—~~~*ཐི༏ཋྀ*~~~—
Synopsis: One Shot… Head of the Table getting Head at the Table. Enough said.
Warnings/Spoilers: 18+ Smut, MDNI, technically dom!Roman and sub!reader, observed masturbation (f and m), oral (m receiving), daddy kink, delayed gratification, praise kink, facial
Author’s Note: I experimented with minimalism for tension with this one. And I thought it a good exercise since I tend to take a long while to finish my fics anyway- especially a couple with RR still in the works. But decided to just get this one out for the fun and the filth without overthinking. 😝 And I’m sure someone somewhere has done a similar idea long ago when the era was fresh, but I’m a bit late to the game and never got to write it myself so *shrugs* here ya go.
Word Count: 1.2k (and straight to the nitty gritty)
For the fun and the filth! 🥂🍻
A nasty quickie for ya!
—~~~*ཐི༏ཋྀ*~~~—
A subtle creak as his toned muscles lean back into his leather throne.
Finally lifting his scalding, stern gaze to you.
“Strip.”
Flushing, you obey.
Sliding the straps off your shoulders. Sleek fabric pooling at your feet. Thumbs snag your panties off and down to meet the dress.
“Crawl to me.”
You hesitate.
“Crawl across the table to your Tribal Chief. Now.”
You plant each shaking hand on the mahogany. Pressing yourself up to gingerly set each knee on the polished, unforgiving wood.
Breath already ragged.
Hand, then knee.
A bead of sweat runs down your side, despite how chilled your skin should be now nude.
Hand, then knee.
Closer.
Breasts dangling and bobbing with each shift forward.
Keeping eyes locked on the man ahead of you. Assuming it’d please him, though his expression gives nothing away.
Closer.
The banquet table a mile long.
Painstakingly.
Closer.
To him.
Two fingers draped atop his lips. His other hand beneath the table.
Closer.
His aura had enveloped you early on, yet now as you crept further, it became denser.
Headier.
Intoxicating.
Closer.
Your lips part.
Your limbs grow heavy.
Closer.
Mind dizzy.
Pussy wet.
Closer.
Crawling further into the sweltering fog of his libido.
Now you see his hand below the table.
Sliding up and down. His huge cock already in his grasp.
Watching you.
Kneeling in front of him, at the plateau of his table, you wait.
Your shins a placemat and your body a full-course meal.
But you already know it won’t be you who’s getting eaten tonight.
His eyes remain harsh and steady on you as he strokes himself.
“Squeeze your tits for Daddy.”
Your palms find the cups of your breasts and knead them. Slowly and tenderly squishing your flesh between fingers. Molding them.
Nipple buds tugged between your own knuckles.
You bite your lip as it turns you on.
The feeling.
And his eyes on you.
You stifle a moan into an aching sigh.
“Let Daddy hear you.”
Your lips part. Inhaling something eager.
Massaging your breasts. Plucking your nipples erect and hard for him.
Your moans are staggered yet angelic.
Hazy eyes peer at him through lashes.
You watch as precum drizzles out and over his thick head.
You lick your lips and whimper.
“You want Daddy’s big dick, don’t you, babygirl?”
Neither his gaze nor his body adjusted at your observation of him. He continued stroking himself.
Challenging you.
“Yes, Daddy...”
Your folds quiver.
“Not yet, babygirl. Show me. Show Daddy that pretty pussy while you play with yourself.”
Ass cheeks printed to the glossy wood. Spreading legs wide to him. Lounging back on a hand. Your other trails to your mound.
Fingers slip between folds and up along your slippery self.
Squishing labia and drawing your slick out and over.
Circling your scrunched hood and pressing it gently as you seduce your clit free.
Singing a quiet but emphatic moan for him.
Your juices leak. Naughty drips gleaming on the tabletop.
Rocking your fingertips against your sensitive pearl.
Submerging them into your dripping pussy.
Wet and wanting. Eyes closed.
Winding up a raunchy knot in your core.
“Look at Daddy while you fuck yourself.”
Eyebrows buckled, mouth agape, you peel open your murky eyes. Still petting.
His eyes black and sinister. Jaw clenched. Nostrils flared.
You leak even more.
Soft moans growing more high pitch.
“I tell you when to cum. Lick them clean.”
Your whine is sweet and needy.
Licking up your own slick soaked fingers.
Kneeling again, with a filthy puddle of your pleasure now beneath you.
Roman rises.
His broad frame towers over you as his erection stands hard and swollen in front of your face.
“Open your mouth.”
With a sharp inhale, you oblige and gape your lips, sliding your tongue out like a welcome mat.
His big hand pets your hair before clutching your jaw and raising your open mouth up to him.
Grabbing his thick shaft into his grip, he whacks his cock head harshly against your tongue. Slapping and sticking on the wet cushion of your tastebuds.
Your brows knit into a plea.
Roman glides his thick head along your slippery tongue, back and forth. Like he’s sharpening a blade.
Then shoves his cock further. Your lips naturally wrap around his girth as his tip kisses the back of your throat.
“Suck it. Show Daddy how badly you want this big dick.”
Lips massaging, sliding along his shaft. Your tongue painting him with saliva. Trickling down to his base.
Hollowing your cheeks and sucking on his hot and veiny cock like an artform.
Teasing him with every sensation you could grant him.
Rubbing his mushroom head against the tender walls of your inner cheek.
Letting his tip jab into the underside of your tongue.
Ironing his veins.
Spading his hole.
Licking and sloshing.
Swirling and squishing the most lewd masterpiece along his cock.
A muted groan from him. Unintentional.
He always saves any praise as a tool to use. When it benefits him only.
Unless he truly can’t help it.
Your fingers clutch his sack and fondle his weighted flesh.
Your other hand gliding slick along the rest of his length.
Wringing him with slippery, sultry care as you sucked and slurped.
Plunging his cock in and out of your squelching, drenched lips.
Moaning so the hum of delight vibrates him within your wet, warm mouth.
“Shit, babygirl. You know what Daddy likes, don’t ya? You look so sexy when your mouth is full with my dick.”
His big hand cradles the back of your head. You curl your tongue and sheath your teeth even more in preparation.
“All needy and wet for you Tribal Chief. Such a good girl.”
Withdrawing slightly.
Pow!
Roman rams his cock deep into your throat.
Pow.
Thick.
Pow.
Swollen.
Pow.
Thrusting hard.
Pounding deep.
Pow.
Pow.
Pow.
“Ah, your mouth is so fucking perfect, babygirl. Taking my dick like you were made for it.”
Your mouth wide and open and full at the mercy of Roman’s cock.
Slipping forcibly in and out of your anxious lips.
Vulgar, sloppy sounds.
“You like me fucking your mouth, don’t you, babygirl? That pretty pussy loves this dick, but your mouth lives for it.”
Squelching into overflowing spit and precum.
Roman groans as he fucks your mouth.
Harder and harder.
Over and over with his rigid cock.
Tears welling in your eyes.
“Go ahead and touch yourself, babygirl. You deserve it, taking Daddy’s dick so good.”
Your fingers return to your pussy.
Plump and wanting.
Already soaked with arousal.
Rubbing and sliding your fingers against your clit.
Reinvigorating.
Not just accepting but now devouring his pulsing cock.
Hot and rigid against your tongue.
Salty and velvet.
Whimpering a melody of pleasure to him.
He finally shares a growl of approval from deep in his chest.
“You’re mine, babygirl. This mouth is mine. And Daddy’s going to cum all over it.”
Your moaning whimper is a gargled cry.
As your own climax builds deliciously inside you.
Higher and higher.
Cresting…
Your orgasm rolls and ripples euphoric waves throughout your body as Roman pulls out with a pop.
Pumping himself with his hand.
Erupting on you.
Ropes of hot cum coat your face.
Cascading.
Melting.
Leaving you completely nasty and spent.
Roman clutches your jaw.
Drags his wide tongue up along your cheek. Licking your face clean.
Lapping up every splatter and drip of his own creamy mess he just made on you.
summary once upon a time, you believed surrendering to roman was love. now, on Valentine’s Day, you’re fighting to stay alive or to regain control.
- 18+ pairing: dark!roman reigns x female!reader
warning DUBCON, obsession, manipulation, stalking, kidnapping, dacryphilia, unprotected p in v, power imbalance, non consensual drugging, drugged sex, dirty talk, rough sex, cunilingus, multiple orgasms, praise kink, degradation, repeated threats, daddy kink, choking, non consensual constraints, body marking, yandere themes (?) as always, read at your own discretion! thx for being patient w me <3
Every now and again you think of how your life used to be, back when you weren’t living in fear. You worked so hard in school and landed a corporate job, it was a mindless dream, working your way up toward a company that might never exist. But it gave you a reason to wake up every morning and grind.
You were always the one in control; calling shots, giving orders, planning every hour of your day down to the minute. It felt good to finally let someone take that weight off your shoulders. With Roman, you surrendered mentally. You thought you’d met the love of your life. Your strict forty five minute lunch break used to end at fifteen, the rest spent hustling back to your desk. But with Roman, you took a full hour.
You’d sit beneath his desk, tucked between his legs, resting your head against his lap while the soft tapping of his keyboard filled the room. Sometimes you would sleep while he would work and if you were having a bad day, you’d get gentle head rubs and kisses.
But what goes up, must come down. Roman quickly became much darker.
Your sex life changed, you’d roleplay and he’d be a bit rougher. You grew worried when your friends or coworkers would see you the next day and ask what happened to you when they noticed all the faint bruises and marks that he left on your body. His fantasies became more physical as he would try to bite and choke you much harder, his eyes would turn completely black. He would become unrecognizable in this…trance. He would make comments saying how he would kill for you.
Yet, you didn’t take him seriously. He only showed this side during sex. Outside of that, he was still the kind of man who brought you coffee, kissed your forehead, held doors open for you. A man like that couldn’t possibly carry these dark and disturbing thoughts inside of him.
But you’re certainly regretting ever underestimating him. Because today is Valentine’s Day and you’re laying still on his chest, your body won’t stop trembling. Your throat is dry, your head is pounding, pins and needles are crawling under your skin from the adrenaline.
Roman has kidnapped you.
As long as you stay still while he sleeps, he won’t hurt you. That’s the rule you’ve made in your head.
Sure enough, he stirs.
“Good morning, beautiful.” He leans forward, pressing a lazy kiss to the crown of your head. The mattress shifts beneath you when you try to run, but cold metal bites into your ankles. You jerk instinctively, a sharp yelp tearing out of you as handcuffs drag you back down.
“Thought you’d try that,” he chuckles, straightening up. “don’t test me.”
“H-h… how?” you rasp, swallowing your spit. Your eyes move to the headboard, then to the locked bedroom door, to him. “I thought you w—”
“Locked up?” he interrupts, tilting his head. “What did I tell you? I always find my way back to you, don’t I?”
He tells you he still had access to the office building even after he got fired. And he makes sure you know that part is your fault. He still can’t believe you fell for it. Your assistant being trapped in the downstairs bathroom, really? When you and your assistant worked on the eighth floor. Guess you weren’t as smart as he gave you credit for.
You cry quietly while he speaks, staring at the wall because you’re too scared to look at him.
He caught you the second the bathroom door clicked shut behind you. The smell of chloroform hit your nose before you even had time to turn around. You fought for a second, your nails scratching at his sleeve, your heels skidding against the tile. He’d used your phone to text your assistant, telling her your coffee made you sick and that you were taking the rest of the day off. Nobody would come looking for you.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you choke out. “you’re a psycho!”
His expression changes instantly. The warmth completely drains from his face, his eyes going dark and empty. “Call me crazy again,” he says calmly, “and i’ll slit your throat.”
Then, slowly, his smile comes back, like nothing happened. He hands you a small box wrapped in red paper, inside are the obvious things you’d expect for Valentine’s Day. Like candy, flowers, lace lingerie folded neatly and… a scrapbook?
“What’s this?” you ask, turning it over in your hands, thumb brushing over the worn edges of the cover.
“I knew you’d like it.” He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I did all of this for you, sweetheart. I love you.”
The scrapbook throws you off. Completely. Your brain stalls for a second, still trying to process it, and when you don’t answer right away, his jaw tightens. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.
“I love you too, Roman. Thank you,” you say quickly, forcing a smile.
“You don’t think I know when you’re lying?” he snaps.
“No, I’m serious.” You clutch the scrapbook a little tighter to your chest. “I think this is the most romantic thing you’ve ever done. You…you dedicated all this time to me? It’s just…” You didn’t have any more words, honestly. You’re terrified.
He studies you. “I’m gonna take care of you today,” he finally says, standing up. “It’s Valentine’s Day and I have something special planned for you.”
He unlocks the cuffs, but he immediately grabs your wrist when you sit up too fast as he pulls you out of bed. You follow him down the hallway on weak legs. You find yourself in his bathroom, looking around as he turns on the shower. He adjusts the temperature, testing it with his hand before stepping aside.
“Get in.”
“Like…naked or like…?” You shook your head, afraid of angering him before you stepped under the water. Your clothes cling to you, and when you start to peel them off, your hands won’t stop shaking.
You wash quickly and once you’re finished, you reach for the towel, he hands it to you before he leads you back into the bedroom and drops a folded outfit onto the bed. He watches every single move you make as you dress yourself up, he never uttered a word.
When you’re dressed, he pulls a chair in front of the vanity.
“Go ahead,” he says. “do your makeup, sweetheart.”
Part of you wanted to ask how the hell did he know what brand, shade, and size of your products. You didn’t leave anything behind at his house when you stayed here, did you?
Your fingers hover over the brushes. You start slow, awaiting for his approval or for his temper to flare. But all he did was watch you.
“You don’t need that much,” he interrupts, stepping closer. He reaches out and wipes under your eye with his thumb, removing a smudge. “There. Better.”
When you finish, he tilts your chin up, inspecting his very own object of desire.
“Beautiful,” he says softly. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”
You try to act flustered,“I wanted to look beautiful for you,” you say sweetly. “I love how attentive you are. You make me feel so loved and special.”
Maybe this will convince him to let you go. If not… Plan B waits in the back of your mind. It’s more of a kamikaze mission but anything is better than rotting here. You realize your plan might actually work the second you step into the dining room.
Candlelight flickers across the walls, and the table is set for two. Spaulding, his butler, stands near the counter, offering you a polite smile. He recognizes you. You can tell. But there’s no sign that he has any idea what Roman has done. Roman pulls out your chair, “Sit.”
You obey, smoothing your dress as you lower yourself into the seat. He takes the plates from Spaulding, dismissing him. He plates the food carefully, adjusting the portions so yours looks prettier before he takes his own seat. He watches you take the first bite.
“Good?”
You swallow. “Yeah, It’s good.”
You take small, careful bites as you study his home like it wasn’t yours for a while. Halfway through dinner, he sets his fork down.
“What’s on your mind?”
“Oh— I… um… nothing!” you stutter. “Just overwhelmed, is all.”
His jaw clenches as he cuts into his steak, the knife scraping faintly against the plate. “I suggest you spit it out.”
“Being here makes me miss us,” you say before lifting the glass to your lips. “I miss all of this. I’m ashamed of saying it… after all the hell I’ve caused.”
“…I forgive you.”
Fucking narcissistic egomaniac. Your fingers curl around the stem of your glass and you imagined the steak knife buried in his chest, blood pooling across his white shirt like spilled wine. You decided to bite your tongue, “And I—I think what I’m saying is… let me—”
“More wine?” Spaulding asks from the doorway. Roman’s eyes shoot to him and he quickly disappears.
“Please,” Roman says calmly, folding his hands. “continue.”
“Let me be your muse, tonight. It’s my way of apologizing.” Your voice trembles. “You’ve done all this work for me. Bringing me here. Cooking for me. But for now, here’s the best I can do.” Your hand slips beneath the table, sliding off your lace thongs. When you place the fabric into his palm, his fingers curl around them.
For a moment, you think he’s going to toss the dishes off of the table, drag you onto it, and devour you whole. But he doesn’t. He simply places them into his pocket and cuts into his steak. He sits in silence, watching his distorted reflection ripple across the blade before lifting his eyes to you.
“I need to carve you.”
“carve me?”
He’s already gone somewhere else in his head, he definitely doesn’t hear you, your pulse or your heavy breathing.
“My name,” he continues. “all over your body. Marking you so everyone knows who you belong to.”
You nod because you don’t know what else to do, your plan is starting to backfire. What if he actually does it? He reaches across the table and laces his fingers with yours as you nod again, biting back tears.
You push your plate away slowly, your appetite is gone and you wonder if you should act now.
“Do you think we could,” you lean closer to him. “roleplay…like we used to? maybe i could give you a lap dance and pretend to be a stripper or..or..”
“Why?” He growls. “You didn’t like it.”
“I know, but—” The chair scrapes violently as he yanks you forward. Your knees slam into the floor, pain shooting up your legs as you cry out and scramble backward on instinct.
“You really think I’m fucking stupid?”
You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you push yourself upright.
“ANSWER ME!”
“No! No, I don’t think that!” Your voice cracks. “I swear!”
He crouches down slowly, gripping your chin between his fingers, forcing your face up. He stared into your eyes and watched your features. If he sees the tiniest hint of fear, there’s no telling what he will do to you.
Minutes later you’re back in the bedroom, he chains your ankles again before disappearing into the bathroom. The second the door shuts, you move. Your hands shake as you reach the open dresser. That’s when you see a small capsule. Who knows what he was going to do with it, but, finders keepers.
You hide it in your mouth, tucking it beneath your tongue, forcing yourself not to gag. When he comes back, he pulls you upright and onto him roughly.
“Dance for me, angel.”
As you move, your mind isn’t on him, it’s on the capsule dissolving if you hold it too long. Or if he’ll taste it or if your hands are shaking too much. You try to make conversation to maintain your facade.
“You just want to keep me for yourself, huh?” You ask cheekily while one of your hands slides down to his bulge. You roll your hips, moaning breathlessly. “I’m always gonna be yours baby, you don’t have to worry.”
His Adam's apple bobs up and down with a heavy pant. “My adoration for you knows no bounds.”
When he pulls you in for the kiss, you moan. Not from want, but to mask the movement of your mouth. The capsule slips between your lips and his. Your stomach drops as you watch him swallow his spit and catch his breath.
“I need you.”
•••
He used both hands to keep your legs parted, you tried so hard not to squirm as the two of you watched each other. He was so turned on just from eating you out. He moaned as he dragged his tongue lightly against your clit. He needed to see how you liked to be teased and judging by your unsteady breathing, trembling legs, and the pornographic whimpers, you were right where he wanted you.
You’re being such a good girl for him.
Your back arched as his fingers entered you, your gasp tangled shame with pleasure. His lips sealed around your clit, sucking hard before licking over the swollen bud while his fingers fucked into you. Your fingers clutched at his hair, unintentionally grinding against him.
“I-I…’m cummingg!” you were cumming, but he wasn’t done with you. It didn’t satisfy him. He always wanted more of you.
He lifted his head after cleaning you up, then settled over you. His forehead pressed to yours, “Tell me you want me,” Roman whispered. “Tell me you will die for my love, because I’ll die for you. I swear I’ll fucking die for you, angel.”
Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him down into a deep kiss. You hummed as you felt his member rubbing and sliding between your folds, wet from your juices mixing with his saliva. Without breaking the kiss, he eases himself inside of you, staying still.
This very moment pulls him deeper into his devotion…and possibly madness.
When he finally broke the kiss, he fucked you with all the strength and love he’d been holding since the day he met you. You liked rough sex. But this… this felt like he was claiming you. You’d let out uncertain moans as he kissed your jaw, your cheek, and your lips. You even tried to push him away, “…’s t- too…much..”
“It’s supposed to be, baby. Focus on pleasing me instead.” He coos, grabbing your throat as he bottoms you out.
“Roman!”
“I knoooww, feels so good to focus on Daddy , doesn’t it?”
The pleasure hits you hard, taking you by surprise as he’s holding you firmly against him, his thrusts never losing their rhythm.
It definitely takes no time before you’re on your third orgasm of the night. His eyes trails up to your face as he groans, “There you go, take that fucking dick.” When you croak out a weak “please,” he’s quick to reassure you with a smile. “I know, it’s okay, babygirl. I’m here.” You’re beyond helpless, too drained to do anything but take it.
You started to writhe, sniffling as you watched his face light up at the tears sliding down your cheeks. Your tears, the sad, desperate look in your eyes, the slight pout of your lips, all of it was so beautiful to him. He buries his head into your shoulder as he cums inside of you.
The both of you were spent. The sedative was supposed to knock him out, but instead… here you were. Staring at yourself in the mirror as he praised you. “Look at yourself, princess. Look at all those pretty marks.”
You caught your trembling legs in the reflection, his eyes gleamed with satisfaction, but something was off. Exhaustion weighed on him, slowing his movements and slurring his speech.
“You enjoyed them, didn’t you?“ He asks, pulling you close, and pressing you against him.
“Let me… fuck you,” you blurt out.
Ofc, you’d seduce him until he passed out. Your plan is working.
He sits down, patting his lap.
Sinking down, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch, you struggled to sit on it all the way. Roman impatiently pushed you down, groaning as he filled you up. He slid his hands under your thighs, “Fuck me.” He teases.
You bounced with a deliberate slowness. Roman gripped and slapped your ass once you rolled your hips just right. You began bouncing erratically on him, holding on tightly to him as you let out your pretty moans.
“I’m almost there, baby. You gone make daddy cum?”
You nodded, your head falling back when his thumb started rolling circles on your clit. You obeyed his every command, watching as his face began to scrunch up in pleasure.
“Mhm, make me cum.” He slurred. He was feeling a little woozy, but he used his last bit of strength to bring you down onto him faster and harder, going deeper inside of you with each thrust. His rhythm slowly faltered as he pulled you into a messy kiss. His lips missed yours once, then again. When you pulled back, you’d notice how his eyes were glossy and hanging low. When he came, it wasn’t with the same control he prided himself on. Instead it was just a rough, breathless sound that almost sounded like your name. His body went slack, his forehead dropped against your shoulder.
The tears fell slowly at first, then the relief began spilling out as adrenaline and aftershock crashed through you. You kept your hands on him a second longer, just to make sure he was out. You slide off him slowly, nearly collapsing when your legs give out. You actually did it.
But, it still doesn’t make you feel good. Twenty four hours later, you haven’t slept. Every noise in your apartment sounds like him. Every passing car makes your stomach drop. Your phone lights up on the coffee table, you see it’s a message from an unknown number.
You almost had me.
Another message comes through almost immediately.
That was smart, I didn’t think you had it in you.
He was awake. It’s not over. Not until he says so.
