🥹!!! I really didn’t think it was gone get all that attention but it did and I’m so grateful. this here is just a likkle lazy, self-indulgent piece becuz I’m a bitch that loves weed, high sex, and an annoying man ... I was also thinking abt college roro and roro smoking zaza and said hollon ☝🏽 hope u enjoyed. I’ll edit this soo— 💥
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