Still Wayward AF

Ree/42/Amused in IL/Poly, Pan-Demisexual/Blerd/All-Around Weirdo. I love my fandoms and the friends I’ve made along the way. Because Tumblr is being dumb, I’ve decided to move my writing to a new page. Former writer of SPN (still part of the Family), current writer of Finn Bálor (and proud of it). Welcome to the insanity.

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

The Infernal Lounge: Masterlist

So once upon a time, before Tumblr lost its damn mind, I wrote fics. Many of which involve Finn Bálor (aka, the best damn muse I’ve ever had), but also several for the show, Supernatural (where it all began).

Now that the scarlet letter is no longer on my @neversatisfiedgirl​ blog, I can link the two masterlists together. 

To followers old and new, I can’t thank you enough for being a part of my page, and I hope you enjoy the madness.

Now to business:

This masterlist includes what I’ve posted directly to this blog so far, as well as what’s coming. But if you’d like to see where I started, check out my other masterlist, The Luminous Sanctuary.

Drabble Series:

Kinktober 2019: The Many Lives and Kinks of Finn Balor 

The Orisha and The Demon: Greeting - Queen of Storms - First Kiss - Appraisal

Infamous Magic (Damian Priest): Choice - Possession - (un)Clean - Tangled - Huntress

Handle with Care: Everything’s Alright - In Your Eyes

The Priest and the Messiah: Posturing - Crowded Room - The (False) Messiah - The (Demon) Priest - Quiet Moment

The Afterglow Series 

One-Shots:

The Joy of Our Sins: Finn Balor (Father Finn) x Reader (Warnings for language, sacrilege, and - you guessed it - lemons!)

The Sweetest of Sins: Finn Balor (Father Finn) x Reader (Warnings for language, sacrilege, and... lemons. Sooo many lemons.)

Sweetest in the Middle: Finn Balor x Reader (Warnings for language and...well, straight-up lemons.)

Night of the Hunter: Finn Balor x Reader (Warnings for mentions of domestic abuse and graphic horror violence; based on this drabble)

Fall Again: Demon King!Finn x Fallen Angel!Reader (Warnings for a bit of language, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, and lemons)

Full-Length Series:

Stars Before They Fall - Finn Balor x WoC!Reader  (Warnings for graphic violence, gore, language, sexual situations, illness, and sacrilege) - on hold until further notice

Lost Souls: A Tale of Heaven and Hell - Finn Balor x OFC (Warnings for graphic violence, gore, language, sexual situations, abuse, and a good dose of sacrilege) - ongoing

Untitled Damian Priest/OFC/Finn Balor Project - Not giving anything away on this one yet, but it’s in progress! Watch this space.

Choose Your Own Ending:

Seafoam: Finn Balor x WoC Tattoo Artist!Reader (written for the Love/Sex/Magic Challenge)

More to come, so watch this space! And thanks so much for being a part of my blog. I love every single one of you. 

[demonslunacy]

I send this dedication to all of those who I follow, and those that need to be reminded ... to me, you're f**kin perfect!

My words, so valued by me, fail to express the truly beautiful souls I find in each and everyone of you! May each of you know peace, wisdom, and grace!

@haven-raven012591 @superrezzy00 @neversatisfiedgirlfics @writinglionqueen @schizoauthoress @scuzmunkie @alternateafterthought @deepdisireslonging @flawlessglamazon @gold--gucciempress @snarkandsarcasmftw

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

[punksrhea]

DAMIAN PRIEST WWE SmackDown, February 14th, 2025

[deepdisireslonging]

Just a Movie

It feels like the world is going to hell in a handbasket. Finn takes the time to give the Reader a bit of peace.

Pairing: Finn Balor x Reader

Warnings/Promises: Fluff, SMUT, winter weather, food mention, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, p-in-v

Word Count: 2240

Note: Wanted to give my writing bestie @neversatisfiedgirlfics a little treat. Happy Valentine’s, dearie!

He had gone all out. Blankets. A flickering fire. And a pile of movies to choose from. There were your favorites from Jurassic Park to Sleeping Beauty, classics like Gilda and Philadelphia Story, and movies always in your rotation like The Mummy and Howls Moving Castle. With the snow piled high outside, you chose The Mummy. What better way to escape the cold than with a giant pile of blankets and a movie set in the desert?

Finn snuggled close under his own pile of blankets. He kept you plied with hot chocolate. And, when Evie and Rick had cutesy moments on screen, he nuzzled his nose along your cheekbone and under your jaw. It never failed to make him grin when you said your favorite lines before the characters did. And, despite him doing it every time you watched this movie, he squeezed you suddenly when a mummified Anuksunamun popped up. It made you squeal, making him laugh.

When the credits began to roll, you cracked open your blankets to snuggle into his.

You squinted at him. “What was all this for?” Innocent as sin, he tried to avoid your gaze. But you drew him back by nestling your head into the curve of his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Love.” He kissed your forehead. “I wanted to give you a little bit of a rest. You’ve had a lot going on.” His cheek rested against yours. “We both have.”

The movie finally reverted to the home screen. Finn turned off the tv. Outside, the snow created a muffled barrier to the world. The fire crackled like static in the silence, lulling you closer and closer to sleep. Finn breathed steadily. You began to match his rhythm, breathing in unison until you couldn’t tell your exhale from his, and his inhale from yours. Every so often, you hummed contentedly. Finn’s hand rested on your thigh. His thumb smoothed back and forth, creating little arches in the fabric of your lounge-wear.

You tried not to think about what the world had in store for your tomorrow. Or what it had done to you already in the days and months past. Despite all the stress and barriers, there would still be laundry to do, and dishes to wash. Finn always folded and put away what clothes you dumped into the clean hamper after a wash. And he washed the dishes so you could dry them and put them away. In every task shared at home, his body was a reassuring, reoccurring wall to bump into. He was sturdy when you wanted to fall. And he let you pour your heart into caring for him when you needed to create proof of goodness in the world.

A log crackled and split in the fireplace.

The thoughts swirling in your head popped like a soap bubble. Instead of thinking about yesterday or tomorrow, you focused on the warmth of the blankets. Finn’s even breathing. How loved you felt. Finn’s thumb was still making little arches in the fabric of your lounge pants.

You could have sat together forever.

But Finn was so warm. You couldn’t stop rubbing your hands across his stomach. Down his thighs. Dipping under his shirt to feel his warm flesh against your fingertips. Finn’s breath caught. His sigh hummed across your forehead.

“What do you need, moi ghrá?”

“You’re so warm.”

“Mhmm.” He inhaled deeply and gave your forehead a lingering kiss. “So are you.” His stomach contracted as your nails grazed over the hills and valleys of his muscles. “Then again, you are playing with fire. It’s easy to be warm with a woman like you.” Finn’s mouth lingered from your forehead, down your cheek, and under your jawline. He suckled softly on the curve of your neck, making you gasp. “Is this what you were after, a stór? I thought we were having a movie day.”

You swallowed hard. “I thought so too. You gonna put in the next one?”

But he continued to kiss around your neck, across your collarbone, and to lick at the hollow of your throat.

“Finn?”

“Hmm?”

“How long have you been planning this?” You yelped as he guided you back into the couch cushions. Your chest heaved as his hands slid up under your sweatshirt.

“No plan,” he hummed. “Just knew I wanted to take care of you. In any way that you needed.” His breath stuttered as he found you bra-less and breathless for him. “How am I doing so far?”

You bit your lip as his hand squeezed around your breast. “Don’t stop.”

If his face hadn’t been so pretty, the lurid grin that crossed it would have been irksome. But his hands kneaded across your body. Any aches or pains that life had knotted into your joints was massaged away. And underneath your skin, your body pulsed with the growing desire that Finn was sure to pour into you. He removed your lounge pants, humming with delight to find you bare there too. He licked his lips.

Finn kissed you deeply, distracting you from how he leaned back, dragging you with him. But instead of finding yourself face-to-face with him, he continued to lay back and guided you to sit on his stomach.

“Finn?” You nervously looked between him and the windows in front of you. The sheers were drawn. But even they didn’t fully block out the winter wonderland outside. Nor would they block the view of the warm interior from the outside. Your eyes crossed as he dragged a finger through your slick, noisily sucking on his fingers. Next thing you knew, he had you situated over his face. “Baby... the neighbors.”

“So?” His nose traced little circles to the inside of your thighs.

“Someone might see.”

He grunted. “So let ‘em see. I am not moving from this spot, and neither are you,” he flattened his tongue against your sex to make your back arch. “Not until you don’t care about the world anymore.”

A sad laugh bubbled out of you. “Then we could be here for a while.” You tried to dismount his face.

But Finn wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs and held you down. He growled, sending the vibrations where he knew would make you tremble. “Then we’re here for a while.” His loving glare deepened as you tried to hover and not smother him. “Nobody, not Samoa Joe or Roman or Cesaro has been able to do what you’re scared to do. If I need to breathe, I’ll find a way. Now get down here.”

Pinning you down over his mouth, Finn began to lick and suck and lap happily at your sex. Your head fell forward and lolled to the side with the sudden onslaught of pleasure. Bracing your hand forward against the arm rest, you did your best not to roll your hips. But Finn rolled them for you. He slid you back and forth against his tongue.

Staggered, you raked your hand across the end table, knocking the remnants of the hot chocolate mugs into the floor. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by the mess. Not when Finn was making happy noises under you, turning you into another kind of mess,  and devouring you like his last meal. When he did finally pull back for air, his face glistened with your arousal. The top curve of his cheeks were pink with delight. And his smile was downright pussy-drunk.

“How ‘ya feelin’ a stór?”

The tiny whimper that passed through your lips was not what you intended to say. But he got the gist.

With a chuckle, he dove back in. Sucking at your clit, he made you see stars. Any source of light in the room that your eyes glanced over had a halo from his power over you. Or maybe it was just double vision from the same reason. Your hips moved of their own accord. He sucked hard on your clit, finally making you cry out with release. But he didn’t stop attacking your bud until your thighs were shaking and you were begging for mercy.

“You gotta let me breathe, baby,” you whined.

He loudly lapped up your release. “So breathe.” But he did take pity on your sensitivity. Soon, you were once again on your back against the couch pillows. He messily kissed from one side of your neck to the other. When he pulled back to look at you, your hand on his cheek tilted. You ran your thumb across his lips. They were beautiful on a normal day, and plumped from eating you out. As your other hand reached for his length still trapped in his own sweats, he grunted. Finn resisted your efforts to turn him over.

You pouted. “Wanna do the same for you.”

“Nuh-uh. You get your mouth on me and I’ll blow in a minute.”

“And what am I supposed to do when you get your cock in me?”

He shrugged. “Clamp down on me ‘till I see God? It has been a minute since we chatted.” With a chuckle, he dragged his length into the open. His eyes closed and he hissed, his hand gently fisting himself. He rasped, “I’ve been hesitatin’ to speak to a priest. Don’t want to threaten his frock with the details of what I’ve been doin’ to ya. Or what else I want to do to ya.”

You made whatever sounds you pleased as he slowly filled you. The stretch and drag of him pulled desperate groans from between your lips. But you also held your breath so you could hear Finn’s pants and moans. You ran your hand up under his sweatshirt, whining until he dragged it over his head and out of the way. Now you could really see him. How his stomach flexed and contracted as he tried to hold himself together. How his chest heaved in rhythm with yours. And how his arms flexed on either side of your head once he was fully seated within you.

It was taking him too long to move. You tried to roll your hips, needy for the friction. But Finn’s hands rushed to pin you down.

“Need another minute.” He breathed heavily. Eyes closed, and plump lips parted, he fought to hold off on his release.

“Breathe,” you cooed.

If he caught the sass riding on your tongue, he didn’t mention it. But he did catch his breath. Resolve finally as hard as the rest of him, he slowly dragged his cock from you before thrusting again. You arched, canting your body as best as you could to feel every inch of him. He didn’t hesitate to give you any of it. Again, the room acquired a halo. With the window behind him bright with the snow outside, he was backlight for your viewing pleasure. He shoved up the hem of your sweatshirt so he could have access to your breasts again. Leaning forward, he caught your nipple between his teeth. As your body rocked, he lightly nipped at the bud and the side of your breast. Your walls fluttered around him.

Beneath you, the couch legs creaked. If the whole thing started to move, you wouldn’t have been surprised. But you were too busy being folded in half to give a damn about scratches on the floor. Finn’s pace increased. His brow scrunched as he fought to keep his eyes open. You couldn’t return the effort. Your vision, already blurry around the edges, kept blacking out each time you blinked. It was nice being able to feel him, and to hear his grunts and muttered Irish promises.

Finn’s pace took on a frantic chase. You cried out beneath him. Your nails dragged thin red welts down his stomach. But his goal was at hand. Just a few more thrusts. And a few more. Your body quaked and shivered as you fell apart. He continued to thrust as you cried out, wailing his name. A shudder ran up his spine. With a shout, he followed you down into bliss.

With both of you panting, Finn collapsed onto your chest. His hot breath puffed across your chest, still on display while your sweatshirt was bunch up over your breasts. Chuckling, he kissed at the valley between them.

“You ready for round two?”

Gasping with a smile, you asked, “that was all round one?” Your fingers stroked at the hair at the nape of his neck. “Sure. Just... give me a minute?” Kissing at his heaving chest, you pushed him back till he was seated. You straddled his waist.

His hands rubbed back and forth over your thighs. Kissing under your jaw, he grinned against your skin. “I was thinking about The Mummy Returns, but this works too.”

“What?” You nipped at his jaw. “You can’t just... rock my world and then tell me we’re going back to watching a movie.”

“Why not?”

“How the hell am I supposed to focus when I’ve got all that,” you waved your hand over the general area of his physique, “sitting right next to me?”

After locating your scattered clothes, he helped you back into your lounge pants. “Dunno. But we’re supposed to be relaxing. So sit back.” He reburied you under your blankets and put in the next film. “Relax. And enjoy the show.”

It wasn’t fifteen minutes before his wandering hands found you again for “round two.”

***

Master List

Finn Balor/Prince Devitt Masterlist

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Girl, I - 😳

Woman, I'm dead. I'm dead. It's Valentine's Day and you've killed me.

And this section here?

😵😵😵

I wasn't ready to go out like this. But damn, what a method.

Thank you, beautiful! This was amazing and your writing is as brilliant as always. 😘

[writinglionqueen]

How's Your Head

It hurt.

Goddamn did it hurt.

Your head was pounding as the crew rush you backstage after receiving a nasty bump from your match. Your ears were ringing and the lights were starting to look like a kaleidoscope with every uneven step.

Of course you would receive such a bump during your match; hitting your head on one of the ring posts. It almost knocked you out but the hot feeling of blood running down your head kept you in until you got the win. But it wasn't long until the crew come down to get you out of the ring. They were quick to rush you to the medical room so they could inspect your condition there.

And not far behind you and the crew, you knew Drew was there. He had watched your match backstage like he always did. So, he had watched as you hit your head and everything. He was probably worried out of his mind for you, given the nature of the relationship you and him head. And you had faintly heard his voice through the crew's utterings of what to do when they got you to the room. You couldn't pay him any mind as one of the medical personnel looked at your head assessing if your wound needed any stitches or staples.

"Good and bad news," the medic said. "The good news is that it's not that deep or big. Bad news is that it you will need a couple staples." You gave a thumbs up to let them know you had heard and to proceed. The person was quick to numb the area, staple you up and clean what they could. "There's a good chance you have a concussion. I want you to lie down when you get to your hotel. Turn the lights out. I was gonna say that I was gonna fetch someone to take you to your hotel but I'm sure the Scotsman outside will take you, he's been outside since we started this." You nodded very slightly. Your head was still ringing.

The medic left, closing the door behind them. You closed your eyes and bowed your head, hoping the pain would die away. Maybe the medic had told you they had something for you to take when they were done but you didn't hear it and you didn't dare open your eyes to try and find it. And this was your first head injury since the start of your career. At least one that caused you to now be concussed. You wondered what you needed to do because of this. Drew would know.

The door clicked open and footsteps came into the room. It was Drew. No doubt about it.

"You ok?" he asked you as quietly as he could. He probably knew what you were feeling and new that loud sounds would only make it worse.

"Yeah," you hoarsely say.

"Looks like they left you something to take for the pain if you haven't taken anything yet," he mentioned. You gave a quick sigh of relief.

"That's good, I need it."

"How's your head?"

"Never had any complaints," your PG-13 mind was very quick to quip even with the pounding your head was feeling. Of course you wouldn't miss a beat.

Your quip had Drew chuckling.

"You know Princess, when you're up for it I'll take you up on the offer," he said to you. "But for now, let's get you to the hotel to rest up." You smiled at that.

"That sounds nice," you sigh. "This is gonna suck, isn't it?" Another chuckle sounded from Drew.

"Not as much as you will when you're no longer concussed."

You wanted to laugh. You really did but the act of smiling made your head pound worse.

"Fuuuuck," you groaned before holding your hand out. "Give me the pills first then we can go." Drew sighed.

You both could tell this was going to be a long night...and not in a fun way.

~~~

So I had a funny quip that I thought would make a good quick fic...and i ran with it. Sorry y'all that it's been a while since I've given you a real fic. Life's life haha!

Hope you like this though. If you did please don't forget to like and reblog for support. 💛🖤

Tag: @acon1120 @adriennegabriella @alination @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @ashkrystal @astolenheartnkiss @axelwolf8109 @baemcintyre @beckyann6879 @brownskinafro @calicina @calwitch @castiellawolfkissed @claymoreme @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans @curlyafrogirl @daddyslittlevillain @dalia-corven @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @fabulousrockstar @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @gold--gucciempress @hardcoresweet45 @iceebabies @ihavenowilltolivelol @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @jazzy-tzw @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @kalliravenne @ladytea19 @lemonjvicey @letsgivethisonemoreshot @lilred91

@littlesuperstars @madebypointlesswerewolves @malethirsty @midnight--luna @monocromaticstaircase @morenokatt @moxley-unhinged @mox-made-me-do-it @moxnmurphy @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @new-zealand-chic @nicolewoo @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @oreillystolemyheart @pandaluver96 @queenofthearchitect @retro-rezz-the-est @saint-yaint @saiyandude @sassymox @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @sebstanismylife @shortyiceheart @slytherinyourrpants @softmoxymuffin @taryn-dibiase @thatnerdwriter @thatpanpal @the-beastslayers-queen @the-darkness-never-leaves-us @thepalaceofmelanie @theworldofotps @thewrestlingwarehouse @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @trashofambrolleigns @twistedbeautifully @unprettypeony @waywardwrestlewritingwaif @welcome-to-lovecraft-country @xbreezymeadowsx  @mcreigns-enthusiast @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thesithdiaries @akiko-tanaka @wwechristina87 @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Okay, that tickled me. I loved that Drew just rolled with it, and gave back in kind. Perhaps a follow up when life slows down? 😁

Also I missed your words! 💜🖤

[toastbutteregg]

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Every night

[et-in-arkadia]

this is such incredible advice for creating any kind of art i have to put it over here to remind myself

[dduane]

And this goes for writing too.

There are stories that only you are qualified to tell best: that only you are able to tell. You are uniquely positioned in spacetime to do this job because of your life detail, your upbringing, your reading, your thinking. No one else can tell your stories just the way you do, no matter how good a writer they might be.

And inside you somewhere are characters desperate for your attention; desperate for your intention and your work to breathe life into them. They need your voice raised to tell their stories. No one else can do it. You are their only hope.

Waste no more time worrying about whether your take on their stories will be good enough. You have more important things to be thinking about. So go get on with it. :)

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

i'm glad you enjoyed the Roman fic so much, Ree! i hope i did you and your amazing self proud <3

Woman, I'm extremely proud of you! The way your writing has progressed is amazing, and I sincerely hope you keep going 💗

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

Summary: Immediately after his devastating loss to his cousins Jimmy and Jey at Money In The Bank, Roman finds you in the back as he looks for an outlet for all of this newfound pent-up energy…but this may lead to something else as well.

Word Count: 14,197 (jfc that's more than I expected)

Warnings: degradation, choking/throat squeezing, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), edging (for both parties involved), unprotected P in V action (please be safe and wrap it before you tap it irl tho), Roman being his Tribal Chief self (because that’s a warning all on its own), a bit of manhandling here and there as well….y’know, the works :3

A/N: All of this comes from three connecting factors: 1) Roman being the sexy ass WHORE that he is, 2) my own brain finally starting to work in tandem with my damn writing fingers, and 3) an all-caps DM from @stargazerofgoldenwords demanding that I write this so full partial blame goes to her. So here y’all go…for the bitches and the bros and for all the non-binary hoes ^3^ (I also haven’t written a full-fledged smut in I believe over three years so….I hope I did good lol)

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

How is this even possible? What’s going to happen now?

These thoughts and more rush through your mind as you stand board stiff in the back, your eyes seeming to be permanently glued to the large monitor in front of you while gasps and cheers from the remainder of the locker room fill your ears alongside the blaring bass of The Usos’ theme.

Roman told you to stay in the back for a reason, to only come out after he’d won and embarrassed the hell out of his cousins for ever turning their backs on him, so he could make examples out of them as a reason to never and not turn your back on the Tribal Chief.

He wanted them to remember this night, to remember the ache in their bones, the wear and tear of their joints as he slammed them against the mat over and over again, the blood and sweat staining their skin as he and Solo dug into the twins with everything they had left within them.

They would learn their lesson tonight, and they would learn it well: you do not mess with the Tribal Chief because if you do, you will feel a pain that you have never known before.

He was going to show everyone why he and he alone was the head of the table, why he was unstoppable, and why only those who followed him and his lead would prosper in the end.

But, none of that actually mattered in the end, not as you stand staring at the monitor, hands covering your mouth in shock.

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

Jey pinned Roman, pinned him for the first time in over three fucking years.

Blow after blow to the foundation of The Bloodline, week after week from the cracks being exposed to Sami’s turn at the Royal Rumble that set everything in motion to the goddamn explosion that occurred during Roman and Solo’s Night of Champions match.

After all this time, The Usos finally got one over on the Tribal Chief, they won the Bloodline civil war.

They beat the Tribal Chief, destroyed his so-called “Island of Relevancy”, showed the world that he is still just a man and can be beaten just like the rest of them. Roman Reigns is not as invincible as he claims to be!...

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

You can see it all processing in his eyes in real time, all of the noise around you fading into the background along with the roaring cheers from the London crowd: his loss, being pinned, the fact that despite being a champion he has lost his stance, his placement at the head of the table.

Because what use is there of an Island of Relevancy if you’re the only one standing on it?

Your hands drop from your mouth and fall to your sides; how the hell…? What the hell is happening? Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as those around you celebrate his demise, hands clapping shoulders and drinks beginning to be passed around as the show draws to a close.

You can practically see the floor falling out beneath Roman’s feet as he slides out of the ring, dejected and defeated with a raging inferno blazing bright and hot behind those fierce eyes of his; his entire world, perfectly constructed with seemingly no flaws whatsoever, has shattered in front of his very eyes.

Rage twisted and contorted Roman’s facial features into something unrecognizable as he sat on the floor ringside, kicking his feet and screaming his anger out into the universe like a temperamental child. Baring his teeth, hissing and gnashing his jaw like an uncaged animal…

Frankly, it scared the shit out of you to see live.

He’s shaking, actually shaking with all of the hate and virtiol that courses through his very veins. The bright lights of the arena, hot and beaming down on his skin? The way his hair sticks to the sides of his face and the heavy furrow in his brow? The way his entire body aches from the brutal punishment of the match?

None of that matters now. None of it will ever matter now.

His anger, his regret, his disappointment with himself as he comes to terms with the true loss of yet another faction of his, people who he loved and cared for turning their backs on him again…his mind was a maelstrom as he gripped his face and pulled at his temple, and not even the pain from that could distract him from the truth in front of his very eyes.

His own family, his own blood, has betrayed him, the image of Jimmy and Jey standing above him displaying on every and all of the large screens inside the arena. His heart pounds in his chest and hs blood boils; they can’t just get away with this. They will pay for their crimes against him, against their family, against their Bloodline!

The blood, the sweat, the tears and the pain he had poured into their family, all the work that he had put in to make sure that they all ate, that they all got opportunity after opportunity after opportunity….all for nothing.

You watch as Solo picks himself up from the floor and stumbles his way over to Roman, Paul’s face a complete mess and whirlwind of emotions as he rushes over with Roman’s smorgasbord of titles cradled like infants within his arms. You can barely hear what the latter is saying to the Tribal Chief over the cheers of The Usos’ celebrating and their theme blaring through the speakers, but it’s most likely some sort of consolation and a promise of revenge due to the bright red of the shorter man’s face.

Even after all of this, after everything that these men have just gone through, Jimmy still attempts to reach out to comfort Roman as he sits ringside on the floor, you watching as Jey pulls him back to his own side; Roman is a lost cause to them now. In their eyes, they’ve destroyed his corrupted faction, they’ve cut off the hydra’s heads, and now?

Now, they’re done with him, with all things Bloodline-related as the descend back into being “the ones”.

They are the new Tribal Chiefs around these parts, not Roman.

Not anymore.

After what feels like an eternity of the fallen party sitting in stasis outside of the ring, they all stand, Roman wrapping an arm around his midsection and another hand around his shoulder as they all walk backwards back up the long runway.

His eyes stay locked onto his cousins as the camera pans from him to them and back again, Solo’s eyes filled with an incoming storm and Paul’s lips seeming to move at a mile a minute with how quickly he seems to throw insults the way of The Usos.

But the two in the ring just smile.

They smile and embrace each other after a hard won victory as the entire WWE Universe embraces them as well, and all that does is piss Roman off even more.

Your body somehow finds the will to move, your feet ungluing themselves from the floor beheath them before you begin to move your way through the small crowd of those watching from the back.

You tear your eyes away from the monitor you were watching and beeline it straight to the guerilla position where they’re set to return, and you can still hear the thunderous cheers coming from the fans as Jimmy and Jey continue to celebrate the fall of the Tribal Chief. Maneuvering your way through throngs of people, past production, past *everything*...you have to find him.

You have to find him, and fast.

It’s like your feet barely even graze the ground with how fast you walk, the light tapping of your heels echoing off the walls around you as you make your way closer and closer to Roman and…oh.

You can just barely see him over the heads and past the shoulders of the cameramen, the interviewers waving their mics in their faces, over the glinting bald heads of Pearce and Hunter that’re shining with sweat as they attempt to get a word in with Roman before they try to rush him in the direction of where the press conference is being held…but it’s as though he doesn’t see any of them, his eyes dark and filled to the brim with something nasty.

You’re not even the prime target of his glare, steel-cut and piercing all that come across it, and even you feel the brunt of it, shivering where you stand behind the cloud of people vying for his attention as he moves his way through them. For the reporters and the interviewers, their mics in shaking hands as cameras flash in his face, all of their questions die on their tongues the second his eyes sweep over them.

“Roman. Roman!” you hear Pearce call out to him, Hunter, Solo, and Heyman in tow close to his heels. “Damn it, Roman, listen to me!”

“We need to get you out there, Reigns. Just give a quick statement about the match, about The Usos, and then-”

Pearce and Hunter’s requests fall on deaf ears as you move to the side, the crowd of people following Roman’s path as he walks down one of the arena’s large halls.

“Excuse you, Hunter? Did you not just see the utter and complete farce that was the match our Tribal Chief just had?! There will be no statement to be made, and no appearance at any press conference shall be had unless it involves the absolute dismissal of what was clearly a farce of a loss!”

Paul’s demands make his face grow a bright red as he follows Roman, clutching his titles as his head seems to grow three sizes from the fury written across his face. “Jimmy and Jey, they’re cheaters! Conmen who have embarrassed your Tribal Chief in front of millions of people time and time again! We demand retribution! A rematch to set things right again! Do you know how much Roman Reigns has brought to this company? How much prestige he’s brought to these titles, to these championships?”

Paul jostles the titles in question in his arms, brows furrowed and steam practically pouring out of his ears. “This is an outrage! This is a scam! You two should be ashamed of yourselves for even allowing this to happen to a force like Roman Reigns-”

His incessant, constant stream of words and potential curses are paused by Solo’s hand slamming into his chest, Heyman’s eyes going wide as his mouth falls open before quickly closing it and stepping back to Roman’s side.

Roman pauses his stride, eyeing Hunter and Pearce so viciously that you yourself are shrinking into your own skin; he very clearly doesn’t want to be bothered right now, so why even try to ask him of anything at all?

The look he gives both men, the silent communications that occur between them seems to be more than enough for them to back off in their pursuits, stepping out of his way as their phones begin to ring constantly.

“We have to get some sort of response out of him, right? I mean, he’s the champion right now, we can’t just let him leave-”

“Let him cool off for a second, Pearce,” Hunter tells him, running a hand over his own stressed face. “He’s in no mood for any of that right about now.”

Roman continues to shove past and maneuver around those in his way, his steps as loud and threatening as his demeanor. Through and through, seconds by seconds that seem to stretch on forever until his eyes finally, finally gloss over your figure leaning on a nearby wall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your mind begins to turn.

And the very second that his gaze locks onto yours, time slows to a screeching halt.

There’s something in there that you rarely saw in him before, but that you’ve been seeing a lot more of recently.

That anger, that frustration, all of that adrenaline mixed all that hate and vitriol coursing through his veins…he needed to get all of it out, every last drop before he makes another misstep.

He needs you.

Shouldering his way past various sports reporters and camera people, he quickly makes his way across the hallway to you, his large figure towering over you as you begin to shrink further and further against the wall. He’s panting, partly from the resulting emotions following his match and partly from how rough the match in question ran his body.

His hand finds your wrist, gripping it tightly and without a single word from him, he pulls you from the wall and begins to walk away again, Solo and Heyman striding behind him while the media frenzy behind you all follows along.

“Roman, wait-”

He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with you again, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know.

Not now.

All the words you were going to say fall right back down your throat and you gulp, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak as you try your best to keep up with his pace. It doesn’t take long for your group to head back to his larger-than-anyone-else’s locker room, Solo being the last one inside as he shuts everyone else out besides himself, Heyman, you and Roman.

Paul quickly sets the championship belts aside on a nearby table while Roman runs a hand through his hair, running a hand over his face before taking a seat on one of the benches.

It’s quiet in here, all too quiet albeit for the clamoring noise outside…and this silence does not make you feel hopeful at all.

You all just…sit in that silence for a few minutes, stewing in it as the reality of what had just occurred mere moments ago finally sinks in for all parties involved.

“Wise man…”

All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.

“Leave us.”

That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”

“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”

His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.

“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.

“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief in due time. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”

Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…

…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.

Being in a space with Roman Reigns, you can feel how much of himself fills it: his aura, his stance, his voice, his demeanor…no matter how big or small a room, you can damn well tell that Roman’s in there. You could practically sense it in the air when he arrives, hairs rising on your firearms as all around you grow silent. However, as long as you are not his prime target, you will most likely walk out of that room unscathed - emphasis on most likely.

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

All of those feelings? All of those senses get hiked up to an eleven, the very room that the person is in feeling as though it’s shrinking around them as it seemingly pushes them closer and closer together.

And you, right now, are that poor soul in question.

Your hands grip the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, the one that he gave to you and told you to wear once you were supposed to come out after the match was over…after he was supposed to win - nervously, your eyes falling to the floor and sticking to the shoes that you wear.

You see Roman’s feet walking towards you before they pause, then moving in the opposite direction as they head towards the locker room door as well…only this time, your heart rate rockets straight to the moon once you hear the sharp clicking of the door’s lock turning, that noise bouncing off the walls of your mind like an echoing cavern.

The silence in the room is unbearable with a tension so thick, you can cut right through it with Roman’s steely gaze. It’s all too warm, too stuffy, too suffocating while you stand there, your teeth making a home in your bottom lip as you shift from foot to foot.

What do you say to him? What do you say at all? Do you commend him on a match well performed? Do you take Heyman’s route and curse Jimmy and Jey’s names until the breath runs clean from your lungs and you’re all hot in the face as well? Do you take Solo’s approach to things and just say…nothing? Nothing at all?

What can you possibly do to even try to rectify things for him? Make things any better than they are at this moment in time?

All of these questions and more surround your brain and hold it hostage, unable to think of anything else. Is there anything that you can do to make him feel better? You’re supposed to be his, his girl…but with something as monumentally damaging to him as tonight was, so is there anything that you can do?

You don’t even notice him making his way towards you until he’s almost directly in front of you, watching your every movement like an unbound predator stalking its oblivious prey. The room around you grows way too hot way too fast as he continues to move your way, his footsteps soft yet booming as loudly in your ears as your own heartbeat.

As he takes one step forward towards you, you take an equal one back. One step forward, one step back.

One forward, one back, and this little game of yours goes on and on and on until you’re cornered up against the furthest wall, Roman’s hands pressing against the wall at the sides of your face. His chest nearly touches yours in the process and its rise and fall nearly matches the way your own does but you hold your breath and pray to the gods.

For what, you wonder?

For solace? For comfort? For a way out from his grasp, or a way to sink further beneath it? Space to breathe or to suffocate in all that is Roman Reigns? Entirely everything from him and absolutely nothing of him all at once? You don’t even know for sure but unfortunately, those prayers are left unheard and unanswered.

You hear him call your name, the syllables he speaks wrapped in a depth that twists and turns your very core. He doesn’t have to say much to grab your attention, after all.

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

You can’t even bring yourself to do that, lest you wish to crumble beneath his unwavering gaze.

However, Roman is not one to take no for an answer; he never really has, especially nowadays. So when he speaks to you again, the very atmosphere of the locker room seems to shift and change under his words, underneath the dominance that is just solely and utterly him.

“I said, look at me.”

His fingers are suddenly underneath your chin, thumb and forefinger gripping it with just enough force to pull a strained noise from the back of your throat as he forcefully tilts your chin up so that you have to look up at him.

The soft gasp that you let out when you finally look up at him, into those dangerous eyes of his…you can see what it does to him by the roll of his shoulders as he stands to his full height, towering above you so much so that the too-bright lights that illuminate the locker room get blocked out.

You didn’t really get the chance to truly look at him through the monitor you were watching the match from and not even as he stampeded his way through the throngs of people all vying for his attention…but now?

Right here, in this moment, any and all words you could have possibly said to him evaporate on your tongue as your feet remain glued to the floor, your pulse thrumming through your entire body.

The wide panes of his chest stretch with each and every deep breath that he takes, his heart beating so damn loud that it fills the room and suffocates all other noise besides it. You feel the leather of his glove brushing against your chin where it wraps around his fingers, the force behind his grip being just strong enough to let you know not to mess with him.

Roman’s entire form from the waist up glistens with sweat and you can already see the soon-to-be bruises on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen already begin to show.

His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been before as he towers above you, slightly panting while his aura threatens to swallow you whole. There’s an obvious anger lingering within them, the deep-set betrayal and agony over losing his family and his undefeated streak finally sinking in along with the newfound uncertainty of the future to come…but there’s something else there in those eyes of him, something that makes sweat bead out along your brow and has your thighs clenching together as you dig your teeth into your lip so hair that it nearly bleeds.

Something more.

Roman sees this, what he does to you, and has to resist the urge to crack a smirk; you’re so easy to toy with. He can barely say a word to you, can just look at you only to have you a trembling, whimpering mess before him.

It’s reasons like these that drives his need for you so through the roof, and tonight means no different to him at all.

Just as he thought, you let out a whimper when you meet his eyes, your body threatening to go limp in his hold. His presence is just so much and it does so much more to you than you’re ever willing to say, but you absolutely love it either way.

You don’t notice him beginning to lean in closer to your own face, too stunned to even think of moving before he’s all that you can possibly see, his hair almost framing your own face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as it fans out over your face, spicy and hot and smelling of the cinnamon gum you saw him chewing earlier in the day. He tilts your face in the opposite direction, sighing as his eyes leave yours before he leans forward to press his face against the crook of your neck, burying his nose against the skin while the hand that remains on the wall curls into a fist.

Another gasp leaves your throat when he steps forward again, your hands unchelching themselves from where they rest at the hem of your - his - shirt as his chest presses against yours, warm and built and smothering in all the right places. When you raise your arms up from your sides to run your fingertips up his chest, over his shoulders, over his forearms, you can feel him just barely shiver beneath your touch.

His body calls out for you just as yours does him, and you can feel the buzz of all the energy still coursing through him, driving him up the wall as he leans further into your touch. And when you flatten your hands against his skin, the groan that he lets out rolls through our entire body, his chest vibrating against yours.

You feel him moving against your neck and you stretch further to the side to give him room, his lips forming into words that he wouldn’t dare say aloud with others nearby as his gloved hand moves from your chin to grip the base of your neck.

You know what this is, you know what this means; you’ve been here in this position before with him, especially much more recently with all of this newfound familial drama that’s dropped itself at the other end of his table.

With the seemingly endless amounts of adrenaline crawling beneath his skin, the cinching, tight feeling of his skin and the burning sensation that bubbles deep within his core, it’s no wonder why he’s cornered you like this, why he’s closing in on you, why he’s so bent on draping you in him.

I need you, baby, please.

Those spoken yet unspoken words he uttered into your skin make your eyes widen as a similar heat begins to spark within your own core, Roman trapping your leg between his own and pressing his cock against your thigh. It makes your skin crawl in the best ways possible, what he does to you, the anticipation mixed with everything that he just is making your mind hazy.

Your hands rise from his shoulders up the base of his neck, curving further up towards his hair before wrapping your fingers through it and gently pulling his head back up to face you, your eyes meeting his once more (how the hell did they manage to get even darker?).

Despite the fear that runs through your veins, despite your hands being in his hair and on his skin as you lead him towards you, he’s still the boss around here.

Roman still calls all the shots, no matter who or what stands before him - including you.

And even despite that as well, your body still wants him just as much as he wants yours.

It’s not even a want anymore; your body needs him, it desires him.

As for Roman, your body, your comfort calls out to him like a siren’s song, wanting him to pull you deeper and deeper into whatever’s going on within his own head until your entire body knows nothing but him, nothing but your Tribal Chief.

The fatigue that you know he feels is beginning to set into his bones, into his soul, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he needs you, more so than he ever has in the past.

The sparks are beginning to show between the two of you; there’s nothing in this world like spending a night with someone like Roman Reigns, and you’re about to experience that firsthand once again.

You see the slight raise of his brow as he scans your face, that miniscule action asking you for permission, for your go-ahead, for you to allow him to lose himself within you and to use you as he sees fit for the time being…

…and the nod that you give him right back is all that he needs to see.

It’s the only thing that he needs to see before surging forward to plant a searing kiss to your lips, the fist that’s curled against the wall, moving down to grip your waist as tightly as the hold he has on your neck, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt that adorns your figure.

You only get about half a second of realization before you notice that he’s on you, completely covering you with his body as he presses you up against the wall even more. Your hands move from his hair down his neck, grazing his jaw lightly before your nails begin to dig into the exposed meat of his shoulders.

He’s actively stoking the fire that’s now beginning to blaze within you, and you absolutely love it.

The leg that’s not actively trapped between his now finds itself wrapped around his waist right as Roman’s tongue slides between your lips, curling with and against your own before quickly taking over the kiss. And you let him, of course; he needs this, he needs you, and you’re willing to give him whatever’s necessary to satiate his incessant energy.

The way he knows how to pluck your body like a finely tuned instrument with the way he pulls moans and gasps from you, the drag of fabric on skin, the way his body seems to move perfectly in-sync with your own, pushing and pulling until the two of you radiate more hear than the core of the sun…there’s just something about kissing Roman that makes your toes curl and your cheeks ripe with heat just by thinking about it, let alone actually doing the deed.

It’s all fiery passion and full of the aggression he shows in the ring, the possessive nature he has over you to keep you close and a part of him always, the need to show you exactly who you belong to as he pulls you in so damn close that all you can even think to experience is just him and him alone…it’s a conglomerate mixture of beauty and pain and pleasure and you're drinking in every single drop of it.

You feel his teeth begin to sink into your bottom lip, the contact against the already red and raw flesh making you jump in his arms as he tugs on it harshly before letting go. Your eyes, hooded and blown out, meet his again, and you can practically read the words in his mind as his thumb reaches up to lightly brush over it.

You don’t get to do that, anymore. Only I can do that to you.

You watch as he thumbs over your lip again before coming back in for another kiss, your teeth nearly clashing against each other from how harsh the two of you collide. It’s messy, a battle of tongue and teeth that turns in his favor so damn fast, and you can’t resist the urge to just crumble beneath it.

Your arms loop around his neck and hold him as close to you as possible, not wanting to part from him for even a second until your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen so you’re practically forced to. But even that isn’t enough to stop the contact between the two of you, your nails digging into any piece of his exposed skin that you can possibly reach.

The smell of him fills your brain and flows through your very veins, hands holding onto you for dear life while his kiss steals all sense from your mind. Roman has always been able to do this but tonight, you lower your guards and have him take the reins (no pun intended), have him lead the way, follow his motions.

And his motions lead him to start moving backwards, pulling you away from the wall as your leg falls from his waist. Lips still furiously locked with yours, he effortlessly maneuvers the two of you away from the corner and towards a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

You thought you could feel him before while he captured you in his stare against the wall, helpless to anything but exactly what he wanted to do with you?

Well, think again.

Your pelvis presses right up against his and the two of you let out a combined moan, your breaths mixing together before he shifts you over his thighs to press you against him even more. You start rocking yourself back and forth on his cock through the dark cargo pants that he wears, feeling it throb and jump with every pass. And your desire for his grows as well, the space between your thighs growing more damp by the second with your juices beginning to now stain your inner thighs.

The small shorts that you wear underneath Roman’s large shirt soon grow more uncomfortable than you’re willing to bear and Roman seemingly notices this as well, running his thumbs over the skin above your ass before not so gently pulling them down your legs. The second you feel the hit your ankles you kick them to the floor below, not giving a damn where they land as your lips remain slotted with his own.

Your hands run down the planes of his chest and circle your fingertip over the space above Roman’s heart, feeling the thrum of energy coursing through his being. His own hands run over your thighs, over the curve of your ass and up your spine as you shift even closer to him, the feeling of your soaked panties as they rub against the bulge in his pants making you pant against his mouth.

You feel his hands drift under the hem of your shirt, the mix of his skin and the leather of the glove he still wears making sparks fly. His lips move from your own down your jaw, the force behind the action making you gasp. Across your skin and over the curve of your ear, down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbone; there’s nowhere that’s left untouched by his eager mouth while his hands roam the heated skin beneath your top.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, causing your entire body to tremble with anticipation right before you feel the sharp stinging of his teeth digging into your flesh, a moan much louder than you should have let out escaping you. Roman’s tongue joins the fray as well, soothing the sting of his bite with each one that he gives you.

One by one, one after another he lays claim to your skin, a reminder to the entire world that despite everything, that despite everyone in his life…he still has you.

He still has you and you’ve let him have you.

The need to feel him, to feel his body even more so consumes your entire mind, your soul, your being, so you take the initiative and grip the hem of your shirt and raise it up your body, pulling it over your head and tossing that to the floor alongside your discarded shorts.

The bra that covers your chest is a lacy one, the same shade of bright red that adorns the glove on his right hand that matches right along with the panties that just barely cover your ass. ‘Figured that you might need a distraction in hindsight. I hope you like it…”

Your voice is small in volume but loud in its tone as you speak, quickly glancing down at his chest where your nails dig into the meat of his pectorals as he raises his head from the crook of your neck, your skin alight and buzzing from him marking it.

Oh, he likes it, alright. He fucking loves it.

Roman’s hands reach up to trace the details in the fabric, his thumb brushing over your nipple and making you arch into his touch. His brows slightly raise with intrigue; this was probably a surprise for him later, for when he won his match…well, not anymore.

Now, the sight of you in this number, one that you had put on just for him, mixed with the need lacing your voice and the lust swimming within your vision…it’s all so much, damn near too much for him to bear, his cock now actively throbbing and throbbing in the confines of his pants.

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

His low tone shakes you right out of your lust-fueled haze, your eyes snapping open as you pant on his lap.The darkness swirling around within his eyes shows he means business and what Roman wants, Roman gets in spades.

You try your best to move from him, to escape the warmth and desire he’s so graciously provided for you in his own time of need but your methods of moving prove too slow for his tastes, Roman’s non-gloved hand reaching up to yank your head back by your roots, you yelping at the sudden pain.

“What is with you all not fucking listening to me today? I said, I want you on your goddamn knees, now.”

You try your best to nod with his hand in your hair, swallowing down the pathetic noise that threatens to break free before scrambling off his lap and sinking to your knees on the locker room floor, never once breaking eye contact with him as you begin to watch him tear his glove off. The sharp ripping of the velcro cuts through the thick fog that’s filled the air , leather being pulled between his teeth until finally, the damned thing is off and is tossed aside as well, his hand returning to the back of your neck.

Spreading his legs for you as slowly as he possibly can, he keeps your head solely directed at the intimidating bulge that lies within his pants, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his own eyes and what lies ahead for your future.

Roman’s nothing if not a beast, both in and out of the ring, and you can’t help but shudder when you gently plant your palms on the outsides of his thighs, looking up at him with the widest eyes you can possibly muster up.

You lick your lips nervously, your heart beating even faster in your chest as he literally talks down to you, your hands beginning to nervously run up his covered thighs as they make their way to his zipper.

And with each notch of its teeth that come undone, with every second that passes that turns into a minute and then to an hour, you manage to push past the nerves that run wild through your veins and undo his pants, slipping your fingers beneath the dark boxer briefs he has on and tugging them down along with his pants to reveal the true monster that lies before you.

Roman’s cock falls from its confines with a dull thud as the head connects with his stomach, leaving a clear splotch of pre-cum where it lands. 

The shape of his cock, thick as a tree trunk and just as heavy and absolutely perfect as it is…the space between your thighs aches with the countless memories you have of him fucking you senseless with it,pounding into you and making you see stars over and over again-

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do here, princess. Or, are you too much of a dumb whore to even think for yourself now?”

You blink once, twice, three times as heat rises to your face, wiping the spit that threatens to fall from the corner of your mouth before you move forward, dragging your nails along the smooth skin of his upper thigh.

And as much as he loves to mark you and lay his claim to you, you love doing the exact same thing to him as well.

You live for the hiss he lets out from the pain of your nails, your teeth on his skin and grazing his pelvis as you move closer to his cock.

Such a man, such a being before your very eyes, and he’s all yours tonight, just as you are all his.

You let your nails and the tips of your fingers drag up the sides of his shaft, the length almost as long as your entire forearm. It’s a beautiful thing to see first hand as you admire him, your touches light and fleeting as your wide eyes continue to pierce his. You watch his abdomen clench and ripple when you catch his more sensitive spots, his hips bucking when you run your hand over the large vein that runs up the side.

A smile begins to grow along your lips as you watch him, his other hand running over his face and jaw. You can’t help but to admire him like this, slowly but surely as though you have all the time in the world to do so.

But, based on the absolute storm lingering within Roman’s eyes, you can tell that he’s in no teasing mood, the hand at the back of your neck squeezing threateningly before you finally get the hint to keep fucking going.

So, you do, tightening your grip around the base of his cock and stretching your lips around the head, letting the warmth of your breath wash over it before slowly beginning to sink your mouth down on him.

And, oh, what a sight he becomes before you.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he moans, watching through hooded eyes as you manage to slide the first few inches down your throat. With your smaller hands, you can barely wrap one of them around him fully - let alone two - but you try your best anyway, making sure to jerk the parts you can’t quite reach yet.

The ache between your legs becomes too much to bear as you begin to bob your head up and down, lustily taking him in while your eyes begin to close. With skin sensitive and hot to the touch, you take one hand off of him and begin to run it down your body. Over the curves of your breasts and as they threaten to spill from your bra, down the line of your abdomen, over your pubic bone and thumbing the lining of your panties, you let out another moan when you start to grind your clit against your fingers.

You don’t think that Roman notices it, the shift in your demeanor and the way your shoulders tighten up when you slip your fingers beneath your panties, the way your breath catches and your hips jump as you tease yourself…but he does.

He always does.

“Aww, are you that desperate, baby? You couldn’t help but touch that needy little pussy of yours? I can hear it all the way up here, you’re so wet for me.”

You can practically hear his smirk while he talks, but it still makes you hot all over. Spreading your wetness over your lower lips, you spread them and rub the pad of your finger over your bare clit, your body jolting at the pleasure it spikes through you.

“You want to touch yourself, fuck yourself with those tiny fingers of yours?” he asks, seething at the feeling of your teeth grazing the vein along his shaft. “Then, go ahead. Get yourself nice and ready for me…”

“..and don’t forget about me either, sweetheart,” Roman chides, briefly pulling you from the head with a soft pop before thumbing your lower lip. “Don’t make your Tribal Chief play second best to your needy fucking cunt.”

Your thighs clench and close in around your hand, a soft “yes” falling from your open lips before he presses your face right back against his cock as you begin to take more than you did before. You try to make your mouth as slick with your own saliva as possible, stroking his shaft in tandem with the swirling of your tongue around the head.

His hand lightly connects with your cheek. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my-”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full, baby. You’re better than that.”

He glares at you as you rise from his cock again, panting softly. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he tells you, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Now, get back to work.”

The copious amounts of spit from your mouth mix with his pre-cum as your hand glides along the warm skin, the sound just as loud and slick as the ones coming from between your legs. It doesn’t take long for him to take back control, roughly guiding your lips back to his cock before letting you do what you do best.

As your throat grows accustomed to his girth, you shift yourself on your knees and slip a finger between your folds, circling your hole with it and gingerly slide it in, choking around Roman’s length in the process.

A bright flush begins to run wild under his skin as he tilts his head back, the soft sounds of his huffs and groans making the space between your thighs almost uncomfortably wet as you continue to touch yourself. His other hand runs through his hair, pulling at the roots while his face scrunches up in pleasure when you twist your fist around the head just right.

It fills you with a feeling that you can’t describe, seeing what you do to him in moments like these.

“Shit, princess, keep going…” Roman’s near breathless now, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his hips buck into your eager mouth. Eyes hooded, his attention stays on you while your own remain closed, focusing all of your energy on making sure your Tribal Chief is as primed and ready to go as you are.

You ease another finger in between your folds along with the first one and curl them as they drag along your inner walls; it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s just you because your fingers aren't his, your touch isn’t the same as his. Roman’s fingers fill you twice as much as your own do, the phantom feeling of them stretching you to the brim as they graze along that one spot wracking your body with shivers.

The room is brimming with the wet sounds of your motions, your juices dripping down the hand that remains at your core while your eager lips and tongue schlick up and down his throbbing cock, the noises coming from the both of you getting swamped in the mess of it.

The sight and sound of you struggling to take his length seems to light a fire under his ass and his grip at the back of your neck grows tighter, Roman starting to force the visible stretch of him taking over your mouth and throat even more so, bucking his hips against your face and making sure that you take what you’re given.

“Oh, you wanna please your Tribal Chief, baby? Well, then, take all of it.”

With that, you feel him wrench your head further down his shaft, your throat closing in around him and squeezing as you choke on him. The hand in your hair tightens the further down his shaft you go, your throat tightening with each and every inch you take, your gag reflex fighting for dear life as you struggle to take him fully.

The few inches you have left to go get wrapped in your fist, your fingers shiny with your spit and noisily stroking him until he presses down on the back of your head just that much more for you to 

He needs this, he needs you, and you’re going to take everything he has to give you, just like he asked.

So you brave through it, tears in your eyes with your lungs burning and begging for air, you bare through it for Roman, and the loud moan that you get from him in response makes the fire licking within your core burn all the more brighter.

You try to speak with his cock in your mouth, your garbled attempts at calling his name making him shove you further down. “Do that again, princess. Moan for me again while you get that pussy nice and ready for me.”

And moan for him you do, hearing your blood rushing through your ears as the sensing the heavy press of his hand on your neck squeeze tighter and tighter, Roman intently watching and feeling the length of his cock stretch against the walls of your throat.

It’s not long at all before you feel the telltale signs of your own orgasm approaching: the tightness coiling within your core, the curling of your toes and the pulsing in your abdomen, the sweat beginning to bead on your brow, the way that the pace of your hand around his cock and the hand between your legs seems to uptick bit by bit as the seconds go by…

You’re not at all shocked that Roman catches whiff of this too, hearing the now sped-up sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over again as you soak your panties clean through. “Don’t you dare cum, don’t you dare fucking cum. Only I can make you do that, you got that? Me, not those pathetic fucking fingers of yours.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice is muffled and your throat strains while you attempt to speak as you try your best to breathe through your nose, feeling lightheaded the more you try.

But his words make you feel not and sensitive all over, the hairs on your arms raising as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, gasping when he lifts your head from the base to tightly wrap his fist around it.

“Fuck!” you hear Roman yell before his hand tightens around your hair again, yanking your mouth clean off his cock, drops of spit and his pre-cum dripping down his shaft and catching the too-bright lights of the locker room. You sit before him panting and wheezing, taking in precious breaths of air as you cough and open your now tear-filled and blurry eyes for him.

Your throat and your chest burn from the abuse they’ve taken, the back of your head and neck sore from all of his manhandling while your knees ache from the carpet on the floor of the locker room digging into your skin…but you know that he still needs you, because he’s not done with you yet.

You try to wipe your mouth clean of the mess, your makeup now completely smudged and running down your face as the mix of your saliva and his cum drips from your chin and stains the bra you wear but he doesn’t allow it, taking your chin in his hands and leaning forward off the bench to steal your precious breath away once more with a kiss so fiery that it ignites a fire within you from the inside out.

“Get on your back,” he growls, hand creeping up the sides of your neck and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need to see how ready for me you are.”

Slowly, you pull your hand from your ruined panties and tug them off your legs, kicking the damp scrap of fabric to the side where the remainder of your clothes lie just as he stands from the bench, towering over you and staring down at you menacingly. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and shimmy it down over your arms, the nearly ruined item soon following all of the other clothes you’ve discarded until you’re finally exposed to his wandering, hungry eyes.

That’s the push that he needs to trail after you as you spread your legs for him, the sounds of him languidly stroking his cock to the sight of you teasing yourself with the wetness that stains your hand.

And what lies in front of you is just as godly, the sight of him shuffling his pants down his thighs and exposing the beautiful tanned skin that you just had your palms running over, stroking himself to the sight and sound of you pleasing yourself with flushed cheeks and the marks from your nails covering his chest and shoulders…the whine you let out cuts through the air and you can’t resist the urge to reach out to him, to call to him and bring him to you-

“You get what I give you, baby, when I want to give it to you and how I want to give it to you. Not when and how you want.”

Roman kneels to your height, his knees hitting the locker room floor with a dull thud and begins to stalk towards you, sirens wailing off inside your mind right as he crawls over your body looking every inch the beast that he claims to be.

“Roman,” you mewl, feeling him run his palms up the flushed skin of your legs. His hand latches onto your wrist and pulls it from between your thighs, holding it up to the light and watching your juices drip from your fingers before slipping them into his own mouth.

You watch as his lips close in over them, his tongue swirling around them to catch every last drop of your essence before slipping them from his mouth with a dark grin. Your aroma, now more potent than ever, fills his lungs with every single breath he takes, even more now with the taste of your arousal staining his tongue.

Every nerve and thought in his body roars at him, screams and demands for him to bend you over and fill you with his cum, to take you over and over again until everyone in this entire goddamn arena knows exactly who the hell you’re with, you’re spending your time with and who’s dealing with you.

Paul, Solo, Jimmy, Jey…they’ll all know exactly who the fuck runs things in this little circle of theirs, this fight for true and utter control.

And it will happen, you just have to wait a tad bit longer for it.

You’re so warm as you lie beneath him, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs as you wait in ample anticipation for his next move. Brushing his hair back with one hand, he slowly runs them up your body, over your plush thighs and past your dripping core that beckons him in closer.

Over your waist and up your chest until he takes your breasts in his hands and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on them and twisting them until you cry out his name.  The pain makes sparks ignite in your core and Roman refuses to let up on his hold despite the noise, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting down on it as he plays with the other one.

Those hands of his, the same ones that bring you pleasure are the  same ones that have brought his own family pain, and that thought is not lost on Roman as he continues to play with you, reveling in the litany of pitiful noises leaking from your trembling lips.

He will not show you the same pain that his cousins brought onto him, nor that he had brought to them.

For you, things are…different.

You’ll never leave his side at the head of the table, never abandon him for some other, higher purpose; you’ve said so yourself before tonight many a time.

Your legs wrap around his waist and lock him in as you dig your nails into the carpet you lay on, it already starting to dig into your skin. But you need more from him; more of him on you, around you, more of his touch and his mouth and his cock, just more.

With your feet, you try your best to shove his pants down further over his ass and down his legs, only managing to get so far before he stops you with a firm yet quick slap to your ass.

He doesn’t even have to remove his mouth from your breast to tell you anything, glaring up at you while his tongue laves away at your nipple before moving away from it and suctioning his mouth onto the other.

Your entire body trembles; what does he have planned next for you? What more could he possibly pull from you as he manhandles your body, squeezing and grasping at you like you’re going to somehow sink into the floor if he removes himself from you?

And then all of your questions are answered when you see him rise from your chest, his lips plush and a shade of bright red as a thin line of his saliva connects them to your breast before it snaps. You feel him press down on your waist, making you relax further against the floor until he wraps his hands around your ankles and begins to fold your legs into your chest, your knees grazing your face just so.

“Hold them,” you hear Roman say damn near under his breath, the depth in his voice making you whine as you wrap your hands under your knees to keep your legs raised. The trembling of your body increases as your anticipation grows and everything in your body tells you to close your eyes and look away from him, but you just can’t.

He’s beautiful in the way he gazes down at you, zeroing in on the way the walls of your cunt clench around nothing and shine with your arousal under the light, licking his lips like a caged animal. He might as well be one anyway with the possessive nature that consumes him when he has you, when he’s with you.

A hitch in your breath comes and goes when he moves even closer, gripping his cock firmly with one hand before using the other to spread your lower lips, the sound of him spitting on them reaching your ears before you feel it. It’s slick, it’s obscenely nasty as he swipes his cock head through the glistening mess, spreading the wetness around even more so as to get you as well as possible before you feel the hefty warmth of the head slapping against your folds.

The weights of it, and the thought of what’s to come have you arching your back into the sensation, desperate to reach your hands up to grip him and pull him into you, to have them just get it over with already and to make you see stars. And you do flex your fingers in his direction, squeezing the space beneath your knees and spreading your legs further for him to tease and prod at you while he just stares on with a smirk slowly beginning to grow along his face.

“Patience, baby, patience,“ Roman murmurs, sliding the head of his cock through your folds and nudging your button with it. The action sends a bolt of lightning jolting up your spine, causing you to dig your fingers into the flush of your lower thighs, and toss your head to the side with a small whine.

“Please, Roman, I need it. I need you, just fuck me, please –“

He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips before slipping his thumb between them. You instinctively wrap them around the digit and pull it in deeper with your tongue, swirling the muscle around it before he slowly but surely post it out. “I said to have patience, baby girl, so don’t be greedy. Just lay back, be a good girl, and take what your Tribal Chief gives you.“

He ends his sentence by dragging that wet thumb over your lips, down your chin, and rests harshly against your clit, grinding his shaft against your folds as he plays with you. You feel like your heart is about to fly out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, watching as he moves even closer to you and presses himself even harder against you.

“Nice and wet for me, princess…you did good for me back there.” You revel in the small bit of praise, a ghost of a smile floating over your lips until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing up against your entrance. “You still ready for me?”

You can’t nod your head fast enough. “Yes, please. Roman, I’m ready for you, I’m ready-”

At the feeling of him finally stuffing you full of his cock, his chest keeping pressure on the backs of your legs and folding further into yourself, tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes at the newfound pressure.

The familiar burn of Roman pushing into you but by bit, inch by gloriously thick inch, has you itching to latch onto him in any way that you possibly can - and you eventually do, removing your hands from holding your legs to placing them on Roman’s shoulders as soon as he gets close enough.

That fire he had stoked inside of you now grows to an inferno the more of himself he bullies into you, stretching you out to fit his cock just right is making your mind hazy. The quick and constant fluttering of your walls around him makes him groan, dropping his head to your knee.

Your nerves fry and your eyes cross as he continues to move, every single wall within you absolutely crumbling because of it. And It feels like forever and a day has passed before he eventually bottoms out inside you for the first time tonight as you nearly lose your mind on his cock, your toes starting to curl and your thighs flexing.

The guttural moan that leaves Roman’s chest rocks you to your very core, the sound of the wetness between your legs and the pressing of him against your ass turning your insides to mush. One of his hands rests at your waist and keeps you close, his body leaning on your own so much that his nose just barely brushes against yours.

You whine his name, the shrill noise and the desperate look in your eyes turning all dials up to eleven. The huffs and small moans leaving your throat, your body already run ragged before he’s really gotten the chance to fuck you senseless yet…it all just makes him want to ruin you even more.

He can’t figure out where to keep his eyes; he wants to look at all of you, from the way your chest heaves and your breasts move from your breaths to the way your pulse jumps at the vein in your neck to the apex of your thighs where your arousal stains and sticks to the skin of his pelvis, there’s almost too many options for him.

But when you squeeze down his shoulders and bring his attention back to the feeble look in your eyes, he can’t help but toss his head back and sigh because look at you, with your lip quivering just as much as your cunt is and the way you gently thump your head against the carpeted floor as his hand runs over your abdomen and presses against the outline his cock made inside you.

His ears fill with the sounds of your sex, your legs seemingly permanently glued to his chest while he wraps an arm around them, keeping you right where he wants you as his hips begin to move.

And the slide of him moving back and forth along your walls, his hips pulling back from your ass and dragging the head of his cock back towards your clit before moving back in just as slowly causes your entire lower body to twitch.

“Roman…Roman, please,” you beg him. You don’t even know what you’re even begging him for anymore: for more? For him to pick up his achingly slow pace? For him to close the distance between his mouth and yours so you can taste him all over again?

But he doesn’t appeal to your cries nor does he break when you seem to grow even wetter for him as he begins to thrust in and out, back and forth, dragging your hips higher into the air and folding you even further into yourself.

He still, however, refuses to look anywhere else other than at your face, in your eyes as he rolls his hips into you, dead set on ever single noise and jerking movement your body gives him.

His brow furrows; how could he not look at you when you’re like this, mouth wide open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth, pointed in the air as it tries to lick at his lips while you fan the flames of the fire you’re sparked inside of him?

You try your best to rock your hips in tandem with his own, bucking them as best you can whenever his pelvis meets your own and he bottoms out inside you. You can feel the head of his cock grazing that sweet spot along your walls, almost kissing your cervix every single time he bears down on you. His weight strains the muscles at the back of your legs when he pulls forward every time but you don’t care, you don’t care because all that matters is him and how well he fills you.

Roman doesn’t speak a word to you, only letting out groans and grunts with the occasional low-toned moan for your ears only, but everything that you hear makes your entire body vibrate with a deeper need. 

Eventually, his pace does begin to increase, the erotic melody of his hips tap, tap, tapping against yours growing into him beginning to use his true power to make you cry out. And cry out you do, your brain now clouded with innsense waves of pleasure as your screams for more grow in volume.

You don’t even attempt to lower your volume and neither does he, not caring about whoever may be listening in from outside the no-that-far-away locker room door - and in the back of your mind, your last shred of sentience thanks Roman for preemptively locking it when everyone else had left.

The force behind his thrusts leaves you absolutely breathless as you stare helplessly into his eyes, moans and huffs flowing from your lips like a waterfall while the pleasure in your core ticks up bit by bit.

The faster he pounds into you and the longer he goes on, the more your walls close in around him like a warm, silken vice, your cunt tightening in around him and not letting him go at all. Your pleasure spikes when he moves his hand down slightly to pinch your clit, making you jolt as you arch your back as best you can.

The rug beneath you scratches against your skin as he runs you ragged on top of it, your shoulder blades and the top of your back taking the brunt of the burn. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you squeeze them closed, but the sharp sting of Roman’s hand coming down on your clit snaps them right back open again.

You hiss at the pain but it all just melts right back into pleasure all over again and it doesn’t escape his keen eyes, his flat of his hand coming down on the button over and over again. And you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down his arms as your nerves flare all through your body.

The telltale signs of your impending orgasm are clear to you both: the dilation in your eyes, the way your thighs stretch and quake as he presses down on them and how quickly you begin to pant.

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

The feeling of Roman’s hand sliding up your chest and around your neck cuts you off, your breath hitching and your eyes widening. “You need what, baby? Don’t go all shy on me now? Or have I fucked all the sense out of you already?”

He sneers and squeezes the sides of your throat, making you gasp. “You get to cum when I say that you can, when I give you the go ahead…you understand me? Hmm? Nod your head for me, baby girl.”

You follow his orders to a tee, staving off your looming orgasm by trying to focus on something, anything that’s not the pulsating feeling between your legs or the way he drives his cock into you, the build-up in his pace doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

“R-Roman…” Your voice is weak behind the grip of his hand, his thumb brushing along the front of your throat and pressing down.

“Not yet, baby girl. I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Each word he speaks is enunciated by a powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each one. “Don’t you want to be good for me? Don’t you want to please your Tribal Chief?”

Your voice is soft when you attempt to answer him, crying out “yes, yes I do” as he plows into you harder than before, your back now actively rubbing against the coarse carpet every time Roman’s pelvis connects with yours.

He groans when he looks into your watery eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears and spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your face is a mess, your entire body is flushed right with heat, you look a mess, and it’s all because of him.

Your blubbering and the tears that flow from your eyes do something fierce to him as his own orgasm begins to crest, the way your walls grip his shaft driving him absolutely mad with desire. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting go, the sharp pain making him curse as his hips begin to stutter.

“Shit!” he yells, abruptly tearing his cock from you with a wet squelch, your arousal dripping from the head and staining the carpet. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he grips the base of his cock in his fist again before leaning in to plant a furious kiss to his lips, stealing what little breath you have left away once more.

It’s all teeth and tongue and fiery passion that stokes the already blazing inferno within your soul and when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs on it, it hurts so good that you whine against his lips and arch into his touch when he pulls away.

Your voice is weak and slightly hoarse when you ask, “Roman?”

“Over the bench, baby. I want you on your hands and knees when I cum inside you.”

That steely gaze from before makes its return and you visibly cower beneath it, standing on shaky legs as you make your way over to one of the nearby benches before draping your weary and sensitive body over it. You feel exposed in this position - even more so due to the fact that you can’t even see him when he pulls the globes of your ass apart to gaze at how slick and messy you’ve become due to his actions.

His hand comes down on the skin and you jolt, scrambling to grab the cold wood of the bench before he does it again…and again.

And again and again as the sharp, stinging pain rings proud and true all over the meat of your ass, heat blooming beneath the skin and radiating off of it. Roman’s hand comes down on one, then the other, and then spreads them with one hand to deliver another blow right to your sensitive folds, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream that has you nearly bolting off the bench.

“Stay still,” he tells you, his chest rumbling as he lays a more firm slap on your ass, another whimper slipping from you. “You only move when I tell you to move, baby girl.”

Roman continues to lay blow after blow to your ass and now to your achingly wet folds, rutting his cock against you as you grind back against him, More tears leak from your eyes as the stinging pain begins to melt into aching pleasure, a litany of broken moans and sobs passing through your lips right before he slides his cock right back inside you.

He meets no resistance and his hips meet yours damn near instantly, picking up his brutal pace right where he left off while you gasp for air. It’s like you can feel his cock all the way in your lungs with how deep he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting sticky skin bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Your chest presses firmly against the bench, your breasts aching from how firmly he holds your hips against it while his pace goes into overtime. Everyone outside be damned, the noises leaving your mouth couldn’t be silenced even if the damn door was broken down.

The sounds of his name and cries for more fill his ears and he drifts a hand up your back, trailing his fingers up your spine before wrapping his hand in your hair and yanking your head back against his chest.

“That’s it, scream for me,” you hear him say in your ear, the drop in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You feel his lips trace the shell of your ear, biting down on it and then moving down to your jaw. His other hand grasps your chin and pulls your head to the side, his teeth grazing the side of your neck before he sinks his teeth into it.

And the yell that you let out because of it almost rattles the very walls that surround you as you weakly reach your arms back behind your head and wrap them around his own neck, keeping his head there as he plows into you. Your hips ache, your ass fucking burns from his pelvis colliding against it, everything on your body stings and aches and hurts but you love it, you love it all.

You can feel the marks and bruises that his hands,his lips, his teeth leave on your body already begin to bruise, and you can already tell that the ones staining your ass are going to make it hard to sit down or even walk for days to come…

But you’ll wear those marks, those bruises, you’ll wear everything with your head held high and with pride in your eyes because despite all that Roman’s faced these past few months, he still has you willingly and wholly and wholeheartedly.

The sweet kiss of your orgasm comes to fruition again and you can feel that wave begin to crest over; you won’t be able to last much longer if he keeps going at the pace he’s at right now, your toes curling as you dig your own nails into his scalp to pull his head from your neck. You instinctively squeeze around his cock, feeling his balls slap against your clit over and over again and making you jump and jolt around.

“R-Roman, please, ’m gonna…, I need to, please-”

He can’t help but groan as he roughly kisses the side of your head, holding your beginning-to-go-limp upper body close to his chest. “Fuck me, baby, you’re gonna cum? You’re gonna soak my cock and stain the floor?”

You feel him smile against your cheek when you nod. “I feel you clenching around me, princess, so why don’t you be a good girl for your Tribal Chief and cum for me? I want this pussy sloppy fucking wet by the time I’m done with you.”

The weight of him against your back side, the way he slips a hand between your legs and begins to play with your clit again, furiously rubbing the bud between his fingers as he pumps his hips even faster…it has your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you pant like a bitch in heat, Roman playing you like a finely tuned instrument and pushing all of the right buttons.

It all comes to a head when he starts to murmur in your ear,words and wishes of how he’s going to fill you up just like how you want and leave you dripping full of his cum all over the floor by the time the night ends, firmly grasping your breast with his other hand and twisting your nipple fiercely.

Blood rushes to your ears so damn fast that you can just barely hear the words that leave his lips but once you do…oh, the reaction that he gets has him cheesing something fierce, those sharp teeth of his bared for the whole world to see.

Your entire body shakes, completely vibrates with the need to cum as you fly closer and closer to that edge, clinging to Roman for dear life - but not before he tilts your head to the side and kisses you so passionately that you fall limp in his hold, his tongue meshing together with yours.

“Don’t hold yourself back anymore, baby girl. Cum for me, cum for me now-”

He speaks against your lips and your inner walls give way to your orgasm, that wave cresting and your body bending along with it as you soak his cock with a cry so loud that it rings louder in your ears than your bloodrush does. Your heart feels as though it’s about to leap through your chest and out of your mouth, your hands drifting from his hair and your arms wrapping around his neck behind you.

You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as it presses against your back and it’s just as fast as yours, and a final high pitched moan escapes your mouth as you soak his cock completely, his hips stuttering against yours while his thrusts begin to slow.

You audibly moan at the warmth that fills your core when you feel him jut his hips against yours and stays there, fully inserted within you as his own climax takes the reins.

It feels like a punch square to his gut when his cock throbs against that sweet spot that lines your walls, his resolve crumbling and his mind going blank for a few seconds. “Fuck,” Roman groans, the sound rumbling through your whole body as you feel him paint your walls with his cum, the head of his cock pressing snugly against your cervix while he grips your flesh and digs his fingers in wherever he can put them.

Your thighs, your chest, your waist, your neck, it doesn’t matter; at the end of the night, your entire body is going to be covered in his marks, whether you like it or not.

Your brain is scrambled and he rests his head on top of yours, massaging your clit to get the final jitters of your orgasm out of you before he finally lets you breathe. Your vision remains blurry from a mix of how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and from the tears that still linger within it, your face remains a stained mess from your destroyed makeup, and you don’t even want to talk about the state that your hair resides in…but in this moment, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

For now, he simply cradles your trembling body to his chest, his cock still snug along your inner walls as he rocks his body against yours; over and over again, calming the rocky waves of your climaxes - both yours and him - as he begins to take his own breath and takes the first seconds of the night to finally think about the events that have occurred.

His blood, his closest family has betrayed him, left him in the dirt and dust and tossed him aside…and now all that he has left is you.

You and the strength, the stability, the everything that’s left of his Bloodline reside within you, and he can’t let you go.

He just can’t.

He won’t let you go, not now and not ever…not after everything tonight.

As time passes and when he doesn’t speak, you take the first steps. “...Roman? Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse and your throat dry from all of your screaming.

“Please…” you hear him whisper against your back, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he pants, still coming down from the force of his orgasm. “Please…don’t leave.”

Please don’t leave me.

And hearing that, hearing his voice crack slightly as his lips move from the nape of your neck upwards, curving up towards your jawline and around the shell of your ear…it breaks you, it utterly breaks something within your soul.

As you think back to the previous weeks, you could already see the threads of dissension within the eyes of Solo, the traps being laid by The Usos to bring the young man closer to their side and away from Roman’s.

The true and final nail in the coffin of the Bloodline, the removal of the Samoan Enforcer, the last shred of foundation that holds this entire empire of Roman’s together…you can feel it in his every motion, every single press of his fingers against your skin, every pull of his arms as he brings you in further and further to his own body: he’s terrified of losing everything, everything that he has left, everything that he is.

“I won’t, Roman,” you tell him, curling your body against his, allowing him to surround you with everything that he has and everything that he’s willing to give you. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave, I promise.”

A few moments pass, and what precious moments they are. No words are spoken, barely any movements are made aside from the slight rocking of his hips against your own and the heaving of your chests as you both breathe, just…nothing.

A good nothing.

A good nothing that allows you both to just be in touch with yourselves and with each other.

After those few moments pass, you speak to him again, gently running your fingertips over his forearms. “Look, we’ll forge a new Bloodline, okay? Together. You and me and Paul and Solo-”

Roman buries his face in your hair at the mention of Solo’s name, taking a deep breath in of a scent that’s just entirely you mixed with tinges of him…a perfect combination, the perfect combination.

“If we can’t rely on your family to maintain this faction, this dynasty…then we’ll make a new one of our own. Bigger and better and more powerful than Jimmy and Jey could ever comprehend.”

A tense silence follows your words before Roman finds his own to respond.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your head, another kiss being pressed to your hair as he thinks. You’re right, after all.

If his own family won’t stand at his side, if he can’t rely on his own bloodline…then you two will create your own dynasty…together.

And together, the two of you will take down and dismantle whatever is left of Jimmy and Jey, for all of the new hell that they’ve now brought upon themselves.

And that’s not a threat, Roman thinks to himself as he curls his body around yours against the cool floor of the locker room, not wanting to get up nor remove himself from the comfort and relief that you provide him.

That’s a fucking promise.

“So..can I get my clothes now? And, are we gonna get up and unlock the door, or…?”

You feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, his smile against your skin growing just that bit wider. “Nah, they can all wait a few more minutes. Besides…”

“...I’m not finished with you just yet.”

Oh, fuck…

Tag List:

@auraravenora77 @stargazerofgoldenwords @writinglionqueen @axelwolf8109 @adampage @doctorbrittbaker @neversatisfiedgirl @atiny-angel @reci24 @brownblackbeautiful @glowingz @lemonjvicey @moxxieswitchblade @beardedbarba @annoyedkayah2395 @theworldofotps @gold--gucciempress @shanie-is-komania @jazzy-tzw @colesterstrudel @claymorexpunisher @dori-the-rwby-addict @thephoenixreaper @thepalaceofmelanie @mistress-to-the-moon @sassymox @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @lynsrosegarden @thatpanpal @new-zealand-chic @auburnwrites @deepdisireslonging @bigpsychicbagelauthor @shortyiceheart @demonslunacy @snarkandsarcasmftw @thatnerdwriter @scuzmunkie @taryn-dibiase @luciddrreamss @xfirespritex @itsreigns @officialbroski10-blog @new-zealand-chic @rowinathequeenofpersia @roofgeese @p0is0nl0ve @flawlessglamazon @dreamlesswonder86

please please please lmk if i missed anyone (on the tag list) and lmk if you wanna be added to it/removed from it! tysm and have a blessed one 😘✌🏾

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Oh, how I've missed your amazing work! This was so visceral and intense, and every emotion and sensation could be felt. Fantastic!

I believe you dropped this, Queen. 💖

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Just posted the Roman fic if you wanna read it!

I'm ready 😊

[retro-rezz-the-est]

“Wise man…”

All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.

“Leave us.”

That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”

“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”

His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.

“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.

“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief when the proper time arrives. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”

Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…

…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a snippet (i guess????) of the Roman fic i'm cooking up rn (it should be dropping by early next week at the latest lol)

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

I'm so ready for this. ❤️

[writinglionqueen]

Why Does My Heart Cry

Keep reading

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

I know this wouldn't actually happen in your series (thank goodness!), but it still hurts. This would definitely be the catalyst that sends the King over the edge. It's good to see you writing again 😊

[daemonismguide]

Daemon Au guide

Daemon AUs were inspired by the book series His Dark Materials, by Philip Pullman. You might have watched the movie The Golden Compass, or the tv show His Dark Materials. Pullman himself was inspired by the ancient greek practice of daemonism.

Daemon AUs got popularized in fanfic following the books, since they are essentially about talking animal familiars. Thinking of that, I decided to make this guide, to inspire new ideas for your fandoms and fics

Here's some trivia from the series, which you can pick and choose from at your own tastes when making your AUs.

- Daemons are the physical manifestation of a person's soul.

- A daemon's personality is influenced by their human's subconscience, and is often a balance of the human's personality. For exemple, someone more outgoing might have a daemon who is more shy.

- When you're kids, it changes forms between various animals. As you mature into adulthood, it settles on a single one and never changes again. The age can vary from individual, but it's a milestone of growing up.

- The species of the animal they settle as is a metaphor for their person's personality. You can make much symbolism about that.

- Daemons have more fantasy-sounding names that are very different from human names, and often have lots of meaning.

- The parent's daemons name the child's daemons.

- Daemons are usually the opposite gender as their human, but that is not a rule.

- Daemons can talk. Their main role is to talk to and advise their humans.

- Daemons will usually only talk to their humans or between other daemons, but it's not forbidden for a daemon to talk to another human.

- They are not actual animals, and therefore not driven by animal instincts, but they can have animal abilities like hearing, smelling, etc.

- Daemons can't be too far apart from their humans, they walk together at all times.

- When you hurt a daemon, it's human feels the same pain, and vice versa.

- When you kill a daemon, it's human also dies, and vice versa.

- It's the biggest taboo in the series to touch a daemon who is not your own - but sometimes the AUs adapt it to being lesser degrees of serious, or to mean a shared moment of deep intimacy. You can decide what it means for your AUs.

Attention: from here on, the list is heavily taken from the books' lore and worldbuilding, so it may contain spoilers.

- The HDM series has a multiverse that can be travelled across, and the world where people have daemons is only one of those universes.

- Characters from worlds without daemons will get their own if they travel to one who has.

- Daemons, are made of Dust - the most basic subatomic particles that also constitute the universes, and they grant sentience and drive to living beings. When when they die, the daemons scatter away into a pile of Dust.

- There is a ritual that makes it possible for people to walk apart from their daemons. In the series, the Witches do it as a tradition, even if it's described as being very emotionally painful. But then once it happens it's over, though.

- Another way to do it is separating from your daemon while a living person at the Land of the Dead - the dimension all people go when they die, and where daemons are not allowed.

- The ritual of separation is different than cutting off someone's daemon. In this case, the soul is separated from the body, rendering both human and daemon mindlessly traumatized, never able to be a full, complete being again.

[moonlitleoo-deactivated20260111]

You heathens will NOT have me thirsting for priest!Finn.

[retro-rezz-the-est]

i think @neversatisfiedgirlfics has some lovely things you can read on said priest!Finn 👀👀👀👀

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Heart Strings

Pairing: Damian Priest x female!Reader

Word Count: 7,073 (talk about a comeback lmao)

so @kalliravenne challenged me to write an incubus!D. Priest fic with hints of darkness and dream fuckery....and i think/hope i achieved that.....

this is also the first thing that i've written in the past year and a half so it's bound to be a bit more than rusty but regardless, i hope you enjoy it!!! much love <3

(also this was supposed to be short but managed to be long as shit with hella filler. so read as you will lmao XD)

For as long as you could remember, the club you worked at was always packed, booked, and busy on Halloween nights. How could it not be? A decent enough drink at a less-than-decent establishment with a pretty bad good chance of going home with someone you’ll forget in the next twenty-four hours? What could be better this time of year?

The line already started to curve around the block, with girlfriends dragging along their boyfriends, girl friends having a fun night out with their girl friends, and lonely twenty-somethings just wanting to get their rocks off. You rolled your eyes at the sight as you slipped through the “employee’s only” entrance and dropped your bag inside your locker in the backroom lounge. 

The place was damp, the neon lights were shitty, the bar was sticky with gum and drinks you couldn’t quite scrub out, and the walls were covered in graffiti and scrawled-on phone numbers and who knows what else…but you couldn’t help but smile as you filed in behind your coworkers because it was home, your home for the past few years.

“Hey!” one of your coworkers yelled from across the room, calling your name and rushing towards you in a cloud of gold and glitter. “Where’s your costume? Kevin wanted all of us to get into the holiday spirit tonight.”

You dropped your bag into your locker before reaching inside and pulling out a plastic bag. As much as you loved your boss for tolerating you all these years and keeping you hired, he always had a flare for dramatics that was incredibly extra. He had texted every one of your coworkers that you were required to dress up for tonight’s holiday festivities and then proceeded to - at least, to your knowledge - doused the insides of the club with so many cheap Halloween decorations that you’re sure he ran the local party store fresh out of their stock for the next year.

“I know, Cynthia,” you told her, pulling out a small wire halo and angel wings covered in white and silver feathers. “Can’t you tell what I’m gonna be?” You plastered on a smile and gestured down to your all-white party dress and heels.

“You never wear all white, though…” She gasped. “Are you an angel?”

“Exactly, and you are…?”

“Cleopatra, silly!” she smiled, giving you a twirl, the glitter adorning her bodice and skin spreading everywhere. “I’m gonna be by the door handing out flyers and stuff for the dance competition later, so I gotta look cute and eye-catching somehow.”

Cynth gave you a wink before rushing back off to finish her makeup, her beaded headpiece clacking away and making you smile softly before you slipped on your own accessories over your “costume”. The heels you wore were just for show, after all, just for showing Kevin that you actually tried to put some effort in for tonight.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, forcing a smile onto your face as you stumbled your way past your coworkers and through the back of the club, finally pulling back the curtain that lead into the main dancefloor.

The swirling neon spotlights damn near blinded you when you emerged, the DJ already setting up hisetlist for the night as mini pumpkin, ghost and other Halloween confettis absolutely littered the floor. There was orange and black confetti coming down from the ceiling, giant bat stickers on the walls, orange and green glowsticks linen the floors….there were even Halloween themed condoms in a cup by the bathrooms in case there were any rowdy couples who can’t keep it in their pants.

Kev really went all out this year, huh, but guess who has to clean all of this up later tonight, you thought to yourself, silently cursing your boss before taking your place behind the bar and pulling out the foam slides you always hid below the glasses, immediately slipping off your heels and sliding them on with a sigh of relief.

You always leave your space tidy and well-kept despite how crappy it may look at first glance; you always kept your glasses cleaned, your multiple bar towels ready for the multiple accidents that always seem to happen on the other side, your tumblers are always together and you always restock your various liquors weekly. It’s your home away from home, your place to control and dictate.

You were cleaning off some glasses nearby with one of your bar towels, trying to shoulder one side of your angel wings back onto place when the music really started to kick up, the bass hitting you all the way in the back just as the front doors opened and the flood of people started filling the space.

In a matter of minutes, both the main dancefloor and the smaller second floor were full of eager partygoers looking for a good time, the air around the bar already feeling hot and stuffy from the bodies packed against each other.

Speaking of, the bar was packed with people looking forward to their first drink out of many of the night, each person and group shouting off what drinks, cocktails and mocktails they wanted off the Halloween menu Kev had you create and memorize the week prior.

But you’ve always loved a challenge, and tonight proved no different.

You never knew what kind of people you were going to get as you threw your bar towel over your shoulder and began taking orders, jotting them down with the person’s description on the small notepad you kept in the side cabinet. Some nights it was mainly loners, drifters who couldn’t quite find their crowd, sometimes it was scared twenty-one year-olds getting dragged along with their older friends as they threw literally every high-alcohol content drink that you had down their throats, and other times it was creeps who couldn’t quite keep their eyes in their heads and their hands to themselves.

But something deep within your mind told you otherwise; it told you that tonight would be…different. Something told you that tonight would finally make you feel something.

Yeah, right, you scoffed, reaching for your glasses and getting ready for the long night ahead. Like that’ll ever happen.

He’s eyeing you again, you could tell.

Even with your back to him as you reached for the top-shelf bourbon, you could tell.

The same shiver is rolling up your spine just like it had the previous three times beforehand since he entered the club. Your pulse thrummed loudly in your veins, mostly because of the cheesy dubstep flowing from the Dj’s speakers but partly because of….him.

You had dubbed him Mister Tall, Dark, and…Tall. One, due to the very clear foot he had over you in height - you could tell even from all the way across the room and through a sea of people - and two, because of his costume…or lack thereof, to be precise.

He was dressed in all black from what you could see, save for the plastic red devil horns one of your coworkers was giving out to people who were looking “a little less than festive”, in their words. The various rings and chains that adorned his fingers, his jacket, the chain that dipped down below his clavicle, all the way down those long legs to his boots glinted as the club lights danced over him.

His hair was long, slicked back into a low ponytail with the sides shaved and from what you could see from your position, your eyes trailed up his chest and neck at the various tattoos that lied there.

You don’t remember him coming down to the bar for a drink but he was nursing one anyway, one leg hitched up on the wall behind him as he leaned back and took a sip, that blank expression of his never changing throughout the whole night.

There was always someone at his side trying to chat him up, though. Some lonely guy or girl saddling up next to him, lightly dragging their finger over his slightly exposed chest and leaning against his arm before whispering something in his ear - probably about how they should just get out of here and rock his world in the alley behind the club.

And every single time, they would leave disappointed with their tail tucked between their legs and pouted lips, the dark sunglasses he wore never shifting from his face as he waved them off his shoulder.

In another life, maybe you would be one of them; eager to get a taste, only to be rejected and come to the bar to drown your sorrows in booze…but not tonight.

Despite his eyes being covered, you could feel the weight of his stare drawing over your figure; over your shoulders, your chests, your waist and stomach, over the curve of your ass and your thighs whenever you would turn around to get something on the shelves behind you.

And what’s worse, Mister Tall, Dark, and Tall over there had an aura, a vibe around him that made you feel.

And you haven’t felt for anyone in who-knows-how-long.

Feeling for people doesn’t last with you, not after the last time….

You looked down and began wiping away the various spills and forgotten napkins people had left on the bar, feeling his gaze grow stronger and stronger by the second. You felt exposed in a way, almost as though he was sizing you up for some reason.

It was only for a second but you had reached under the bar to grab a fresh towel, and as soon as you reemerged…he was there, leaning against your bar with one hand around his glass and the other reaching into his jacket pocket for something.

And, to be frank, it scared the shit out of you.

“Jesus, fuck!” you yelled, damn near smashing your foot against the leg of the stool you have behind the bar when you jumped back, causing him to slowly turn around to face you. “You damn near gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“My bad,” he apologized, placing his now empty glass on the bar in front of him. “Didn’t mean to startle you.” You were right; he was tall as hell, towering a foot or so above you with an aura strong enough to nearly plant you on your ass again.

And, holy fuck, his voice. Erotic audios don’t have shit on the deep timber this guy’s voice has, the brief words he spoke to you rolling over your body like the world’s best weighted blanket and keeping you rooted to him as such.

You placed your hand over your chest, willing your heartbeat to go down as you threw the fresh bar towel over your shoulder, letting out a breath. “You can’t just sneak up on people like that, you know.”

He shrugs. “That’s just how I am, angel. Gotta keep the mystery up somehow.”

“Angel?”

He gestured to your now crooked halo and the fluffy wings at your back, a smirk gracing his lips. “A fitting nickname for a woman cute enough to be one in the flesh.”

“Smooth,” you replied, reaching over to pull his glass closer to you, turning around to face the wall of liquor behind you. “What’s your poison, then? How can this angel bless you tonight?”

You couldn’t tell, but a darkness glazed over his eyes when you said that, making him bite his lip and eye you up and down. “Two fingers of wihskey for me, please. Fireball, if you have it.”

Now, that surprised you. “Fireball? Straight? You drink that stuff?” You shuddered. You and the fiery cinnamon whisky were never truly friends, and you never really pulled it off the shelf unless another brave soul wandered up to you looking for a challenge.

“Deep within the pain of the burn lies the pleasure hidden underneath,” he responded, watching as you grab the bottle and pour him what he asked for.

You scoffed. “Okay, Romeo.”

A moment of silence passed between you two after he thanked you for his drink, lifting the glass to his lips until his other hand found what he was looking for. “You know we don’t allow those things in here, right?” you shouted at him over the music, reaching over the bar to tap his shoulder and pointing at the two items he had pulled out of his jacket: a small pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

He smiled at you, putting his drink down and proceeding to light it anyway, the small flame reflecting in his shades and seeming to almost challenge you to do something about it. “What’s life without a little danger, angel?”

“What’s danger without a little caution to go with it?”

“Why believe in caution when you could just throw it to the wind?”

You paused, your gaze trapped in his as he cleverly blew smoke from his mouth, holding your gaze and smiling again before placing the cigarette back between his lips. “Touché, mysterious man at my bar. You got a point there.” Another second passed before you spoke again. “Tell me, o’ great purveyor of danger and mystery, what’s your name?”

He turned his head off to the side to look through one of the club’s circular windows, the moon glinting in his sunglasses as he pondered your question before turning back to you with a smile. “Damian,” he told you, the depth in his voice rumbling the base of your spine as he spoke. His hand reached for yours, taking it within his larger one as he plucked the cigarette from his lips and leaned down to kiss the back of your hand.

And his lips….fucking hell, were they supposed to be that soft? He tilted his head up in your direction, smirking with that beautiful face of his before standing back up. “At your service, angel. And what might your name be?”

You breathlessly gave it to him, the place where he had laid his lips upon your hand tingling with…something you couldn’t quite name. Was it fear? Anticipation? Something more? You couldn’t quite tell.

What you could tell, however, was that this guy - Damian - was…interesting. He gave off a vibe that you couldn’t really describe as he continued to smoke his cigarette, cleverly blowing smoke from his nose once he caught you staring at him again. And the spot on your hand where he kissed you seemed to pulse and beat with a life of its own, him looking on curiously when you ran your fingertips over it.

You poured yourself a drink as well in the meantime - your favorite: tequila with ice and a slice of lime - and nursed the small shot glass in your hands, Damian taking note and raising his own.

“Hmm? What for?”

“For whatever,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly seeming to drown out the energy surrounding you both. “Whatever you wish tonight to be, and for however long you wish to spend it with me.”

It took everything within you not to roll your eyes but you clinked glasses with him anyway, downing your shot and already reaching for another.

“This should be interesting…”

You don’t know how exactly how long it’s been but the two of you spent the rest of the night together as you worked, talking and casually drinking and chatting as though you had known him for years before this very moment.

A small pile of Damian’s cigarettes laid on a bar napkin in front of you as the conversation between you flowed easier than you had thought it would, with him asking you questions about your life with you, in turn, asking him to regale you with the tales of his many travels.

“So, you’re telling me that a dude that small did that much damage to your nose?” you asked, chuckling along with him as you poured him another round.

He laughed, the smell of cinnamon whiskey flowing from his mouth and to your nose. “Absolutely. Damn near turned my nose into powdered sugar with the force of that kick. Luckily, it didn’t do as much damage as I thought it would. At least, I hope it didn’t.”

“Yeah, your face looks absolutely horrendous right now. The Wicked Witch of the West called, she said she wants her nose back.”

“Ouch, that’s cold of you, angel,” he laughed with a smile, raising his glass to you and downing his drink in one go once again. “But I must say, I would make a beautiful witch.”

“That you would, Damian, that you fucking would.” Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling, the entire club and its atmosphere seeming to fade out into the background as he started to continue his story. And as he spoke, you felt that same feeling flood your veins, the hairs on your arms standing straight and your posture beginning to relax a lot more.

You can’t remember the last time you felt like…like this before, let alone working one of the busiest nights of the year. You felt content, almost. Better than you have in years being this close to someone of the opposite sex.

You felt happy.

You were jotting down another order when you felt his hand on your wrist, large and warm and surprisingly soft. When you looked up, there he was just a few inches away from you, your own startled expression being reflected back at you through his shades.

“I have an idea…” he started, his gaze seeming to ignite something within you as your heart began to race. “Let’s…get out of here. I wanna show you something.” The way he spoke to you felt…different. You knew he was trying to get into your metaphorical pants - that much was obvious - but his tone sounded…darker. More lustful dangerous than creepy dangerous.

You could practically see the mischief in his eyes, the mix of cinnamon and whiskey combined with the leftover cigarette smoke and his overall presence practically making you drunk off that alone. He was pulling you in again, the world spinning to a halt and fading away again for what felt like an eternity. In this moment, there was no music, no bright and annoying neon club lights, no drunk partygoers sloshing their way up to you and asking for another round, no coworkers hounding you to be more enthusiastic….there was none of that.

All there was around you, over you, covering you was Damian.

His voice in your ears, his scent in your nose, his eyes on you, the feeling of his hand on your skin as he gently caressed it and traced shapes over the inside of your wrist. His voice dripped over you like fresh honey, equal parts sticky sweet and just as addicting. You didn’t even notice yourself begin to lean forward into his touch, your lips just barely brushing his….

They were just as soft as you thought they were, a voice in the back of your mind said quietly before you felt like you were yanked into an ice cold lake, your eyes shooting open as you jumped back and yanked your arm from his grasp.

Your actions startled Damian as well, the taller man slowly pulling his hand back with raised brows, looking just as shocked as you were. But he quickly gained control, leaning one arm on the bar before asking, “You alright there, angel? Did I scare you or something?”

“I…” you started, unsure of exactly what just happened. “No, no you didn’t. And as for your question…”

You reached behind you to grab a clean pint glass to fill it before handing the beer to the guy sitting next to him, taking his payment before tapping Damian’s nose with the tip of your finger. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than getting me liquor-ed up and loose lipped to get me into your bed.”

“Oh, playing hard to get, I see?”

“I just wanna see what I’m working with here. Who knows, you might really be a demon in disguise,” you teased, matching his smirk before refilling your own drink. “But, as a great man once told me, what’s life without a little danger?”

His smile grew wide and he laughed as you raised your glass to his, the two of you cheering and taking a drink together.

The night seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye after that, you willingly choosing to ignore the waring feelings that still lingered within you as you talked. One moment, you were being drawn into Damian, into his words and his stories and the heated gaze you felt beneath those shades that hid his eyes too well and the next, you were being rapidly yanked back into reality, fumbling with the glass and bar towel in your hand as you rushed to cater to your bar patrons.

It was almost like a game to him, seeing you this frazzled and off your game as you shifted between relaxing while talking to him and whipping up cocktails and a show for the various clubbers who were willing to stitch around and watch. You wish you could tell what he was thinking when you looked back over at him, finishing your mini-show to a small round of applause before finally sitting down to take a break.

The night was finally beginning to slow down now as the clock tolled midnight, the seas of clubbers drunkenly and exhaustingly making themselves scarce as they began to file out the front door and your coworkers started to clean up the mess of decorations, cups, drinks, food and whatever else that littered the floors.

“Hey, Damian,” you said all of a sudden, cleaning off the last glass of the night before sitting back on your stool, “tonight was fun, really fun, but I gotta start heading home soon. It’s getting late and duty calls for the extra morning shift.”

His shoulder seemed to sag when you told him that, facing you and leaning his hands on the bar. He watched you in silence as you slipped of your foam slides and put your heels back on, shimmying your way out from behind the bar and almost falling flat on your face in the process.

“Whoa, there, angel! Relax, the night’s not going anywhere.”

Where you had expected to feel hardwood meeting your nose and smashing it to bits like in Damian’s story, you instead felt…nothing? All except a warm feeling around your waist as he lifted you from your potential fall and stabilized your footing. His hands felt…nice on your body, almost like they were meant to be there…

“And besides, you are in no shape to go all the way home like this, especially in those.” He gestured down to your shoes, your near-fall proving his point exactly correct.

“So, why don’t I walk you home tonight? I can play savior in case you trip and try to hurt yourself again.”

You playfully slap his shoulder before moving out of his hold, the area where his hands were now feeling ice cold without his warmth. “I thought I was the angel here.”

“Just this once is all I ask, as a thank you for the constant flow of alcohol into my system and the wonderful conversation. Then, the title is all yours.”

You can tell that he winked at you through his shade and it made you smile, telling him to wait outside by the entrance so you can go get your things real quick.

A quick trip to the backroom lounge later and Damian was still by the front door, your angel wings being held by their straps in one of your hands and the other holding your bag, hands in his packers as he gazed up at the night sky. “You ready to go, angel?”

You nodded, shifting your bag onto your shoulder as he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way over to you. “Well, then, lead the way.”

With a light smile on your face, the two of you start off in the direction of your apartment, your heart beginning to beat wildly in your chest for some reason as the club began to grow smaller and smaller in size behind you.

You both walked in a relative - albeit comfortable - silence, 

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot, angel.”

“You haven’t taken off your sunglasses the whole night,” you start, standing in front of him with your arms crossed as your feathered wings dangled in the wind. “Why? Are you, like, missing an eye or something? Are they tattooed? Are you a vampire, perhaps?”

Damian smiled. “No, hell no, and I wish I was, angel. I’m just not a fan of the bright neon club scene. The light of it all kinda hurts my eyes. But, if you’re asking to see them, well…”

He moved his hands towards his shades, slid them off his face and…

…holy fuck, his eyes were gorgeous. Warm pools of deep brown stared back at you with just the lightest flecks of gold sprinkled into them. You could see why people couldn’t get their hands away from him before he came to the bar because damn. Those eyes mixed with that voice and that face….your heart and your core began to beat in unison, your thighs clenching together slightly before you paused.

“Well, then…”

“Cat got your tongue, angel? The night’s just getting started,” he said, folding them away and putting them in the pocket of his jacket.

“For you, maybe,” you mumbled, crossing your arms before smiling at him. “Unlike you, I’m not a sexy drifter with a deep voice and nice tattoos looking for another new adventure.”

Damian gasped playfully. “You think I’m sexy?”

“That’s not the point you’re supposed to be focusing on here.”

He laughed - god, his laugh was like molasses, flowing through and over you all deep and dark and all things rich - and your heart sung a merry tune, the corners of his eyes crinkling and making you want to stick your fingers in the small dimples that made themselves known in his cheeks.

“It’s such a shame, really,” you told him, trying your best to keep in step with his long strides, “that more people don’t get the chance to see those lovely eyes of yours. If you weren’t the drifter you are, you’d make a killing as a model.”

“What kind of model?” he questioned, raising his brows and wiggling them at you.

“Ha-ha, Damian.” You tried your best not to get flustered by him and his voice again but with how he’s looking at you, his hand slowly snaking around your waist and pulling you close to his warmer frame just as the wind passed by you…how could you not be?

He even slowed down his walk for you, keeping you as close to himself as possibly to avoid you tripping over anything in your heels.

“What if I step on your feet?” you asked, your entire body practically fitting perfectly underneath his arm.

“So you do care about me, angel.” You rolled your eyes in response. “But, you don’t have to worry about me like that. I’ve dealt with a lot worse than getting stepped on with some heels.”

You don’t know why, but that made you laugh. You’ve laughed a lot tonight, a lot more than you have before…and it’s all because of him. You should feel weird about that - and a part of you does - but the others just don’t, for some reason.

“Good night, angel. Sleep well for me, okay?”

“Yes, dad,” you groaned playfully, not noticing the spark you lit dancing in his eyes. The way he watched you as you moved up the steps of your building and towards the front entrance made you shiver like back at the club, almost as if he was undressing you with his eyes.

“Good night, Damian. I guess I’ll see you arounf, then?”

He nodded, taking a hand out of his pants pocket and waving to just as you did him before turning on his heel and striding away in the opposite direction you both came from.

As soon as you made it inside, you briefly checked your phone, pulling it out to send him a “thank you” text for the interesting night when…

You don’t have his number, do you?

Shit.

“Hold on, Damian! Wait! I forgot to give you my-”

But he was long gone by the time you ran back to the door, seeming to vanish into thin air in a matter of mere moments.

“Damn it,” you cursed, mentally slapping yourself over forgetting something like that. But that same voice from earlier, the one inside you tells you that you’ll meet him again, you’ll meet him soon.

I hope so, you thought, grateful that your apartment was on the first floor of your building before unlocking your door and slipping your feet out of those godforsaken heels. Locking the front door, you tossed your bag onto the sofa and quickly rushed to your room, ridding yourself of your tight dress and “costume” accessories in a trail behind you.

You dug around your closet before throwing on a light shirt and shorts for bed, yawning loudly once you finally got comfortable enough to flop face first onto your bed.

And with that, your night was over, Damian’s velvet voice faintly carrying you to sleep with a tired smile on your face.

You opened your eyes to a room of black and deep grey with deep violet, almost black lace curtains adorning the large poster bed you were currently laying on and draping towards the floor. You tried to move your arms but felt resistance, looking up to see your wrists shackled to the head of the bed in white fluffy handcuffs.

The cheap halo and wings you had worn the night before were still on you, and a quick look down at the rest of you proved that those were the only things that you were wearing.

But for some reason, you felt…fine…with that. More than content with that, even. In fact, you liked it, the space between your thighs growing hotter by the second as the curtains at the foot ofthe bed parted to reveal…Damian?

“There you are, angel,” he murmurs, the tone of his voice going straight to your core and making you whimper. “I was worried you were lost there for a second.”

He pushed his hair back with one hand - wait, when did he let his hair down?! - and straddled your trembling body, running his hands over your your thighs and up to your waist. He was shirtless, those tattoos you only got a small glimpse of the night before on full display now for your eyes, which were just as hungry and wanting as his.

Yours trailed up his arms and over his shoulders, down his collarbone and over his chest, down and down until your gaze rested on the tent in his pants as he round his cock against your aching folds.

You rattled the cuffs at your wrists as his hands began to roam, moaning when you felt his lips press against your ear. “I’m feeling a bit…hungry, right now. May I indulge in you?”

He didn’t even have to say much; he’s only asking you a fucking question and yet….

And yet…here you were, your entire body vibrating fast enough to generate its own heat shield as his lips trailed over your ear, across your jaw and up your face until they just barely grazed your lips. It wasn’t you that responded to him but it was you, in a sense, your own lips parting to answer his question.

“Yes, yes please-”

His chuckle made you feel warm all over, his velvet tone running fron the top of your head to the tip of your toes. “Thank you, my angel.” His voice was as soft as the sheets you laid upon, lis lips parting ways from yours and beginning their descent downwards.

Your neck felt the light touch of his lips before you gasped, your back arching whe you felt his teeth sink into the soft flesh. Damian’s hands gripped you waist and held you tight, marking every patch of skin his bite could reach. You could already see them now; the bruises and bites and marks this man has left on your flesh, detailing every single time he took you and make you his and his alone…

Your neck burned from the markings he left on you, the man pulling back slightly to access his work with a dark smile. But he wanted more of you, the deep hunger rolling within his soul craving every last drop of desire he could possibly wring from you.

From your neck he continued his journey downwards, leaving similar bite marks around your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. Damian cupped them in his hands, rolling your nipples and twisting them with his thumb and pointer finger until you let out a groan.

Your cries fed him more than you would ever know, your moans and whines the sweetest of symphonies to his eager ears.

His mouth left a heated trail over your breasts, taking your left nipple into his mouth to work on while he teased the other with his left hand. His free hand, however, began to finish the trail his mouth had started, tracing shapes all the way down until his hand reached your folds.

“You’re so wet, angel,” he groaned, his thumb gently swirling around your clit as hos other hand moved to part your thighs more. “Is this all for me?”

You nodded helplessly at his question, your hips bucking up into his hand as he rubbed your folds. His eyes….his eyes began to shift as his smirk grew, bleeding from their warm brown to a darker brown until finally, nothing more than a deep black the shade of midnight covered both his eyes.

It took you by surprise, the drastic shift in his gaze, latching you to him as he slipped two of his fingers into you. A smaller gasp left your lips when he began to slowly pump them inside of you, curling them briefly before pulling them away from you and licking away the mess you made on his hand.

“You’re so sweet for sweet, angel,” he moaned, the taste of you hot and heavy on his tongue. The darker force inside of him growled happily as he cleaned off the digits and slid them right back inside of you, his teeth seeming to sharpen to little points as his grin began to widen.

“That’s it, relax your body for me. Let me handle all of it,” you heard, your leg being folded against your chest much farther than you’d ever tried to move it yourself. Your thighs began to shake, your core quivering when Damian curled his fingers and his fingertips grazed that sensitive spot that lined your walls.

You hear him mutter, “There we go, there it is,” before plunging the digits deeper within your core, playing you like the finest tuned instrument and pulling noises from you that none of your previous partners ever had.

You didn’t even worry about where you were or who could possibly hear you, nor did you care about the potential logistics of sleeping with someone that you had just met. All that mattered to you in this moment was the exponentially rising crest in your core, that tightly wound spring that was winding itself even tighter.

Your cuffs rattled as you shook in his grip, your heartbeat pulsing and pulling towards Damian as though it was leashed to him, jumping and stopping and moving to his every command and movement. Your eyes began to roll into your skull, pleasure coursing through your veins.

And throughout all of it, Damian and his eyes just watched. They watched and smiled and egged your release on as he drove you closer and closer to that edge.

“Let go for me, my sweet angel”, he whispered in your ear, nails digging into the meat of your thigh as his onyx eyes held you captive. You were his prisoner now, his to toy with and use and wreck until your legs shook and your eyes rolled back into your skull and your mind was nothing more than mush for him to reshape into his perfect, submissive little angel.

“Let go for me. I can feel that you want it, that you crave your release. I need it, I need you.”

He wants more of you. More of your juices, more of your arousal, more of the noises that leave your kiss swollen lips, more of everything. And he will take what he’s due.

Something in your chest tugged and pulled towards him, his thumb going into overdrive around your clit as he fucked you senseless with his fingers, almost as though you were being pulled towards him.

Being pulled deeper and deeper within his eyes, within his aura, within the endless pool of arousal he’s dragged you into…it was all becoming too much, too much for you to bear and keep resisting-

“Cum for me, angel. My angel, all mine. Give me everything you have, everything you are, now-”

You shot up out of bed in a flurry of your own sheets and pillows, limbs flailing and eyes wideshot with the bed below you drenched in as much sweat as you were despite the windows being fully open.

Your skin was hot to the touch and your core was absolutely drenched with your arousal, the mess staining your sleep shorts and your inner thighs as they quaked. Placing a hand to your chest, you felt something tug at your innermost heartstrings, making you gasp and seemingly rise further out of your bed.

Lust ran through your body like lava fresh from a volcano, images of….Damian…bedding you in the most sinful ways possible flooding through your mind. You could still hear his voice in your ear, the deep timber of it telling you to let go so he can fully taste you, consume everything you’re willing to give him and then some, so you can finally be his and him yours-

You slammed a pillow over your face and moaned, and you swore you could feel his hands lightly dragging up your body, the trail his fingertips leave feeling like a fire you never want to put out. Your core pulsed at just the mere thought of him, and you slammed your face into the pillow over and over again as you recall your words from last night.

You just fucking met him last night, what are you thinking?! He’s a stranger, you don’t know him. He could be a serial killer for all you know….

And yet, Damian acted….like a sort-of nice guy to you last night. Talked to you more than anyone of the opposite sex has in who-knows-how-long. He made you laugh, made you feel….normal, like an actual person instead of an object. He even walked you home last night because he didn’t want to see you hurt all alone…

How many drinks did I have last night, fucking Christ…

Your head pounded and you planted your fist over it, holding your other hand over your face as a sort of shield against the early morning light. You felt….drained. You usually felt like that after a long night of working and staying up so damn late to do so, but this was….different. This felt different, almost like someone stuck a straw inside you like a human juice pouch and sucked the energy right out of you.

A single question ran through your mind as you shifted towards the edge of the bed, your feet hitting the cool floor of your bedroom as your brain brought up the hottest dream you’ve had in years once more, making your heartrate shoot through the roof again and tugging at your heart once more.

What the fuck just happened?

A deep chuckle left Damian’s lips as he twirled his fingers, a thin, deep violet thread trailing from his ring finger towards his open window. The magic within it pulsed with life and a hefty desire, thrumming with the beat of your heart. His grin shined like pearls and his eyes shifted from their warm, chocolatey brown to a black as dark as midnight, pulling one deeper, deeper, deeper within….

He rose from his chair, clad in nothing but the pants he wore from the night before as he strode towards the window and leaned out of it, reaching into his inner pocket before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with just the tip of his finger.

I like her, he thought, putting the cigarette to his lips before taking a huff. Smart, resilient, tougher than I thought she would be. Hell, she even resisted my aura when I came onto her a bit.

He can still very clearly how your desire tasted, running hot and fresh through the thread he tied to you as the memory of it flooded his every vein just as it had the night before. Savory sweet with a dash of vanilla…it’s been a while since he’s been this satisfied over a single dose over one night, but now he wants more. Much, much more.

And what Damian wants, he fucking gets.

She’s good, I’ll give her that. He let out a puff of smoke, the gray ring seeming to circle him like a twisted halo until it dispersed and became one with the wind. But, she wasn’t good enough. He chuckled again, lightly tugging away at the loop he tied to your soul and letting out a laugh when he felt the magic inside the thread flicker wildly like a flame caught in the wind.

And with a wave of his hand and a whisper from his lips, the thread seemingly vanished into thin air. But he could still feel it - feel you -, full of a unexpected and deep-rooted lust and longing that would soon rear its ugly head.

Even if you didn’t know it, you were his now. His newest game, his new plaything, his new toy. His new nightly entertainment as he flooded your subconscious with a new arousing, needy dream every single night until you finally broke.

This should be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

tag list: @theworldofotps @writinglionqueen @axelwolf8109 @stargazerofgoldenwords @neversatisfiedgirl @neversatisfiedgirlfics @mistress-omega-majesty @mistress-to-the-moon @roofgeese @moxleyunstable @thebestintheworld @wrasslin-kpop-and-bullshit @thiccc-rider-mcintyre @shanie-the-toyaddict @wrestlersownmyheart @wrestlezaynia @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @mind-of-tavia @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @demonslunacy @harlowaddict @glowingz @iceebabies @lemonjvicey @thatnerdwriter @gold--gucciempress @jazzy-tzw @wardlow @deepdisireslonging @thatpanpal @dori-the-rwby-addict @nerdlife0612 @aura-ravenora77 @adamansdiamond @adampage @cowboyshit @merchfreak @thepalaceofmelanie @thephoenixreaper @chasingeverybreakingwave @taurielthepirateking @sassymox @colesterstrudel

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Hell yes, I loved every bit of this! Absolutely better than I expected - and you haven’t lost your touch! Even if you decided not to continue with it, I’m so glad it inspired you even a little bit. Much love 💕💕💕💕

[kalliravenne]

i should be done with your request by the end of the day lol.

fair warning: i wanted to make it short (aka 1k or less) but now it's longer than i thought it would be.....forgive me lmao

I love longer stories! No worries - I’m looking forward to this one. ☺️

[retro-rezz-the-est]

i also need a bit of help getting the word out to other ppl lmao 😅😅

[neversatisfiedgirlfics]

Not a problem! ♥️

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Masterpost: How to write a story?

Compilation of writing advice for some aspects of the writing process.

How to motivate myself to write more

How to get rid of writer’s block

Basic Overview: How to write a story

How to outline a story

How to come up with plot

How to create a character

How to make a character unique

How to use nicknames

How to start a story

How to write a prologue

How to write conversation

How to write witty banter

How to write the last line

How to write a summary

How to write a book description

How to write romance

How to write friendships

How to write emotional scenes

How to write an argument

How to write yelling

How to write anger

How to write betrayal

How to title fanfiction

How to write an unreliable narrator

First Person vs. Third Person POV

How to write character deaths

How to use songs in a fanfiction

How to name fictional things

How to write multiple points of view

Introducing a group of characters

Large cast of characters interacting in one scene

Redemption arc

Plot twists

Fatal Character Flaws

Good traits gone bad

More specific scenarios

Slow burn

AU ideas

Favourite tropes

How to create quick chemistry

How to write a bilingual character

How to write a character with glasses

How to create a villain

How to write a polyamorous relationship

How to write a wedding

How to write found family

How to write forbidden love

How to write a road trip

How to create and write a cult

How to write amnesia

How to write a stratocracy

How to write the mafia

Criminal past comes to light

Reasons for breaking up while still loving each other

Relationship Problems

Relationship Changes

Milestones in a relationship

Platonic activities for friends

Settings for conversations

Introducing partner(s) to family

Honeymoon

Date gone wrong

Love Language - Showing, not telling

Love Language - Showing you care

Affections without touching

Giving the reader butterflies with your characters

Reasons a couple would divorce on good terms

How to write enemies to lovers

How to write lovers to enemies to lovers

How to write academic rivals to lovers

How to write age difference

How to create a coffee shop atmosphere

How to create an atmosphere: Library

How to write a college party

How to write modern royalty

Arranged matrimony for royalty

Paramilitary Forces/ Militia

Inconvenient things a ghost could do

A Queen’s Assassination Plot

Crime Story - Detective’s POV

Evil organization of assassins

Evil wins in the end

Causes for the apocalypse

Last day on earth

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