genre ⇢ smut (minors dni) . some plot
content warnings ⇢ car sex . sir kink . semi-public sex . hair pulling . unprotected sex (use protection!!) . cockwarming . praise kink . tears . overstimulation . age gap (reader is in twenties) . afab reader (she/her pronouns) . mild dissociation/sensory overload
word count ⇢ 3.7k
inspiration ⇢ roman winning the whc . cars . that one scene in fast five (the one with han and giselle in the car)
songs ⇢ "dfmu" by ella mai (x) . "bonnie and clyde" by dean (x)
note ⇢ sorry i've been a bit mia! i've had some stuff go on in my life, and it has made it hard for me to write and post. thank you always to @spiicii, who has kept me motivated, supported, and encouraged. i love you lots, and this is for you 🩶🍵
the first thing she thought was that she won, and that she was too spiked up on adrenaline to really process exactly what just happened.
her holding a championship belt—a world championship belt, she should have added—was one of the more surreal things for her that weekend. as attention-grabbing as it was for her, she could barely remember all of the events that transpired after. she could recall posing for the photos with the championship for social media and the website, but she couldn’t remember explicitly doing it; she recalled her mouth moving as she answered the questions in the post-show, but she didn’t think that she actually did that. the words sounded like hers, but she didn’t think it was her mouth that was moving.
wrestlemania weekend, no matter how exhilarating it was, always tended to leave her overstimulated in the bad way. she couldn’t keep track of how everything was going, even if she was certain that she was the one performing the motions. she remembered being in the audience for the second night, flexing the championship belt on her shoulder and smiling with that high fashion beam. the moment the camera pivoted to other things, she allowed that ironed grin to falter just enough, even if she couldn’t completely shut it down. she did her job well. after all, so much of wrestling to her was performing, and at the very least, she could perform attentiveness and wonder. her mind continued its cocooning while she allowed herself to continue watching the main event, even as she gasped on cue when the announce desk broke or at the false pin.
in some twisted way, she could feel herself grounding back reality as they watched the match. roman was the person she could easily track, because she was absolutely abysmal at avoiding his gaze. he was magnetic in the way that only somebody who was the main event of wrestlemania for the 11th consecutive time could be. he felt larger in life, elusive, and rightfully so. they hadn’t spoken, but she knew that her admiration of him wasn’t a well-concealed secret among the roster. she was only fortunate that nobody ever made it clear to him. not that that mattered, since roman was part-time anyways. she was certain he wasn’t even aware of her existence. that was fine with her—at least then, she wouldn’t be able to embarrass herself in front of him.
she did come to the realization that the match was veering towards the end sooner than she would have wanted it to. apparently, a thirty-minute match would not help her get back into herself; she considered that a bit foolish of her. she found security escorting her to gorilla again for more press photos now that they had all of their crowned champions for the weekend. she shook hands with everyone, smiled graciously, and posed. the only thing she hadn’t anticipated was pr telling her to stand next to roman for the photo of the new champions for monday night raw.
at first, she made an attempt to stand a respectable distance from him, enough to portray as close. “get closer,” she heard someone say. her eyes, wide and dazed, wasn’t sure if she caught that correctly. before she could react, though, his hand (an admittedly large hand she definitely hadn’t fantasized about several times in an attempt to get off after watching his title matches), tugged her by the waist, placing her right by his side. both of them raised their belts high, staring down the camera with precision and no shortage of cockiness. at least, she attempted to emulate that.
the first thing she registered was that he smelled good, even through all the sweat and exhaustion. she deciphered notes of sandalwood and something that was distinctly roman reigns. the other thing she could process was how warm he was compared to her cold skin. “overwhelming, isn’t it?” he murmured through the static of her mind and the shutter of the camera.
her answer didn’t feel as automatic as perhaps it should have been, her voice foreign to her own ears when she responded, “how do you ever get used to it?”
even when all of the press shoots were done, he kept his hand on her waist, helping the two of them make their way to the dressing rooms. he answered as they walked, “you just do. take the loud with the quiet—it gets easier over time.”
she didn’t know if she could believe him. the entire weekend wasn’t even really loud anymore, now veering into overload as he dropped her off at her room, which granted barely enough privacy to take a moment to breathe before more celebrations began.
she knew that a few glasses of champagne slid down her throat a few times throughout the evening, but not enough to warrant being any way incapacitated through alcohol. she knew that she shook her head and said something about excitement and gratitude for being given the opportunity. she knew that she was smiling. yet, she couldn’t really register that the alcohol was going down her throat, that it was her head moving, that it was her muscles contorting into that beam, that it was her feet guiding her towards the corner. she wasn’t sure if she could properly breathe, even though she rationally understood that her body was able to breathe on its own, and could handle it just fine.
“you look like you’re five seconds from tapping out to an anaconda vice,” a voice dryly remarked. naturally, she turned her head up towards the direction of the voice’s owner. she most likely couldn’t keep the shock off her face when her brain finally managed to process (however slowly) the present visual and auditory stimuli that roman reigns was addressing her. but, this time, of his own volition.
she technically felt more than properly realized that his expression shifted from amiability towards concern—more specifically, that it was her fault. her breath hitched, pondering if she did anything wrong. did she not answer fast enough? did her smile seem too off? or worse: did she make it too obvious she was into him? the hypotheticals had her lungs struggling for air. not that she could entirely register it, because one moment, she was in the corner of the room with the otc, and the next moment, he had his hand on her waist, escorting them both out to the elevator.
“let’s get you some air,” he murmured, keeping his voice that unwavering baritone as he closed the elevator door, forcibly shutting the door before anyone else could enter and overwhelm her further. once the doors closed, he cautiously pulled her in, strong arms caging her into him. his voice broke through the fog, “it’s alright. deep breath in for me, yeah?”
her lungs followed, matching his pace as the elevator rode all the way down to the resort’s car garage. every instance the elevator door opened and stopped at a floor, roman immediately pressed it shut, ensuring total privacy and external insulation for her with every shiver she gave. each descending floor granted her another breath to return to herself.
by the time the elevator reached the intended destination, she felt mostly back. she regained enough clarity to realize that she was in a parking garage, following roman reigns to his car, an admittedly nice one. her steps began trailing behind his, hesitant while he guided her to the passenger seat, opening it for her to slip into. the moment he shut the door and joined her in the driver’s seat, she closed her eyes, shuddering an exhale so large, as if she was atlas and the belt was the entire planet on her shoulder.
“fuck,” she whispered, “i’m sorry you had to leave the party ‘cause of me.”
he extended his hand, leaving his palm up for her to take if she wished. she took it, allowing his hand to dwarf hers. “don’t apologize,” he said, unrepentant about affixing that heavy gaze on her erratically panting chest, “first one’s always the one that hits the hardest.”
“didn’t want to take you from the party though,” she murmured in apology, shuffling awkwardly in her seat to evade enough of the heat of his eyes. “you deserve to celebrate.”
“got my celebration right here, babygirl.” his free hand brushed her cheek, gently tugging her face up. she couldn’t avoid the sensation of heat on her face. her eyes frantically flitted anywhere but him, though he seemed to know what she was attempting to do in the first place, because he leaned in enough to rest his forehead against hers. roman’s tone took on a more impish foundation as he mused, “you’re cute when you’re trying to be subtle.”
“i’m sorry,” she squeaked out again, “it’s unprofessional, and i know it’s probably creepy for a twenty-something to be having a crush on you. i promise i’m not a stalker or anything like that.”
roman tilted his head forward enough to rub his nose against hers, lips curled into an amused smile. “now, who said anything about stalking?” her eyes bolted wide open to that, pulling away to make some sense of his mirthful eyes.
“i mean, it’s weird, ain’t it?” she mumbled, “you’re like…a superstar. i didn’t wanna make it weird for you ‘cause you’re not always here. i didn’t wanna make it unpleasant or uncomfortable for you every time you came back.”
roman chuckled, breath fanning against her lips and retorting, “trust me, angel, i wasn’t ever uncomfortable with you staring at me.” he didn’t have to say much else then, his insistence enough for her to brush her lips against his for a tentative peck. roman deepened it, shifting his hands to tug her closer past the console.
“fuck,” she moaned against his lips, fingers brushing his beard firmly. she leaned further over the console, shifting herself on the passenger seat to rest more of her upper body against his.
he groaned, amused still, yet more fond as they continued to make out, “sweet thing, aren’t you? all soft and needy from some kissing?” her cheeks flared, though she didn’t deny it when she kissed him again, squeaking when he forcibly maneuvered over the console functioning as a barrier.
her mind blanked out from being shifted however awkwardly from the passenger seat to be on roman’s lap—at least she figured this time it was from something pleasant rather than dissociation. she squeaked as he pressed her form up against his, allowing him to take all of her weight while she straddled his hips. “fuck, you’re adorable,” he cooed against her lips.
“thank you, sir,” she responded, voice growing shriller as she realized what she just said and what she just called him. for all of her troubles, she earned a deep-bellied rumble that let her know that she probably didn’t have to stop calling him that. if anything, he was turned on, if the growing bulge pressing into her clothed heat was any indication.
“call me that again, babygirl,” he growled against her mouth, the same way he did when he demanded acknowledgement.
“yes, sir,” she repeated, earning a heavy spank on her ass, “fuck!”
roman swallowed her sounds with a guttural groan, pressing her closer. his other hand came to cup her sex through her panties, shifting the skirt of her dress up to give him better access. naturally, she ground down on it, rocking back and forth against the weight and heat of his palm. “such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he breathed into her ear, allowing her to move her own hand down to fully grasp just how hard he was at the sight of her. she nodded, skin gently flushed from want and his attention.
tentatively, she palmed him, applying just enough pressure to not seem shy, but not being overzealous and presumptuous about how much pressure he would maybe like or want. roman responded beautifully to her touch, groaning especially husky when her finger rubbed the tip of his length, swirling the budding beads of precum around. his own hand shifted so that he could slip right through her panties; her own arousal coated his fingers in an unabashed, honeyed gloss. “sorry,” she mumbled, though she only sounded semi-repentant.
roman smirked against her skin, wetly smacking her pussy; she could only squeeze his dick harder for that. “cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he mused mirthfully, spanking her again, “but, i can’t blame you, can i? that’s how you got that championship.”
there was a part of her that lit up embarrassingly at the mere prospect that roman reigns watched her championship match, however short it was. when she mustered more courage to look up and gauge his reaction, she could only see pride reflected in his gaze, but also an awareness that he knew she wasn’t expecting it. “of course i watched, baby,” he chided fondly, kissing her forehead and then her pout away, “wanted to see you win your first world championship—the first of many. now, up you get, ‘cause i want you sitting on my cock.”
sue her. she was eager, exuberantly eager while she shifted her hips, allowing him to remove her panties. her own fingers worked to quickly undo his pants, pushing them and his undergarments far down enough to unsheath his length. she adjusted so that his tip brushed her slit, whining pleasurably every time the mushroomed head brushed her sensitive clit. “shit,” she whispered, overstimulated, “how are you gonna fit, you’re so fucking big?”
“don’t worry, baby.” his voice was cocksure, self-assured the only way a multi-time world champion and someone completely aware of his looks and its effect on other people. he nearly knocked the breath from her lungs with his cocky smirk as he promised, “i’ll make it fit.”
in one fluid motion, he effortlessly transitioned to slipping the tip inside her gummy walls, engendering a broken moan past her lips, arguably loud enough to shatter his eardrum. roman didn’t seem to care as he gripped her hips firmly, gravity taking over to have her impaling herself onto his dick. “holy fuck,” she gasped. her lips furled into a needy pout, one roman indulged with a searing kiss to her lips, enough of a distraction for the overwhelm that was just him filling her. she shivered and pulsed when she realized that he wasn’t even entirely in yet. that caused roman to groan, an animalistic sound that sent shivers down her spine.
“such a good girl,” he growled into her mouth. his tongue swiped the roof of her mouth, absorbing her squirming and pants with relish. roman’s other hand wandered down to rub tight circles at her needy clit. naturally, her walls spasmed; naturally, he reacted accordingly by spanking her with his heavy hand. it resonated within the metal confines of the car, and her own noises immediately followed suit.
“sir, please,” her voice was wrecked, as it only could be, but still, there was a dreaminess that roman found endearing as he set the pace for her—slow, but thorough. insistent, though not forceful. he only lifted her off half of his length, keeping her full at all times. roman kept his lips on her, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. his hand continued their marking endeavors, heating her ass in rhythm with his hips.
he sounded smug as he wondered, “yeah, baby? ‘please’ what?”
her breath faltered, fingers curling to undo the neatly tied bun of his mane, raking her nails through his illustrious mane. she didn’t yank. he seemed to appreciate that she only tugged with minimal pressure. he smiled against her lips, rewarding her with a steeper bounce, pulling out so only his tip remained before impaling her again and again. any time she attempted to formulate a comprehensible word, he swallowed it with a heady kiss and smack to her asscheek, which made her forget what she wanted to say in the first place.
not that she had much he could parse to begin with other than saying “please” and “sir” like they were the only two words remaining in her lexicon. even then, she wasn’t able to even manage a syllable that simple. that was how he seemed to prefer it based on the thorough thrusts of his hips against hers.
he groaned in her mouth just right when she tugged his tresses again, twice in quick succession and one longer tug. she wasn’t sure if she could explain to him if she was close with how he kept subsuming her mewls and starts of words into his groans and grunts. at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could call what they were doing really kissing so much as a mashing of tongue and teeth. she figured he could tell she was reaching the edge to her climax through the fervent way her walls pulsed around him like a butterfly struggling to escape its cocoon.
“close, aren’t you, babygirl?” he chuckled, her nods rapid and messy. she gripped his hair firmer, more demanding now that she teetered on that edge of release.
she begged, eyes welling with unshed tears from overstimulation, “p-please, sir! wanna cum!” her lungs gasped for oxygen when he delivered on her request, transitioning into thrusting more calculatedly, angling right up at the spot that had her seeing stars.
“right there, baby?” he murmured, repeating that particular thrust. her frame vibrated atop his lap as her climax washed over in unceremonious, reckless fashion. she wailed, throat ripping itself out from the weight of her scream. roman didn’t take that much more to follow after her, spilling those pearlescent ribbons deep inside her cunt with a deep roar briefly reminiscent of the ones preluding his spear. “fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he praised heavily, “sweetest fucking pussy for me.”
he continued thrusting through the aftershocks, arms firmly locked around her while she vibrated in his arms. “i got you, honey,” roman promised, kissing the side of her head while he tempered his pistoning down. he kept her on his lap, letting her tug on his hair enough to anchor her to this plane of existence. her breath fanned against his lips as she stole a kiss from him. he didn’t say much other than repeating his promise, forcing her lungs to follow his cadence until she could do it on her own.
when she did recover, she whispered, “sir,” her voice cracked at the edges from practically screaming herself hoarse.
“you did so good for me, baby. i’m so proud of you.” he punctuated his praise with a kiss to her hairline, not minding the sweat pearling there from exertion. from how he looked at her, how he sounded, she knew he meant it. she smiled, the first one she could feel from the past two days—she knew his pride went beyond her performance on his lap and extended to the two belts stacked atop one another in the backseat.
“thank you,” she responded with a shy heat to her cheeks. her hand moved away from his hair, resting on his heart while her fingers twirled some strands of his hair. roman smiled, one of the softer ones he reserved for his family, mainly. she flushed at the honor of being one of its recipients.
she gasped when he shifted just enough to start the car, accidentally shifting her hips to roll just right against his own. he groaned, sending her a raised eyebrow and barely contained mirth in his eyes. she shrugged, semi-apologetic. roman merely adjusted her positioning so they were both more comfortable as he started reversing out of the parking space and out into the vibrant vegas streets.
“you’re crazy,” she murmured, breathless as she glimpsed outside the window, allowing the oversaturated nightlife to consume her vision while he drove them both back to the hotel.
“yeah, well,” roman responded with the assurance of a champion, of being her champion, “i’m the tribal chief.” he said it like it was simple.
maybe it was to him. her thoughts, naturally, swirled around to the aftermath and to what monday would bring. New challengers, new threats, the inevitable paranoia—she wasn’t sure where she would stand as the weight of the belt grew more prominent on her shoulder, the responsibility chipping at the wide-eyed woman who only ever dreamt of carrying something as prestigious as the women's world championship. as if that wasn’t enough, her mind fabricated worst-case hypotheticals about their nebulous relationship given her feelings and how roman reciprocated, apparently. she wouldn’t be able to look at him without thinking of the mindblowing and grounding sex they had after wrestlemania. She didn’t factor that he would be there more frequently now, either. She could easily visualize the inevitable wetness growing at every instance. To make matters worse, she wasn’t sure what he wanted beyond just the celebratory sex, on the minuscule chance he would change his mind. or—worse—if he only did it out of pity.
before she could fret herself into the next century, roman cut her spiral short with a firm remark, eyes focused on the road, “don’t worry about tomorrow, baby.” at the red light, he tilted her chin towards him with a thumb and index finger. “just focus on me, alright? i got you. i promise. i’m not going anywhere.”
it suddenly struck her that he perhaps meant it beyond just trying to tether her back into her own body at this point, even if that intention still stood. her eyes peered up at his features as he returned to focusing on the road, applying gradual acceleration on the pedal as the car continued along the route. she parsed the relaxation in his posture, paired with the understated confidence that things would work out in their favor. her eyes flitted back to the two belts, resting like a perfect match, a picturesque display of harmony.
shifting just a little more, she rested her head along his heart, listening to his heartbeat while her own rammed at full throttle in anticipation of what the future brought her. starting with, naturally, the growing hardness still inside her.
TW: Lowkey emotional y’all. It’s basically Y/N avenging Punk losing his title at SummerSlam. Regular wrestling violence. SMUT!!! MDNI!! Oral (m & f receiving), pnv, creampie, use of nicknames (slut, whore, etc.), praise kink, choking kink, rough sex, fingering, hair pulling, marking, just lots of smut lmao. Also, I had a request that was somewhat similar to this, but I forgot to add it. So I’m so sorry to the anon that requested it 😭
Tags: @reebs-luvs-rhodes-and-wrestling
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
Y/N watches on from backstage nervously as Phil continues on with his match against Gunther. Her match isn’t until tomorrow, a triple threat against Naomi and Rhea for the Women’s World Championship, but she wasn’t going to miss her man’s match against the Ring General.
Phil hadn’t told her anything about the match. She has no idea what the outcome will be, but just watching the first few minutes, she knew it was going to be brutal. She watches as Phil gets his hits in, the match clearly in the shine stage. However, when the cutoff comes, she flinches as Gunther’s chop echoes off Phil’s chest.
They’re both professionals. They wouldn’t sandbag each other on such an important match. But that still doesn’t mean Y/N doesn’t get squeamish seeing him get hit so roughly. She’s taken her fair share of chops, but none of Gunther’s caliber.
“C’mon baby…” she mutters under her breath, biting her nails.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous,” Pam says teasingly as she walks up to Y/N, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. “Not even for your own match.”
“I just don’t want him to get hurt,” Y/N admits, her eyes never leaving the screen, but she does lean into her friend.
“Well, I can’t promise he won’t,” Pam says softly. “But I know his main goal is to get back here to you in one piece,” she rubs her shoulder reassuringly. “You scare him more than anything, and you were very adamant about him making it back to you.”
Y/N laughs softly, looking down briefly before glancing back up to the screen. Phil lands a good strike making her grin. It was one she remembered running through with him. “I trust him. I know he’ll be okay. But…” she exhales loudly, “Doesn’t stop me from worrying about him.”
“You’ve always been a worry wart,” Pam chuckles. “You should try relaxing every now and again. It’s good for ya.”
“I’ll relax once this match is over,” Y/N huffs out.
Pam pats Y/N’s back, “Well, don’t give yourself wrinkles. At least not before tomorrow.” She pats her back before taking off towards production, one of the writers calling out to her.
Y/N zeroes in back on the match. She watches her boyfriend and Gunter climb on top of the announce table. A gasp leaves her lips when Punk takes Gunther down, the man hitting the table face first before falling down behind it. Phil falls to the floor, crawling across slowly. She knew he was selling, but part of her knew some of him was hurt.
That’s when Gunther emerges from behind the table, blood cascading down his face. Y/N covers her mouth, feeling terrible for the Ring General, but mostly just grateful it wasn’t Phil in that position. If she saw him emerge with that amount of blood on his face, she would’ve lost her mind.
Punk slides over to the corner of the ring, wincing as he catches his breath. Y/N can feel her heart rate increasing, waiting and hoping this match is nearing the end. She despises the fact he wouldn’t tell her the way this match was going to go. What was going to happen.
Punk scrambles to pull himself up the side of the ring. Gunther manages to stumble to his feet, rushing into the ring before Punk can. Eventually, Phil gets to his feet, pulling himself inside. The sweat matted his hair to his forehead. He winced once more before cornering Gunther at the turnbuckle. He throws a few strikes before hitting him with a running knee. Y/N holds her breath as Punk climbs up to the top rope before delivering a flying elbow to the Ring General.
He’s tired, she can see it. But he uses the crowd to his advantage, taking their cheers and morphing it into energy. He makes his “go to sleep” hand gesture before turning his attention back to Gunther. He tries to pick him up, but the larger man manages to slip off Punk's back before locking in the sleeper hold.
“Damn it…” Y/N mumbles, foot bouncing rapidly. They’re nearing the end, she can feel it. But Punk has never been the type to tap. He wouldn’t lose this match to the sleeper. It’s not in his blood. Creative would never book him that way.
Punk claws at Gunther’s hands, the blood on the Austrian man’s face blocking whatever sight he had. She exhales loudly as Punk makes it to his feet, fighting out of the hold. Her jaw drops slightly as Phil gets Gunther on his shoulders before delivering a perfect GTS.
She shakes her head when Gunther remains on his feet. He staggers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Punk’s chest heaves with each difficult breath before he finds the strength to hoist him up and hits him with a second GTS.
Gunther falls to the floor, allowing Punk to dive in for the cover.
1…
2…
3…
CM Punk is the new world champion.
Y/N feels her heart practically leapfrog out of her chest. She smacks a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears. “He did it…” she mumbles. There’s a short pause before she laughs joyously. “Oh my fucking gosh. He did it!”
She feels her feet carrying her to gorilla before she can stop herself. She can see in passing monitors the emotions on her boyfriend's face. The way tears fill his eyes as he clutches the title he so desperately wanted to win. He hugs it towards himself like if he were to hold it any looser, it might disappear from his grasp. He deserves this. Out of everyone she knows, he deserves this win. Over ten years he’s waited for this moment, and now he finally got it.
She’s about to run out there to celebrate with him in the ring, kayfabe be damned, when the familiar scream of Seth Rollins music hits. Y/N pauses, her blood running cold as she sees the back of Seth’s man bun disappear from behind the curtain.
There’s no way. He’s hurt. That’s what he and Becky have been telling people. That’s why he hasn’t shown up to work. He wouldn’t be cashing in. He couldn’t be. Not when Punk just won. Not when he just fought like hell to get a title he deserved. After losing to John Cena at Night of Champions, this had to be his moment. They wouldn’t take it away from him.
Y/N slows, her footsteps bringing her to the edge of the curtain as she peeks out from behind. She can hear people whispering for her to move away, but she didn’t care. She had to see for herself. Seth strolls out with his crutches, Paul holding his money in the bank briefcase. Punk looks gutted for a moment before covering it back up with his tough facade. For a moment, Y/N thinks it’ll be okay as Seth turns back around to head backstage. It’s just a warning. That he’s still lingering in the background.
…Until he drops the crutches.
“No,” She shakes her head in disbelief.
Before she can even blink, Rollins is darting down the runway, knee completely fine. Punk grips his title as tightly as he can, crouching down to prepare himself for the fight of his life. He’s beaten down, broken, emotional from finally winning the world heavyweight championship. Of course Seth would cash in now.
Y/N feels her blood boil, grinding her teeth together. She can’t interfere. She can’t do anything. Not now. Maybe if she had known before, she could’ve pulled some strings with creative. That’s why Phil hadn’t told her. That’s why he held the title as close to him as he could because he wouldn’t have it for long.
Seth slides into the ring, Punk dropping the title to punch him at full capacity. He tries to lift Rollins up for a GTS, but Seth elbows him in the perfect spot, causing Punk to drop him. Seth manages to get Punk down on the mat, landing haymakers on the back of his head. He grasps his briefcase before slamming it onto the Voice of the Voiceless’ back. One after the other. Y/N watches in anger as Rollins spins around and hands his briefcase to Jessica, officially cashing in.
Seth Rollins is cashing in his money in the bank contract.
With Punk practically defensless, Seth lines up in the opposite corner, gaining momentum before stomping his head into the ground. Phil falls face down, selling the hell out of the move. Seth drops to his knees, rolling Punk over before hooking his arm under Phil’s leg and pinning him.
1… 2… 3.
And just like that, Punk is no longer the champion.
Watching Seth celebrate killed Y/N. She wants nothing more than to run out there and kick his ass for what he just stole from Phil. She understands it’s part of the business. But after all this build up, all of the “almost times” creative gave Punk, they took it away again.
It’s like every time Phil gets close, it’s taken away from him. And ninety percent of his failures have been caused because of Seth. She knows that Seth has say in his storylines. He has pull with creative. He didn’t have to do this. He chose to.
Seth sits down right in front of Punk’s limp body, title slung over his shoulder while Bronson and Bron continue to rub it in. Eventually, the camera cuts and the show ends. The fans in the audience are all reeling. Seth and his faction are the first to stand up, sauntering backstage with all the power they could want.
Y/N doesn’t move away from the curtain, her feet planted firm as everyone goes about their business. She continues staring at her boyfriend who is just now struggling to his feet, leaving the ring completely deflated.
Her jaw clenches as Seth and the rest of his posse push past the curtain. Seth stops abruptly, coming face to face with the ball of fury standing in front of him. She’s not showing it, her outward appearance remaining composed, but being the manipulative man he is, he can see exactly how she’s feeling.
He tilts his head, smirk ever so present. He pats the title on his shoulder, “Do me a favor Y/N/N… thank your man for keepin’ it warm for me while I made my way out. Really appreciate it.”
He lets out that obnoxious cackle, nodding for his henchmen to follow after him. She inhales sharply, fighting every urge to turn around and get herself suspended. The only thing that stops her is when her boyfriend stumbles through the curtain, practically almost falling into her arms. She wastes no time in pulling him close to her. If this hurt her as much as it did, it must’ve felt like torture for him.
Phil stumbles into her arms, his weight heavier than she expected. His chest is heaving, the sweat on his skin still warm from the lights and the fight. Up close, she can hear how ragged his breathing is, not from the match alone, but from everything that just happened. His hands clutch at her sides like he’s trying to ground himself.
She doesn’t say anything at first. She just wraps her arms around him tighter, resting her chin on his damp hair as people walk past, crew members, talent, agents, all of them casting sympathetic glances his way but saying nothing. This wasn’t their moment to intrude on.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she murmurs finally, her voice low, meant only for him. She shifts, hooking her arm around his back, guiding him away from gorilla and deeper into the maze of hallways. He doesn’t resist. His head is down, shoulders rounded, the championship dream slipping further behind with every step they take.
She keeps walking until she finds an empty corner near one of the unused dressing rooms. It’s quiet, just the faint hum of a vending machine and the muffled chaos of backstage somewhere far away.
“Phil…” she says gently, stepping in front of him. She takes his face in her hands, thumbs brushing the damp strands of hair off his forehead. His eyes meet hers, and it’s like looking at a man who just got the air punched out of his soul.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, not accusing, but pained.
His jaw works, but no words come out at first. She can see him swallow hard, his throat bobbing. Finally, he exhales, voice cracking on the edges.
“Because I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he admits, eyes darting away like he can’t bear to see her reaction. “I came back to win. To prove I could still do it. And tonight… I had it. I finally had it.” His voice breaks on that word. “And the second I did, they told me I wouldn’t keep it for longer than five damn minutes.”
Her stomach twists. She’s angry—white-hot angry—but her first instinct is to wrap him up in her arms again. So she does, pulling him against her chest, her hand stroking the back of his neck. “I’m not disappointed in you,” she says firmly, pressing her cheek to his temple. “I’m pissed for you. You’ve fought like hell to get here. You’ve eaten more crap from this business than anyone else would’ve survived, and you’re still standing. If anyone deserves that title, it’s you. Not Seth. You.”
His arms tighten around her, like her words are the only thing holding him up. He breathes out slowly. “I know I’m closer to the end than the beginning. And the time to win titles… it’s running out.” His voice is quiet now, almost a confession. “Every time I get close, it gets ripped away. Makes me wonder if it’s ever gonna happen.”
She pulls back just enough to cup his face again, forcing him to look at her. “It will. And I’ll be here every damn time it does or doesn’t. But don’t you ever think you’ve got nothing left. Not to me.”
He tries to smile, but it’s faint, like the muscle memory is there but the joy isn’t. She leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. It’s not a heated kiss—it’s steady, grounding, a promise she can’t quite put into words yet.
When she pulls back, her mind is already working, already sparking with an idea. Something he doesn’t need to know yet. “I’ll be right back,” she whispers, brushing her thumb over his cheek.
Confusion flickers across his face instantly, and his hands tighten at her waist. “No. Please… don’t go. Not right now.”
She smiles, leaning in so her forehead rests against his. “Five seconds. That’s all. And when I come back, I’ll still be yours.”
It’s the way she says it, soft, certain, that makes him reluctantly let his hands fall away. She kisses him again, slower this time, before stepping back. He watches her go with tired, wary eyes, still not sure what she’s about to do.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
Y/N’s boots hit the concrete with purpose, every step echoing in the narrow hallway. The buzz of backstage chatter, the crackle of radios, the distant thud of someone’s theme music, it all blurs into white noise behind the pounding in her ears. She’s not walking so much as cutting through the space, weaving between production crew and talent like a blade through fabric. Her jaw is locked, and her hands are fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms.
Phil’s face, defeated, exhausted, trying to hide how much it gutted him, is burned into her mind. It fuels every ounce of her anger, stoking it into something sharp and focused. She’s not just mad for him. She’s furious at the system that keeps doing this to him.
She spots Paul Levesque a few feet ahead, leaning against a road case while talking with a stagehand. Without hesitation, she calls out, her voice cutting through the noise.
“Paul.”
The way she says his name, low, firm, edged, makes him turn instantly. His brows lift slightly when he sees her expression. The stagehand mutters something about getting back to work and quickly disappears, sensing the shift in the air.
Paul holds his hands up slightly, like he’s already trying to head off whatever is about to happen. “Alright, kid, slow down—”
“No.” Her voice cuts clean through his. “You don’t get to ‘slow down’ me right now. You owe me.”
That gets his eyebrows up. “I owe you?”
“Yes.” She closes the distance between them in a few quick strides, staring him down like she’s daring him to deny it. “Royal Rumble—you remember? I was supposed to go over. But you wanted Charlotte’s big return to be the thing everyone talked about. So I waited. Then Elimination Chamber—you kept me out of the win because the Bianca, Rhea, and Iyo story needed another month of oxygen. And I waited again.” Her voice sharpens with each word. “I’ve been patient, Paul. That patience is gone.”
Paul exhales slowly, running a hand over his face. He does love her. Hell, he’s the one who’s always said she’s money for the business, and yeah, he owes her. He knows it. But her eyes right now? They’re dangerous.
He inhales sharply, long and slow, rubbing his beard like he’s stalling for time. “You’ve had good spots, Y/N—”
She cuts him off with a look that could slice steel. “Don’t. Don’t give me the company line right now. You know damn well you’ve been holding me in place because it suited the board, the booking, the storylines. Fine. I played the game. But you promised me a favor. And I’m cashing it in.”
He shifts, arms folding across his chest. “Alright… what is it you want?”
“I want to interfere in Becky and Lyra’s match tomorrow.” She says it like she’s dropping a grenade at his feet.
His brows furrow. “That’s after your triple threat with Naomi and Rhea.”
“I know.”
“You’re gonna go out there twice? Right after wrestling?”
“Yes.” Her tone is so even it’s unsettling.
He shakes his head slowly. “Becky’s supposed to win, Y/N.”
“I don’t care.” The words are quiet, but they hit harder than if she’d shouted them. “You’ll figure out how to fix it. Bayley can challenge Lyra after for the title. Hell, I’ll challenge her if I have to. But I’m not asking you, Paul. This is the favor you owe me. And I’m calling it in now.”
Something in her expression makes him pause—it’s not reckless rage, it’s cold, calculated certainty. He studies her like he’s trying to figure out what the hell could be worth her burning her one piece of leverage.
“You sure you want to use it on this?” His voice is quieter now.
Her gaze doesn’t waver. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
He sighs, heavy, dragging a hand over his face. “You’re gonna make my life hell, you know that?”
“Probably.” Her lips twitch, but there’s no humor in it. “But you’ll thank me later.”
He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, before finally meeting her eyes again. “Alright. We’ll figure out the right angle.”
“Good.” She doesn’t wait for him to say anything else before turning on her heel, her mind already assembling the moment she’ll make it happen. She doesn’t need him to know why she’s doing this. He wouldn’t understand anyway.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
Y/N had barely said a word the entire walk back to the hotel. She didn’t need to. Her hand stayed looped through Phil’s arm, her thumb brushing absently over the inside of his wrist in a rhythm that was more about grounding him than guiding him. When they reached their room, she quietly pulled out the keycard, pushed the door open, and gave him a soft nudge inside.
Phil moved on autopilot, shoulders still hunched, his jaw tight. She could feel the tension radiating off him, the way he was still replaying the loss in his head.
“Sit,” she murmured, pressing her palm to the center of his chest and guiding him to the edge of the bed.
He didn’t argue, but he didn’t look at her either. Y/N crouched down in front of him, tugging at the laces of his boots. “You don’t have to—”
“Yeah, I do,” she interrupted quietly, glancing up at him. Her voice was gentle, but there was no room for debate. “Let me.”
One boot, then the other, sliding them off with care. She reached for the jacket next, easing it from his shoulders, and then peeled away the black tank top he’d thrown on over his bare torso. She folded each item and set them aside neatly, not because it mattered, but because she knew the orderliness might help him breathe easier.
He huffed out a small, humorless laugh. “You treating me like I’m a hundred years old?”
“No,” she said simply, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I’m treating you like I love you.”
That shut him up for a second.
She took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, twisting the knobs until the water came out hot enough to fog the mirror. Phil leaned on the doorframe, watching her. “You seriously don’t have to do this, sweetheart.”
Her nails grazed his scalp as she scratched the back of his head. His breath hitched — not in a way he could control. He felt that familiar sting behind his eyes again, and it pissed him off because it meant he was gonna cry.
“You’re right,” she said softly, “I don’t have to. I want to.”
Phil just let her undress him the rest of the way, the steam curling around them, and when she stepped in behind him, it wasn’t about anything physical, it was about keeping him upright when the weight of the night was threatening to crush him.
She lathered shampoo into his hair, her nails scratching lightly, and for the first time since the match ended, his shoulders dropped. “God, that feels good,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
“I know,” she said with a faint smile. “You always tense up after a loss. Like you think you’re gonna carry it forever if you don’t keep it in your muscles.”
“I am gonna carry it forever,” he muttered, voice low.
She didn’t argue. Instead, she rinsed the suds from his hair and reached for the body wash, her touch steady and deliberate as she worked over his chest, arms, and back. “You don’t have to win every title for me to be proud of you, you know.”
“I know,” he admitted, leaning into her hand as she washed his neck. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss me off.”
“I’d worry if it didn’t,” she teased, and he almost smiled.
When they stepped out, she wrapped him in a towel, drying his hair with another before pulling him into clean sweatpants and a soft t-shirt. He made a face when she reached for the moisturizer.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” she said, dabbing it on his cheeks before he could escape.
“Feels like I’m in a damn spa.”
“You’re welcome,” she shot back, and that earned her the smallest of smirks. “Making sure you don’t look like a leather belt by the time you’re sixty.”
She got him into bed, tucking his water bottle on his nightstand. It’s freshly filled with ice because she knows that’s how he prefers it. As soon as she slid in beside him, he pulled her into his chest like he couldn’t stand the space between them any longer.
They stayed quiet for a while, just the hum of the AC filling the room. Finally, he spoke. “What’d you have to do before we left?”
She tilted her head up to look at him, kissing the tip of his nose. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. You’ll see tomorrow. Tonight’s about you.”
His voice was hoarse when he said, “What I need is you.”
Her chest tightened. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ll always have me. And not just tonight. Until the I take my last breath.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “I hate losing. I hate watching opportunities slip. But… I’m not stupid. I know how lucky I am to have you in my corner. Hell, half the time you are my corner.”
She smiled, brushing her fingers through his damp hair. “And you’re mine. Which is why I know your time’s coming, Phil. Because you’re you. Not because you’re CM Punk. Because you’re Phil Brooks — the most stubborn, determined, amazing man in the world.”
He chuckled quietly. “Careful, you’re making me sound like a Hallmark movie.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “Then maybe you’ll remember it.”
Phil kissed her temple, lingering there. “I don’t forget things like that.”
“Good,” she echoed, and they stayed wrapped together, the quiet settling into something soft and safe, a place neither of them needed to win to deserve.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
Y/N stood in front of a mirror in the bustling backstage area, tugging her gloves tight as she checked her gear one last time. The black-and-gold ensemble hugged her in all the right places, glinting under the fluorescent lights, her hair pulled back in a sleek style that screamed confidence. She smiled at a passing production assistant, exchanging a quick “good luck” with another wrestler who slapped her arm as they walked by.
But then her smile shifted when she caught sight of him.
Phil.
He was moving slower than usual, hands in his hoodie pockets, shoulders slouched, still carrying the weight of last night’s loss like it was chained to him. But the moment his eyes landed on her, his entire face softened. Pride replaced the heaviness, his lips twitching into the faintest smile as if the sight of her knocked the air right out of him.
“You look… Jesus,” he breathed as he stopped in front of her, eyes dragging from head to toe. “...You are not walking out there looking like that,” he said finally, voice low, a little rough.
She raised a brow. “Why’s that?”
“Because, sweetheart,” he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot, “if you do, I’m gonna end up jumping that barricade, dragging you backstage in front of twenty thousand people, and finishing what this outfit’s already starting.”
Her mouth twitched into a smirk, but she didn’t flinch when he got close — close enough that the heat from his body cut through the cool air of the locker room.
“You know the camera’s gonna be right in your face,” he went on, leaning down until his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “And all I’m gonna be thinking about is how fast I can get you out of this when it’s over.”
She fought the shiver that ran down her spine. “I’ve got a match to win, Brooks.”
“I know,” he murmured, thumb skimming along her hip. “And I’ll be out there cheering for you, like a good boyfriend… but don’t think for a second I’m not gonna be picturing you in that gear under me the whole damn time.”
Her breath caught before she shoved his chest lightly. “You’re disgusting.”
He leaned into her touch, pressing his forehead to hers for a moment. “I mean it. You look ready to steal the whole damn show. Hell, they might as well not book the rest of the card after you go out there.”
Her grin was warm, but her eyes searched his face. “You okay?”
“I’m better than I was,” he admitted, rubbing her hip. “Still pissed about last night, still wanna punch a wall about it, but… seeing you like this? Knowing you’re about to go out there and own it? Makes it a little easier to swallow.”
“Good,” she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Because I need you supporting me. I need you loud.”
“Loud is my specialty,” he said with a smirk. “You know I’ll be yelling my lungs out for you.”
“Perfect.” She straightened his hoodie, her voice dropping just for him. “When this is over, we’ll figure out how to get that damn title around your waist. One way or another, it’s gonna happen.”
His hands slid down, gripping the back of her thighs just enough to make her laugh. “Don’t go making me promises I’m gonna hold you to.”
“Oh, I know you will.”
For a second, they just stood there, locked in their little bubble while the chaos of SummerSlam prep swirled around them. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes locked on hers like he wanted to memorize her face before she went out.
“You’ve been patient,” he said quietly, like it was something only she deserved to hear. “Too patient. You deserve this win tonight, Y/N. And I hope to God you get it. Not because I’m biased—well, okay, I am—but because you’ve earned it ten times over.”
Her chest tightened, and she pulled him in for a slow kiss, not caring who saw. “You’re my favorite thing in this business, Phil. Win or lose.”
“Yeah?” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.
“Yeah.”
He smiled, that rare, real smile that only came out when she got past all the walls. “Go out there and make ‘em remember why you’re the best. And, uh…” he squeezed her butt, earning a playful swat from her, “kick their asses for me, too. At least one of us should come home with gold.”
She was still smiling when Rhea’s music hit, the bass thundering through the arena. She kissed him once more, quick but full of intent, before pulling away.
“Be right back,” she promised. “Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
He watched her walk toward the curtain, pride radiating off him even as that ache from last night lingered.
“Go get ‘em, champ,” he called after her, his voice low but firm.
And she didn’t even have to look back to know he’d be right there, front row, making good on his promise to be loud.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
The arena was already buzzing from the last match, but the lights suddenly cut, plunging the crowd into darkness. A heartbeat thumped over the speakers, slow, steady, then built into a rapid pounding as golden spotlights swirled through the arena. A wall of smoke rolled across the stage, and a giant LED screen lit up with Y/N L/N in bold, metallic gold lettering.
Then her music hit. The first beat sent the entire crowd into a frenzy — chants of “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!” echoing from the rafters before she even stepped through the curtain.
She emerged slowly, bathed in golden light, draped in a dramatic floor-length jacket that shimmered with rhinestones and metallic threads. A championship-caliber entrance without even holding the belt. Her hair was perfect, makeup sharp, and her ring gear matched her larger-than-life presentation, sleek, black-and-gold with intricate designs that glittered under the lights.
Y/N paused at the top of the ramp, smirk tugging at her lips as she looked over the roaring crowd. She lifted her arms, fingers splayed wide, as pyros exploded from both sides of the stage, golden sparks raining down behind her. The smoke curled around her boots as she began her walk.
This wasn’t a walk. This was a strut.
Every step said I own this place.
Fans leaned over the barricade to reach for her, some holding handmade signs with her catchphrases, others just screaming her name like it was a prayer. She tossed her head slightly, smirking at the camera that panned low, catching her gear sparkle with each stride.
Halfway down the ramp, she stopped, turned to face the hard cam, and pointed directly at it with a devilish smile. The camera zoomed in just enough to catch her mouthing: Watch closely.
When she reached the ring, Y/N grabbed the middle rope, leaned back in a teasing stretch, and then slid under the bottom rope in one smooth motion — straight into a kneel. She popped up fluidly, discarding her jacket, and locked eyes with Naomi and Rhea, who were already waiting.
Naomi leaned against the ropes with a cocky smirk, tilting her head as if to say, cute entrance, but it won’t help you. Rhea cracked her neck, pacing like a predator waiting to pounce.
The three of them began to circle. The energy was tense, the crowd buzzing, each woman looking for the slightest opening.
DING DING DING.
Y/N and Naomi lunged first, locking up. Naomi tried to overpower, but Y/N transitioned instantly into a deep arm drag. Naomi popped back up — only to be met with a spinning heel kick from Y/N that dropped her to a knee. Rhea came charging, looking for a clothesline, but Y/N ducked under, springboarding off the middle rope to hit her with a flying forearm.
The crowd roared.
Rhea rolled to her feet, smirking like she appreciated the fight. She swung wide with a lariat — Y/N ducked again, grabbed Rhea by the arm, and launched herself into a tilt-a-whirl headscissors, sending the eradicator sprawling into the corner.
Naomi took advantage, yanking Y/N down by the hair. The boos from the crowd only made her grin wider. She stomped Y/N into the mat, then dragged her up for a snap suplex, following with a quick cover.
1! Kickout.
The match quickly turned chaotic. Rhea bulldozed both women with a double clothesline. She hoisted Y/N up for a delayed vertical suplex — holding her there long enough to let the crowd count — before slamming her hard to the mat. She went for Naomi next, driving her into the corner with shoulder thrusts.
Y/N came flying in from behind with a running knee strike to Rhea’s back, sending her stumbling forward. Y/N grabbed Naomi and hit her with a flawless rolling German suplex, bridging into a pin.
1! 2!
Rhea broke it up with a boot to Y/N’s ribs.
From there, the momentum swung wildly — Y/N countering Rhea’s Riptide into a DDT, Naomi countering Y/N’s springboard crossbody with a mid-air dropkick, Rhea catching Naomi out of the air and throwing her like a ragdoll. The crowd ate up every reversal, every near-fall.
Then came the final sequence.
Rhea had Y/N in her sights, charging for a big boot — and connected. Y/N went down hard, the crowd gasping. Rhea tried to drop into the cover.
However, Naomi slid in at lightning speed, using her momentum to push Rhea into a roll up pin. Normally, Rhea would kick out of that easily, but Naomi grabbed Rhea by the waistband of her gear and yanked it just low enough to force her to stop kicking out or risk giving the crowd a full moon. The crowd erupted in a mix of shocked laughter and boos as Naomi stacked her up.
1! 2! 3!
DING DING DING.
Naomi popped up, smirking like the devil as she clutched her title to her chest. The boos rained down, but she just held the belt high and mouthed “Still your champ” into the hard cam.
Meanwhile, Y/N sat up slowly, huffing, one arm wrapped around her ribs. Across the mat, Rhea was glaring daggers at Naomi, but when her eyes shifted to Y/N, something unspoken passed between them.
Rhea had never pinned or submitted her. Not once. Tonight was supposed to change that. It hadn’t.
Y/N gave her a slow, knowing smirk, like she’d just silently reminded Rhea: You still can’t beat me.
Rhea’s jaw clenched. The war between them wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
The second she stepped through the curtain, the roar of the crowd still ringing in her ears, Y/N was met with a line of crew members, producers, and fellow wrestlers, all throwing her smiles, fist bumps, and quick congratulations.
“Hell of a match out there,” one of the camera operators said as he passed, still shaking his head like he couldn’t believe some of the spots she pulled off.
“You looked like a damn superstar,” one of the makeup artists chimed in.
Y/N offered a polite nod and a small smile to each person, slowing only when she reached Paul Levesque.
Paul’s arms opened before she could even speak, pulling her into a solid, fatherly hug. “I’m proud of you,” he said in that gravelly tone, giving her shoulder a pat before pulling back. “You’ve got the TLC match to get your bearings before you head back out for the Becky and Lyra match. You good?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Paul.”
He gave her a knowing look, like he was reading between her words, then let her go. She continued down the hallway, her ribs aching from that brutal whip into the turnbuckle earlier. All she could think about was getting some ice and a moment to breathe.
But when she rounded the corner toward the locker room, she froze. Phil was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the hallway like a hawk. When his eyes landed on her, his expression shifted instantly, softening into that rare, unguarded smile he saved just for her.
He pushed off the wall and walked straight to her, pulling her into his arms before she could even say hello. His hand slid up the back of her neck, holding her close. “I’m proud of you, kid,” he murmured, his voice low but firm, the kind of tone that didn’t invite debate. “And… I’m sorry you didn’t get the title.”
She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his cheek like it was nothing. “Phil, it’s all storyline. I’m good with it. Honestly? I’d rather build the suspense.”
He smirked faintly but his eyes softened. “Yeah, well, suspense or not, you just put on the match of a lifetime. People are gonna be talking about this for years.”
That pulled a genuine exhale of satisfaction from her. “Hope so.”
It was then that he noticed the deep purple marks already beginning to bloom along her ribs. His brow furrowed instantly. “Jesus, babe, you’re already bruising. How hard did she hit you?”
“Phil—” she chuckled, resting her hand on his arm, “—I’m fine. A little banged up, sure, but that’s nothing new after a big match like that. You know that.”
“I know it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He eyed her like he was considering wrapping her in bubble wrap before every match.
She laughed, cupping his jaw in her hand, her thumb brushing along the edge of his scruff. “Tell you what… after this is all done and over with, we’ll grab dinner, go back to the hotel, and just… relax.”
His expression softened immediately, his shoulders loosening. “Yeah… I like that idea.” Then his eyes narrowed as she stepped toward the locker room door. “Wait– what are you doing?”
Her smirk was borderline mischievous. “Got something to take care of.” She opened the door halfway, glancing back over her shoulder. “You might wanna hang out by a monitor.”
His brow shot up, arms folding across his chest. “Should I be worried?”
She just winked. “Always.”
He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
“And you love it,” she shot back before slipping inside, leaving him in the hall with a grin tugging at his lips despite himself.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
The arena air buzzed with electricity, the steady roar of the crowd mixing with the faint metallic scent of pyros long burned out. Under the shadow of her black hoodie, Y/N moved like a phantom through the narrow backstage corridor, every step fueled by a dangerous cocktail of focus and fury. She kept her head low, strands of hair peeking out just enough to disguise her features from passing crew members.
From somewhere up ahead, she caught Phil’s voice, loud, tense, and scanning the area like a man who had already been searching too long.
"Hey, have you seen Y/N?" he asked a stagehand, the irritation under his words barely restrained.
The guy shook his head. “Nah, man. Not back here.”
Phil swore under his breath, his footsteps moving off in the opposite direction.
Y/N didn’t slow. She couldn’t. The pounding of the crowd beyond the curtain was calling to her. But before she could hit the opening that led to the arena floor, another voice cut in, sharper, cockier, and laced with that infuriating arrogance she could recognize anywhere.
“…I’m telling you, it was worth it,” Seth Rollins was saying, his tone smug and conversational as if he were discussing what brand of coffee he liked. He was leaned casually against a road case, talking to Bron and Bronson Reed, both of whom looked entertained. “Faking the injury? Oh yeah, absolutely no regrets. It was never about the title for me, boys, it was about making sure Punk didn’t get it. That was my mission.”
Bron chuckled. “Pretty ruthless, man.”
Seth smirked wider, the glint in his eyes pure malice. “Yeah, well… if keeping him down means keeping his little girlfriend out of the spotlight too?” He gave a little shrug, feigning innocence. “That’s just a bonus. Why should she get her moment if it kills him to watch?”
The words hit Y/N like a match to gasoline. Heat surged in her veins. Her fingers flexed at her sides, itching to grab the nearest object and smash it over his head. She didn’t. Not yet. Instead, she let that fire simmer, let it curl through her chest until her pulse matched the deafening thrum of the crowd outside. This– this was the fuel she needed.
By the time she stepped through the curtain, the noise doubled, wrapping around her like a tidal wave. The match outside was chaos. Becky Lynch and Lyra Valkyria brawling on the floor near the timekeeper’s area, the referee distracted, the crowd rabid for every hit.
And then it happened. Becky grabbed a steel chair, raising it high above her head, about to crash it down on Lyra’s ribs. Y/N didn’t think. She ran. Charging down through the audience, weaving between stunned fans, she vaulted over the barricade just as Becky’s arms began their swing. Her hands shot out, snatching the chair mid-air.
The crack of metal stopping echoed.
Becky’s head whipped around, fiery hair swinging, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What the—?!”
She didn’t get to finish. Y/N yanked the chair from her grip and slammed the edge into Becky’s gut, sending her stumbling back into the barricade. The crowd exploded into a chorus of shock and cheers, camera flashes strobing across the chaos.
Corey Graves’ voice rang out from commentary. “What the hell is Y/N doing here?!”
Becky shook her head, still processing, but Y/N was already on her. A swift forearm to the jaw snapped Becky’s head sideways, and then Y/N was unloading. Kicks, punches, a vicious elbow that sent Becky sprawling to the floor. She didn’t stop. She grabbed a kendo stick from under the ring, the hollow rattle of bamboo promising pain, and cracked it across Becky’s back once, twice, three times, each hit more brutal than the last.
The stick splintered in her hands.
The audience was on their feet now, the roar deafening.
Michael Cole’s voice cut through, speculative and sharp. “I don’t know what’s going through Y/N’s head right now, but this… this could be revenge for Seth Rollins lying about his injury!”
Y/N grabbed a steel chair again, unfolding it just enough to slam the seat into Becky’s spine. Lynch let out a guttural cry, collapsing to her knees. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she hooked Becky’s arm, spun her around, and drove her down onto the chair with a snap DDT that left Becky motionless.
With Becky down, Y/N turned to Lyra, who was still slumped near the barricade. She reached down, grabbed a fistful of Lyra’s gear, and hauled her up with surprising ease. “C’mon, champ,” Y/N muttered, almost taunting. She shoved Lyra under the ropes, then physically dragged her over to Becky’s prone body.
“Cover her,” Y/N ordered, voice low but picked up by the camera mics.
Lyra blinked in disbelief, but her instincts kicked in. She hooked Becky’s leg. The referee slid into position.
One. Two. Three.
The bell rang, the crowd going ballistic as Lyra was handed the championship. Becky rolled onto her side, groaning, her eyes glassy with disbelief.
Y/N stood outside the ring, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. A slow, almost unhinged laugh rolled from her throat. The camera zoomed in on her face just as Becky’s realization sank in… she had lost the title, and Y/N was the reason why.
Y/N started walking backward up the ramp, her gaze locked on the nearest camera. She leaned in, pulling her hood back just enough for her smirk to show. “Oh,” she said, her voice dripping venom, “was some of my passive behavior misleading?”
The crowd roared at the callback to Becky’s words from the night before.
Y/N took a few more steps up the ramp, then glanced back at the lens one last time. “Tell your husband, Big Time Becks…” she said, her smirk widening, “I’m just getting started.”
With that, she disappeared backstage, leaving destruction, confusion, and the echo of her laughter behind.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
The second Y/N stepped through the curtain, the energy backstage was a live wire. Heads turned. People stopped mid-sentence. Agents, production crew, even the camera ops had that what the hell just happened? look on their faces. No one had been told. No one had seen it coming.
No one except Paul Levesque.
He was standing off to the side, headset half off, that small smirk tugging at his mouth when her eyes found him. They didn’t say a word, didn’t have to. Just one sharp nod from him, one from her, and the silent acknowledgment hung between them: Yeah… we pulled that off.
She kept walking, chin high, the chaos swirling around her like a storm she’d just set in motion.
She was three steps from clearing gorilla when it hit — the stomping, rapid sound of someone coming fast.
“HEY!”
Seth Rollins, with Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed flanking him like muscle, stormed toward her. Seth’s eyes were wide, jaw tight, the kind of furious where you can’t even blink without it shaking through you.
“You outta your damn mind?” he barked, voice already loud enough to pull attention from everyone nearby. “Who the hell do you think you are, getting involved in my wife’s match?!”
Y/N stopped mid-step, slowly turning toward him. Her smile was thin, razor-edged. “I think I’m the woman who’s man you screwed over when you decided to lie your ass off just to keep him from holding his title.”
“Ohhh, here we go,” Seth laughed, except it wasn’t amused, it was sharp, mocking. “You really wanna play the victim here? Your boy got outplayed. Simple. You don’t get to come sticking your nose in MY business because you can’t handle it.”
“This became my business,” Y/N shot back, taking a step toward him, “the second you made it personal. You couldn’t screw him out of a championship clean, no, you had to try and drag me down with him.”
Seth tilted his head, grin curling like he was daring her. “Oh, I’ll drag you down any day of the week, sweetheart. You wanna play in the big leagues, you better be ready to get knocked on your ass.”
Her voice dropped lower, dangerous. “Say ‘sweetheart’ again. See how quick I put you on your ass right here.”
The air between them went tight.
Bron and Bronson shifted, ready to step in if this went sideways, which, by the way Y/N moved in closer, nose almost brushing Seth’s, it was about two seconds from happening.
“You think you’re some kind of hero for this?” Seth sneered. “Newsflash — you just painted a target on your back so big, I could hit it from the parking lot.”
Y/N didn’t flinch. “Good. Makes it easier when I swing back.”
The tension spiked. Seth’s smirk faded into that slow burn glare, and his shoulders squared up. Y/N mirrored it, neither willing to break eye contact.
That’s when Phil appeared.
It was like he came out of nowhere. One moment Seth was in her face, the next, a hard shove sent Seth staggering back a step.
“You wanna fight somebody, Rollins?” Punk’s voice cut through the shouting. “Try me. I’m not hard to find.”
Now everyone was yelling. Agents moving in, Bron barking for people to calm down, Paul stepping forward to keep things from boiling over. Seth was still jawing, trying to get around the people holding him back, while Y/N stood there breathing hard, eyes locked on him like she’d finish this right now if they let her.
Finally, someone managed to herd her and Punk out of gorilla.
They stormed down the hallway in matching, wordless anger. Her hands were still clenched. His jaw was still tight. By the time they hit an empty stretch of hall, Punk stopped, dragging a hand down his face before running it through his hair.
“You are gonna give me an ulcer,” he said finally, voice still sharp but laced with something almost — almost — like laughter. “I can’t get any more gray hairs, Y/N. I’m maxed out.”
She smirked. “You love it.”
“No,” he corrected, stepping closer and pulling her into his chest. “I love you. You stressing me the hell out? Not so much.”
She shrugged against him like this was nothing. “I couldn’t just sit there and watch him brag about screwing you over. Not happening.”
“I mean– Y/N what the hell were you thinking?” He pulled back enough to look at her. “How the hell did you even…? Paul doesn’t just hand people a green light for something like that.”
Her grin was pure mischief. “I cashed in my favor.”
He blinked. “What favor?”
“The one from Rumble. And Chamber.”
Punk’s face went slack. “No. You didn’t.”
“Yeah,” she said lightly, like she’d just told him she bought milk on the way home. “Guess I’m fresh out now.”
His hands dropped from her shoulders in disbelief. “Y/N, that’s… you could’ve used that tonight for the title. For literally anything. Why would you burn it on—”
“You,” she cut in simply. “Because I don’t care about a title. I care about you. And it was worth it to wipe that smug look off Seth’s face.”
He opened his mouth to argue — but she kissed him before he could. When she pulled back, she was smiling. “They wanted to screw with you, so I screwed with them. Simple math.”
That fire in her eyes hit him like a freight train. It made his chest tight, and, if he was honest, his pulse a little faster for entirely different reasons. “You’re insane,” he said finally, smirking despite himself.
“You’re welcome.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned in and kissed her, slow, lingering, because yeah… she was insane, but she was his.
“Come on,” he said finally, voice low. “Let’s get the hell outta here before I start a fight I can’t finish.”
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
They barely made it halfway down the hallway before Phil’s fingers found hers again — not the casual, fleeting brush they sometimes shared, but a deliberate grip, threaded tight like he was afraid she might vanish if he let go. His hand was warm, solid, the kind of hold that tethered her to him no matter how many people they passed. The corridor stretched on, but the air between them was heavier than the carpet under their boots. He didn’t even try to disguise it — the way his gaze stayed locked on her profile like a predator who had already decided the kill was his.
They passed a couple of people in the hallway to their room. One offered Phil a quiet nod. He didn’t return it. He wasn’t looking at anything but her.
By the time they reached the room, that look had only deepened. The second the door shut behind them, the quiet was deafening. Y/N turned, half ready to speak, but froze. That stare rooted her to the spot.
It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t the kind of heat you saw in the ring. It was quieter. More dangerous. His hoodie was still unzipped, hair a little mussed, eyes darker than they’d been under the arena lights. “You know,” he murmured, stepping forward at a pace that forced her to back up a fraction, “I still don’t get you.”
Her brow arched. “Don’t get me?”
“Yeah,” he said, head tilting slightly, gaze dragging over the curve of her mouth like he was memorizing it. “How someone like you could love someone like me this much. After… everything. The messes, the screw-ups, the nights I’m more of an asshole than I am a boyfriend.”
Her lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “You think I’m just here for the highlight reel?”
“I think you’re here because you’re out of your damn mind,” he shot back — but there was no bite, just a strange mix of disbelief and raw awe that she could feel in her chest.
She stepped closer, fingers catching the lapels of his hoodie and tugging gently. “I’m here because you’re mine. Good nights, bad nights… win or lose, you’re it for me, Phil.”
Something in him flickered, like she’d just touched a locked part of him no one else had ever gotten near. His hands slid onto her waist, fingers curling over her hips as though anchoring himself.
“Careful,” he warned, voice low, almost gravel. “Talk like that, I’m gonna forget why I was pissed off.”
“Maybe I want you to forget,” she teased, leaning in until her lips brushed his but didn’t close the gap. “Maybe I like you better when you’re only thinking about me.”
A breath of a chuckle escaped him, dark, quiet, before he closed that space, catching her mouth in a kiss that was slow but bruising, the kind that left no question about who she belonged to.
When he pulled back, he stayed close enough for his breath to mingle with hers.
“You know,” he murmured, thumb tracing her jawline, “we’ve been at this for years. No titles. No rules. Just us. But every time I’m with you… it feels like we already own the place.”
She smiled against his lips. “We’re not stopping until we actually do.”
His eyes burned hotter. “And when we do, every single person’s gonna know you made me a king.”
“And you made me your queen,” she said without hesitation.
That snapped the last bit of restraint in him. His grip on her hips tightened, pulling her flush against him. “You have no idea,” he murmured against her ear, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that made her skin prickle, “how many times I’ve thought about you like this. No cameras. No crowd. Just you telling me I’m the only one who gets to put their hands on you.”
Her smirk was a slow burn. “Why tell you… when I can show you?”
His jaw tightened. She could feel it under her lips as she kissed along his jawline, lingering just under his ear. He swore softly, catching her mouth again, the kiss rougher this time, the kind that stole every ounce of air from her lungs.
“You love me like I’ve never been loved before,” he muttered against her lips, his hand sliding under the hem of her shirt to splay against warm skin.
“Good,” she whispered, eyes locked on his. “Because no one else is getting the chance.”
That was the breaking point. His hands roamed higher, slow but certain, his mouth finding the line of her throat while she leaned back just enough to let him. The world outside their room didn’t exist anymore. Every touch, every breath, was him claiming her all over again, and her letting him.
Phil pressed her back until she felt the wall behind her, his mouth slanting harder over hers, his tongue teasing at the seam of her lips until she opened for him. She tasted faintly of the powdered pastry she snaked from catering earlier, but underneath was just her. The taste he knew better than his own damn name.
When his hands slid down, gripping her hips and pulling her flush against him, she gasped against his mouth. He didn’t let her pull away; he chased that sound like it was the only thing keeping him breathing.
“You drive me insane,” he murmured against her lips, each word brushing hot over her skin. “And I swear you fucking love it.”
“I do,” she whispered back, her smirk barely there before he kissed it away.
His hands roamed — over her waist, up her spine, back down to the curve of her thighs. He lifted her without breaking the kiss, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The wall supported her, but it was him that held her there, solid and unshakable.
They were both breathing harder now, heat curling in the space between them. His mouth trailed from her lips to the line of her jaw, then lower, nipping lightly at the sensitive spot beneath her ear. She bit back a moan, but he caught it anyway, smiling against her skin.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice rough. “That’s mine.”
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Damn right,” he said, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “You’ve been mine since the day you walked into my life. And nothing — nothing — is ever gonna change that.”
The way he said it made her chest ache in that dangerous, beautiful way. And when he kissed her again, slower this time, there was no mistaking it, he wasn’t just claiming her body, he was laying his whole heart out in the open.
Y/N laces her hands through his hair, the unmistakable feeling of his erection grinding directly against her core. She gently massages the back of his head, a small moan escaping his lips. She swallows it with a need one could only consider primal.
She reluctantly pulls her lips from his, Phil opening his mouth to protest but is cut off as she maneuvers her way across his jaw and down his neck. Each kiss she leaves sends a round of chills down his spine. His chest rises and falls rapidly as his girlfriend skillfully traces shapes with her tongue along his perfectly salty skin. He gasps when she bites the connecting point between his neck and collarbone before marking him as hers.
“Makeups gonna have fun with that tomorrow,” he murmurs, not able to stop the way his hips continue grinding into her.
She hums before looking up at him and sucking another mark on the opposite side in the exact same spot. “Good… let it serve as a reminder.”
Without much warning, she unwraps her legs from his waist. Phil can’t bring himself to do anything besides watch his girl as she drops down to her knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact. Her fingers trail up to the waistband of his pants before dipping below, just barely, but it’s enough to make his dick twitch behind the fabric. She licks her lips, tugging at the clothing.
“I know this weekend was hard for you,” she says, barely above a whisper. “But if you let me… I wanna take care of you. Make you forget all about the sting of what happened. Show you that you’re the real champion. And that everyone else is just existing on borrowed time.”
Seeing the way she’s so willing to do whatever it takes to stroke his ego, makes his cock grow even harder. Y/N licks her lips at the wet spot forming at the crotch of his pants. She doesn’t wait for permission, the needy look in his eyes communicates it enough for her. She hooks her fingers through the waistband of both his pants and his underwear, sliding them down his legs with ease. Punk helps her out, stepping out of the leg holes before discarding them to some random corner of the room.
He tilts his head with a smug smirk as he watches his girlfriend salivate over his dick. The tip oozing with precum, bright red and ready for whatever she wants to do with it. Her lashes flutter as she looks up at him, leaning forward ever so slightly. Her tongue pokes out of her barely parted lips as she kitten licks his aching tip.
“Fuck…” he exhales shakily, the minimal contact still feeling like everything he could ever want.
Y/N smirks before trailing her tongue from the base to his tip, taking her sweet time, relishing in the way his toned stomach clenches from the sensation. He tilts his head, hand lacing through her hair as she leans forward and takes the whole length of him in her mouth. He tries not to yank her hair from the sudden wave of pleasure, but Y/N pulls back off of him briefly.
“Don’t be gentle,” she commands. “I can take it.”
Phil raises an eyebrow, “Sweetheart, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I can take it,” she reiterates. “Use me. I know you’re still angry.” She grips the base of his cock with her hands, pumping slowly as she leans forward to suck on the part of his dick not covered by her hands. She bobs up and down, speaking when she can. “Take it out on me.”
Phil stares at the beautiful woman below him, moaning softly as she takes his entire length, drool pooling at the corner of her lips. Her bright eyes are begging him, pleading with him to lose control. His grip on her hair tightens, “If I do this… there’s no turning back,” he warns, voice dropping an octave. “No begging me to stop–”
“Fine,” Y/N nods, pulling off of him with an obscenely pornographic pop. “Deal. No begging. I can do it.” She nods, never more determined to do anything. “Just wanna make you feel good.”
She surges forward once again, his tip hitting the back of her throat. Phil’s eyes roll into the back of his head as she manages to take him deeper, forcing herself to gag on his length. “Jesus,” he praises. There’s nothing hotter to him than his woman forcing herself to gag on his cock. Not because she’s forced to, but because she wants to.
He wastes no time after that. He fully grips her hair in his hand, holding her head in place as he pounds into her mouth at a relentless pace. She uses her tongue, working it around him like a professional. Like she was made to suck his dick. All of the anger he felt, the frustration that’s been building up is all coming to a head, and she’s taking it like a champ.
He feels himself twitch in her mouth as he sees a small bulge at the bottom of her throat. Her eyes are watering, mascara leaking down her cheeks, but she’s never looked so damn satisfied. She likes this. Her nails are digging into his thigh as she silently begs for more.
He pulls her head backwards, “Get up,” he commands.
The gravelly tone of his voice shoots a jolt of arousal straight to her core. She stares at him, never breaking eye contact as she maneuvers to her feet. That’s one thing she’s always killed him with, the way she can always keep her focus solely on him. He smashes his lips to hers, bruising and a lot less controlled. She wants him to let go, to use her, that’s what she’s going to get.
Y/N moans into his mouth, his tongue sliding past her lips and intertwining with hers. He can taste his own residue on her mouth and it makes him all the more impatient. He swats her ass, telling her to jump. She does as she’s told, only removing her lips from his so he could see where he was going. She continues kissing down his neck, leaving another mark or two in her wake. There was no getting around this tomorrow night for Raw. Everyone is going to know. And truthfully, he doesn’t care.
He tosses her on the bed, Y/N wasting no time as she scoots her way up to the pillows, her smile the most tantalizing thing he’s ever seen. He hadn’t even realized she’d been fully clothed the entire time. He can still see the way her gear pokes out from underneath her sweatpants and tank top. The image of the gold and black fabric clinging to her skin making him more turned on than before.
“Strip. And do it slowly.”
Y/N just grins all innocently as she reaches for her top first. The way she looks at him, all cute and soft, acting as if she isn’t the filthiest woman he’s ever met. She does as he asks, slowly pulling the top of her head to reveal that same gear piece he’d been thinking about all night. She loops her hands behind her, untying the back which allows the entire thing to fall off her body. His attention is suddenly only focused on the perked nipples staring directly at him. His tongue darts across his lips, and before she can even start at her sweatpants and bottoms, he’s lunging forward.
Y/N moans, hands shooting up to his hair as Phil sucks her right nipple into his mouth. The sensitive peak causes another wave of arousal to crash over her. She knows she’s soaked through her gear and most likely her pants. There’s no way the cloth has been able to hide how hot and bothered she gets by this man.
Her head flies back as he sucks a mark into her breast before moving over to the next and repeating the same process. She enjoys the way his teeth graze the flesh. She gently massages his head like she always does, hands running through his hair. It only spurs him on more as he starts grinding his still thick erection against her thigh.
“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” He mumbles against her skin, kissing down her stomach until he reaches her sweats. He slides them off, leaving her just in her gear bottoms. “Going out there and getting involved in Lynch’s match. All for me.”
Y/N nods, “All for you,” she agrees. “Wanted everyone to know I did it for you.”
Punk laughs, dark and almost evil. He moves a hand up, cupping her pussy with his hand. He can feel the heat radiating off her, the way she’s dripping and begging to be fucked. “You’ve always been a cock slut, haven’t you? I knew you were wet before, but after you get my cock in your mouth, you turn into a fucking drinking fountain.”
Y/N moans at the words. Some nights she adores it when they make love, but other days, she really does need it rough. And quite frankly, so does he. He slowly pulls her bottoms off, loving the way her pussy clenched around nothing when it’s exposed to the air. Once he gets them fully off, he lifts the fabric up to his face, shoving his nose into the wet spot where she had been dripping for God knows how long.
“So fucking sweet,” he mumbles. He glances at her, watching as she tries her hardest not to move without his permission. She’s always been such a good girl. He grins, looking directly into her eyes as he sticks his tongue out, licking the remnants of her juices off the bottoms.
Y/N moans at the sight, growing more and more needy. He doesn’t make it any better when he groans lowly, closing his eyes as he relishes in her taste. She doesn’t have to say anything though as he’s suddenly crouching down, grabbing her thighs forcefully. “That was good, but I think I want it directly from the source.”
Without warning, he shoves her legs further apart, diving face first into her aching heat. Y/N arches her back without prompting, careful not to close her legs. She’s learned the hard way not to move unless he tells her to. His tongue probes in and out of her perfectly, he knows her body better than she does. She whines as his finger finds that rosy bud that makes her see stars. “That’s right whore,” he chuckles against her core. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”
He was relentless with his ministrations. Y/N couldn’t keep quiet even if she wanted to. She knows their neighbors can hear exactly what they’re doing, but the thought of people hearing how good Punk is with his mouth turns her on even more. “Shit,” she says in a breathy whisper. “Feels so fucking good.”
Her pleasure only intensifies as he buries a finger inside her pulsing core. His tongue moves up to her clit as he starts pounding into her with his finger. He wastes no time before shoving a second and then third finger inside of her. He lifts his head, beard drenched in her juices. Seeing her this fucked out just from his tongue and fingers is enough to make him cum on its own. “You’re such a good girl. Goin’ out there and getting even for me,” he praises her. “And now you’re letting me use you how I please. How did I get so lucky?”
Y/N’s always been a sucker for his praise. Phil simply groans into her core when he feels more of her arousal gush around his fingers. He knows her inside and out. She’s never been able to resist how he talks to her. She always said her favorite thing about him is his mouth.
“I’m the lucky one,” she finally manages to gasp out as he starts pistoning his fingers in and out of her. “So lucky.” The next sound that comes out of her is a mix between a scream and a moan. “Fuck! I love you.”
Phil licks one more stripe up her pussy, pulling his fingers out as he crawls up to her. He smashes his lips to hers, Y/N moaning as her own arousal spills into the mouth. She loves the burn his beard leaves on her face. “I love you too,” he mumbles against her lips.
Y/N loses all sense of the world around her as he slides his dick inside of her. Phil curses lowly, enjoying the way she encases him perfectly. “You’re so tight f’me,” he whispers against her jaw. “Fitting me like a fucking glove, princess.”
She can feel every part of him splitting her open. He’s buried to the hilt inside of her and she knows what she’s in for. She feels him slowly pull out, both of them watching his dick slide out of her, coated in her slick. Both of them are entranced by the sight until suddenly he’s shoving himself back inside with no remorse.
Y/N gasps but it’s cut off by Phil’s hand curling around her throat. It’s not enough to hurt her, but it’s enough to make her feel lightheaded, amplifying the pleasure she’s getting from the man above her. “Stupid fucking Rollins,” he growls. “Thinkin’ he can take my championship.” He leans down, sucking a ready nipple into his mouth, biting down slightly. “He has no idea what’s coming to him, does he? Has no idea how crazy my girl is. How far she’s willing to go to get me what I want.”
Y/N tries to nod her head, eyes hazy. Phil just smirks at the blissed out look on her face as he plows into her. His pelvis practically meets hers with how deep he’s going. She knows she’s going to bruise, and part of her wants them to be the deepest and most colored bruises she’s ever had. She wants people to see how he owns her.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” Y/N mewls, voice raspy from the way he’s still constricting her airways. “I’ll burn it all down for you.”
Punk chuckles, leaning down to kiss her once more. “That’s my girl…”
He pummels her pussy, finally removing his hand from her throat so he can place it on her lower stomach, amplifying the pressure his cock is providing her. Y/N’s mouth falls open in a silent scream. Her hands shoot up towards his back, her nails raking perfect lines down his skin. Punk groans, loving the way it feels.
“God, I’m obsessed with you,” he grumbles, each thrust hitting her cervix harder. He nuzzles his nose into her neck, breathing in the aroma that’s so specifically her. He kisses the sensitive spot behind her ear, a rush of chills forming on her skin. “You don’t even realize what you do to me. What runs through my mind when I see you walking backstage in the skimpy shit you call gear.” Y/N cries out as he hits that spongy spot inside of her over and over again without stopping. “My perfect slut.”
Y/N rolls her hips back into him, moaning into the now humid air. She pulls him closer to her, his chest now pressing against hers as he continues thrusting into her. “You like that?” He asks mockingly. “You like knowing how fucking crazy you drive me?” He sucks another mark on her neck this time, the fingerprints from how he was choking her still present. “And that sometimes I just can’t help myself. I’ll go back and watch some of your old matches just to jerk off at how fucking sexy you look.”
And just like that, the coil inside her snapped. Her entire body shudders, pussy clamping around his cock as if it was trying to suck all the life out of it. However, he didn’t lighten up. She said he could use her how he pleased, and he planned on it.
Punk curses, pounding into her faster now. The overstimulation makes tears brim at the corner of her eyes, but she knows better than to beg him to stop. She wanted this and he needs it. He reaches up, groping her breast roughly as his thrusts become sloppy.
“I’m gonna cum inside this pussy,” he pants, sweat forming at his brow. Y/N arches her back, nodding frantically. “That’s what you want, huh? Want my seed so fucking deep that everyone will know who you come to bat for?”
Y/N gasps, silently affirming everything he’s saying. She can feel her second orgasm building as he pounds into her a few more times. It only takes one more look at her completely undone form for him to explode inside of her. He yells out a string of curses before leaning down to kiss her bruisingly, hips stuttering. He barely pulls away, glancing down at where their bodies are joined, his cock covered in cum, glistening in the light like the most holy thing he’s ever seen. She winces slightly as he starts pulling out, but part of him can’t resist. He slowly brings his hand up, fingering her clit that’s still pulsing between her folds.
Y/N flinches, another wanton moan escaping her lips. Her pussy lips are puffy and perfectly coated in the cum that’s slowly dripping out of her. He doesn’t let much escape though before shoving his finger back inside of her, not letting a single ounce of his spunk go to waste.
Y/N pretty much falls limp, her body sinking further into the mattress beneath her. Her chest rises and falls with every bated breath. She’s been in a lot of taxing matches before, but none of them have taken her out more than this.
The room’s still thick with heat, the sheets a mess of tangled fabric and flushed skin. Punk’s breath fans against her neck as he slowly pushes himself up, bracing his forearm against the mattress while the other stays lazily draped over her stomach.
"Jesus," he murmurs, still catching his breath, his voice rough but threaded with amusement. "You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know that?"
Y/N smirks, eyes still half-lidded. "You’ve been saying that for years. Still kicking though."
Punk chuckles low in his chest, brushing damp hair from her forehead before pressing a kiss there. "Barely."
He sits back, taking a long look at her like he’s trying to burn the image into his brain. She doesn’t flinch from it, she’s long past shying away from the way he watches her.
"Y’know… you might think you’re slick, getting off on my ring gear," she teases softly, fingers dragging down his arm. "But I always knew. I just liked it too much to call you out."
That earns her a lopsided grin. "Should’ve known you’d turn my creepy into romantic."
"You make it too easy." She leans up, brushing her lips across his jaw before pulling back. "Now help me up before I actually melt into the mattress."
He rolls his eyes but slips an arm under her legs and one behind her back, lifting her with an ease that makes her roll hers right back. "Show-off."
"Shut up and let me take care of you."
In the bathroom, steam curls up from the tub he’s already started filling. He lowers her in slowly, like he’s afraid she might bruise if he moves too fast. The water laps against her skin, and before she can tease him again, he steps in behind her, settling so her back rests against his chest.
"Comfy?" he murmurs against her ear.
"Mhm. Could get used to this."
"You should," he says, like it’s a promise.
For a while, they just sit in the quiet, the only sounds the water shifting when he drags his hands lazily along her arms. "So," he starts, breaking the stillness, "about the whole Becky thing. Interviews, fan questions… what’s the game plan?"
She tilts her head back enough to meet his eyes. "Easy. I tell them I did it because it was fun, and because messing with people is one of my hobbies."
Punk snorts. "Cute. But you know they’re gonna try to spin it into some big dramatic storyline about me not being able to fight my own battles."
"Let ’em," she says, without missing a beat. "You don’t need to prove anything to them. And for the record? I’d do it all over again. Ten times. Just to watch their faces when I walked out there."
Something shifts in his expression then, softer, almost reverent. He kisses her temple, lingering a little longer than necessary.
"I love you… more than anything," he murmurs.
Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushing from how soft he sounds saying it. “I love you too.” Her fingers find his under the water, tangling together. "I hope you know you’re stuck with me forever, Punker. No matter what.”
He doesn’t say it, but the thought hits him like a freight train. Yeah… Forever sounds about right.
✧･ﾟ:*ᴵ’ᵐ ᵇᵉᵃᵘ ᵗᶦᶠᵘˡ (ꈍ ꒳ ꈍ✿)*:･ﾟ✧*
The crowd was still a roar in her bones when she stepped through the curtain. Signs with her name and Punk’s blurred together in a neon sea, some praising her, others cursing her, but all of them loud. Y/N didn’t rush. She let the reaction breathe, soaking in the split of cheers and boos like they were oxygen.
Her and Paul agreed for her to cut a promo about why she did what she did. It was a perfect way to set up a feud and explain storyline wise why she did what she did. While it was more personal than it was for work, they had to find a good way to intertwine the two.
She slid under the bottom rope, straightened to her full height, and leaned against the ropes with the mic in hand. The noise swelled again.
"Y’know…" She took a deep breath, letting her gaze drift over the arena. "I’ve never liked liars. Not in my personal life, not in this ring, not anywhere. And lucky me, I work in a place where the biggest liar of them all holds the World Heavyweight Championship."
A fresh wave of boos rained down at the not-so-subtle shot.
"Seth Rollins," she said, pacing the ring now. "A man who spent months… no, years… talking about hard work, about earning your spot, about fighting with honor. A man who loves to preach about being the standard in WWE."
She stopped dead center, smirking without humor. "And yet, the second CM Punk claws his way back to the top after ten damn years… the second he earns his shot fair and square… Rollins throws every word he’s ever said into the trash because he’s too bitter, too jealous, to let someone else shine."
The crowd roared again — some agreeing, some trying to drown her out. "Punk deserved that title more than anyone in this company," she continued, her voice sharpening. "And Seth couldn’t take it. Couldn’t handle that maybe, just maybe, someone was better than him. So he cheated. He played dirty. He took something he didn’t deserve."
She paused, adjusting her grip on the mic. "And when someone like Seth wants to fight dirty? Well… I can do that too. I didn’t get revenge. I got even. And you can cry about it on Twitter, you can chant about it in this arena, but the fact is—"
Cult of Personality hit like a thunderclap. The crowd exploded.
Her head snapped toward the stage, expecting Becky, maybe Seth — definitely not him. Punk stepped out in his classic tee and jeans, hair damp, smirk carved across his face like he’d just won the lottery.
"What the hell…" she muttered under her breath as he started down the ramp, slapping a few outstretched hands along the way.
When he slid into the ring, she leaned toward him, mic lowered. "What are you doing out here?"
He just grinned wider, like he was in on a joke she hadn’t heard yet. Punk took the other mic from the timekeeper and turned to face the crowd. "I wasn’t gonna come out here. Figured this was your moment to talk your talk. But, uh…" He glanced at her, eyes glinting. "Turns out I’ve got a couple things to get off my chest."
The arena quieted just enough for him to start pacing. "First of all… yeah, I lost. Seth Rollins beat me. You can call it skill, you can call it strategy, you can call it whatever helps you sleep at night. But here’s the thing — I don’t stay down. I’m not done. I’m getting that title back, and when I do, there’s not a damn thing Seth can do about it."
The crowd popped. He pointed toward Y/N. "And I’ve got her to thank for reminding me what kind of fight I’m capable of. ’Cause she didn’t just watch from the sidelines. She didn’t let someone she loves get screwed over and shrug it off. She went out there and made sure they knew there are consequences for screwing with us."
Y/N smirked a little at that, but before she could respond, Punk’s voice shifted. Lower. More deliberate. "But there’s something else," he said, stepping closer until they were just a foot apart. "Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. Because the truth is… I’ve had a lot of fights in my life. In this ring. Outside of it. But the best fight I’ve ever been in was keeping you."
Her chest tightened. This was not where she thought this was going.
"I’m not an easy guy to love," Punk went on, eyes locked on hers. "Hell, I’ve spent most of my life convinced I didn’t even deserve it. But you… for some reason I’ll never understand, you’ve been here. Through every high, every low, every self-inflicted mess I’ve made. And not only did you stay… you made me better."
The arena was pin-drop silent now, thousands of people watching a private moment unfold under the brightest lights. "You make me want to be the guy you already think I am," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. "And you make me feel like maybe… just maybe… I’ve got more to fight for than titles or glory or proving people wrong. Maybe the whole point was just… finding you."
Her eyes burned, and she shook her head slightly, trying to blink it away. And then Punk reached into his pocket, and the crowd lost it.
Y/N’s hand flew to her mouth as he dropped to one knee, mic still in hand, holding out a ring box. "I could’ve done this last night, or in a hotel room, or somewhere quiet where it was just us," he said over the deafening noise. "But I want this on record. I want this on tape so we can play it back when we’re old and cranky and yelling at kids to get off our lawn. I want every single person here to see what you mean to me."
He flipped open the box. "Y/N… will you marry me?"
The pop from the crowd was deafening. She was laughing through the tears now, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it. But she was nodding before she even realized it. "Yeah," she breathed. "Of course I will."
Punk stood, sliding the ring onto her finger, and they kissed dead center in the ring while the place absolutely erupted.
When they finally broke apart, she grinned at him through glassy eyes. "You are such a sap."
"Yeah, but I’m your sap," he shot back without missing a beat. "And now everybody knows it."
cmpunk
liked by y/nwrestles, americannightmarecody, roxanne_wwe, and 150,456 others
tagged: y/nwrestles
cmpunk: She said yes 💍
View all 10,125 comments
y/nwrestles: about damn time, old man. 08.04.25 ❤️
619iamlucha: Congrats, you two! Couldn’t be happier for you both 🙏
charlottewwe: Finally!!! Love this so much. You’re perfect for each other 💕
uceyjucey: Happy for you, Uce. Lock it down. 🔐
biancabelairwwe: This is the CUTEST 😭 so happy for y’all!!
tripleh: Congratulations! Now let’s get this wedding booked before your next match. 😉
mikethemiz: Congrats! Can’t wait for the bachelor party. 🍻
roxanne_wwe: my parents are finally getting married 😭😭😭
rhearipley_wwe: This is actually adorable. Congrats.
wrestlingfangirl93: this is literally my roman empire 😭😭😭
cmpunkspromos: NO WAY?? THE POWER COUPLE IS ENGAGED 😭🔥
wrestleobsessed: I’m crying in the club rn.
straightedgearmy: Congrats to my fav wrestler and the only person cooler than him 😎
lariatlover88: the way he looks at her >>>
heartbroken_hogan: Damn, was really hoping I’d be the one marrying Y/N. Guess I’m screwed 😞💔
cmpunk: Damnnnnn, nice try though. She’s. mine, but keep practicing.
wrestlingwithmyfeelings: CM PUNK… SOFT?? never thought I’d see the day
steelcagequeen: I’d let y/n suplex me any day but she’s taken now 💔 congrats tho
crowdpopmaster: this better be the wedding of the decade
pairing — jey uso x fem!reader
word count — 5.7k
summary — you try to calm down after having a wet dream, but you just can't help yourself... jey is right beside you and you know he can be the solution to all your problems.
warnings — soft dom!jey, sub!reader, wet dreams, degradation, unprotected sex, tooth rotting sweetness, marking
note — this is actually the very first concept i had when i started fanfiction, but it never seemed to come together. i decided to come revisit the idea and i'm so glad i did. enjoy :)
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You moaned, loud and broken, legs locked tight around his waist as he fucked you deep and mean. His mouth was right at your ear, voice low and cruel. Hot breath against the shell of it.
“Listen to that sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”
He was growling. Hips snapping hard enough to make the bed creak underneath you.
“You creamin’ all over my dick. You really needed this, huh? Just spread them legs and took it.”
You moaned louder, nails digging into his back as your walls clenched around him. He just felt so thick. So hot. Stretching you open with every rough stroke.
Every thrust making a loud, rhythmic plap. The heavy, fleshy collision of his hips meeting yours. The slick friction echoing sharp and constant in the room.
It was all so much— your thighs shook beneath him, arousal coating his length and dripping steadily down to soak the sheets. Every time he bottomed out, you could feel it deep in your stomach.
“Jey— fuck!”
“Yeah, that’s right,” he rasped, teeth scraping your ear hard enough to sting. “You better say my name. Ain’t nobody else fuckin’ your shit up this good.”
His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, chest slick with sweat. Sliding heavy against yours. You could feel every inch of him. The thick stretch, him grinding on your clit when he rolled his hips, the heat pouring off his skin like a furnace. Your pussy was fluttering and clenching helplessly around him.
You were so wet. Embarrassingly wet. The lewd squelch of it was louder than your own moans.
He shifted, hooking one of your legs higher up over his shoulder, so he could fuck you deeper. The new angle made you cry out. His voice dropped even lower, right against your ear, mean and filthy and relentless.
“Look at you— can’t even talk. Taking this dick so good you ain’t thinkin’… Mhm, all you know how to do is let me use you.”
You were burning up. Skin sticky with sweat. The heat between your bodies was almost unbearable. His perfect cock was dragging against your walls with every thrust, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.
You were so close. So fucking close. Thighs shaking, pussy clenching tighter and tighter around him as you felt that hot pressure build low in your belly.
“J-Jey, please—”
He laughed low and dark against your ear, his hips snapping harder.
“Yeah? You gon’ cum for me like a good little whore? Do it.”
Everything tightened. The heat, the stretch, the drag of his cock, his voice growling filth right into your ear— until it snapped.
Your eyes flew open with a sharp, desperate gasp.
The bedroom was dark and quiet. The only light was a thin sliver from the cracked bathroom door. For one disorienting second you had no idea where you were.
The dream was still clinging to you, thick and heavy and far too real. Your heart was hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to punch its way out of your chest. Your skin was on fire, actual fire. A deep, feverish heat radiating from the inside out.
Sweat had already cooled on your chest and the back of your neck, leaving your thin tank top plastered to you like a second, sticky layer. The sheets were twisted around your legs, clinging in damp patches to the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.
You rolled onto your side, breathing fast and shallow, trying to calm down. But your body clearly hadn’t gotten the memo.
Between your thighs, you were soaked. Truly, embarrassingly soaked. Your panties were drenched, the fabric cold and tacky where it sat clinging to your swollen folds. Your clit was throbbing so hard it almost hurt. Each pulse sending sharp little shocks of need straight up your spine.
Your pussy felt empty and aching. A deep, gnawing itch you just couldn’t scratch, clenching uselessly around nothing. That imaginary stretch and fullness from the dream was still there, echoing between your legs like a cruel joke.
You could still feel the heavy drag of his cock, the way it split you open, the way it bottomed out so deep you could feel it in your stomach.
But there was nothing now.
No weight pinning you down. No hot breath in your ear growling filthy things. No thick stretch and pulse of him buried inside you.
Just sweat, the tacky cling of your skin, and the humiliating wetness soaking through your panties and leaking onto the sheets beneath you.
Oh my god.
The thought hit you like a slap. Your face burned hotter than the rest of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, mortified, thighs pressing together so tight that it only made the ache worse.
You could still hear his cruel voice telling you how sloppy you were, how greedy, how pathetic you were for needing him that bad.
That wasn’t him.
That wasn’t your Jey.
Your Jey was soft and patient and gentle. Even when he was in control. He didn’t talk to you like that. He never has.
And yet… some traitorous part of you had liked it. Liked the edge in his voice. Liked the way he used you. Liked feeling small and filthy and completely owned.
You pressed your face into the pillow. A tiny, frustrated whimper slipping out before you can stop it.
You turned your head just enough to look at him in the low light, and the sight of him made your chest tighten.
Jey was sprawled on his stomach, limbs thrown out everywhere, taking up more than half the bed like he always did. One arm was stretched toward you, the other bent awkwardly under the pillow. His long legs tangled in the sheets, one knee hiked up, the other kicked out toward the edge.
His cheek was smashed against the pillow, face turned completely to the side, lips parted just a little. A thin string of drool shone at the corner of his mouth, slowly stretching toward the fabric. His curls were a wild mess across his forehead and the pillow, and his chain had slipped slightly so the metal rested against the pillowcase instead of his collarbone.
He looked… messy. Human. A little ridiculous.
And he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.
Your throat tightened.
How could I dream him like that?
Mean and cruel and using you like you were nothing.
This was your Jey. Soft and open and safe. Drooling on the pillow like a big kid, limbs everywhere. Breathing slow and steady like the world could end and he wouldn’t even notice.
This is the man you loved. The one who held you like you were his favorite thing in the whole world world. The one who never said a harsh word to you unless it was wrapped in so much love you couldn’t breathe.
You squeezed your eyes shut tighter, shame and affection crashing together so hard it almost hurt.
God, I love him. I love him exactly like this.
The thought twisted sharp and guilty in your stomach. How could your own mind twist him into something so mean? How could you want that version of him even for a second?
But you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t even try to deny it.
Your skin was burning up from the inside out. Sweat beaded along your hairline again, trickling down your temple. Your thin tank top was now cold and damp against your breasts, sticking to your back.
Every shift of your hips made the ache worse. Every breath made the emptiness throb harder. It felt like a fire you couldn’t put out. The only thing that would make it stop was him— his hands, his mouth, his cock. Anything to fill the burning void.
You tried to ignore it. You really did.
You rolled onto your other side, pressing your thighs together as tight as you could, hoping the need would fade.
You could handle this. You could just breathe through it and go back to sleep.
He was sleeping so peacefully. He was a heavy sleeper. He deserved the rest. You didn’t want to wake him up just because your stupid brain had conjured some filthy version of him and left you wrecked and dripping like this.
But the ache only got worse.
It pulsed deeper. Hotter. More insistent. Your pussy clenched again, another rush of wetness soaking your panties until the fabric was completely useless. The burning was too deep. The emptiness hurt.
You bit down on your lip until it stung, trying to stay quiet, trying to be good, trying not to disturb him. You tried breathing slow through your nose, counting to ten, then twenty, then thirty.
You told yourself it would pass. You told yourself you didn’t need to bother him. You told yourself you were being ridiculous— it was just a dream, just your own twisted imagination, and you could handle it like a fucking adult.
But your body refused to listen.
The burning only spread, crawling under your skin, making your nipples harden against your thin top and your thighs quiver with the effort of keeping still. Another helpless roll of your hips made fresh slick leak out of you, soaking the sheets beneath your ass in a warm, humiliating patch.
The need was too strong.
You needed him inside you. You needed him to stretch you open and fill you up and make the fire stop.
You couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Your hand reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing his shoulder. His skin was warm, solid, so familiar it made your chest ache even more.
“Jey…” you whispered, voice small and shaky, barely above a breath. “Baby…?”
He didn’t wake up right away. Of course he didn’t.
Instead he made a low, grumpy little grunt in the back of his throat, the sound coming out muffled against the pillow. His face scrunched up for a second, brows pulling together like the sound of your voice was annoying him in his sleep.
One of his long arms flopped heavily across your waist, pulling you closer on instinct, but he still didn’t open his eyes. His breathing stayed deep and even, lips parted, drool still shining at the corner of his mouth.
You felt another wave of guilt crash over you. He looked so peaceful, so soft, so completely unaware. And here you were, burning up and dripping because your brain had decided to turn him into some filthy, mean version of himself in a dream.
But no matter how much that deep, dark part of your brain might want him to be just that— he wasn’t. This was a big, sleepy, ridiculous man you were talking about. One who took up half the bed and drooled on the pillow like a giant toddler.
How could you wake him up just because you were aching like this?
But the throb between your legs only got stronger. Your pussy clenched again. Another rush of wetness soaking through your panties until you could feel it starting to drip down the inside of your thighs.
You swallowed hard, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and tried again, voice even smaller this time.
“Jey… baby, I’m sorry. I just— I don’t feel good.”
He made another sleepy grunt, this one deeper, almost a groan. His arm tightened around your waist for a second, pulling you closer, but his eyes stayed closed.
You bit your lip, mortified, but the ache wouldn’t let you stop. Your hand shook as you reached up and gently brushed your fingers through his curls, trying to wake him without being too pushy.
“Jey… please,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I really need you right now.”
He finally stirred a little more. A long, dramatic groan rumbled out of him as he shifted, face scrunching up like the idea of waking up was personally offensive.
One eye cracked open just a hair, hazy and unfocused, then the other. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of you in the dark, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.
“…Baby?” he mumbled, sounding half-confused, half-concerned. “Wha’s wrong? You okay?”
You felt your face burn even hotter. You couldn’t just say it. Not outright. Not when he looked like this. Soft and sleepy and so completely your Jey.
“I… I had a dream,” you whispered, the words coming out shaky and embarrassed. “And I just— I woke up and I’m— I’m really hot. And I feel… I don’t know. I just, I need you. Please.”
He blinked again, slower this time, still trying to wake up fully. His brow furrowed as he studied your face, the flush on your cheeks, the way you were pressing your thighs together like you were trying to hold yourself together.
His hand slid up your side, warm and careful, palm resting on your stomach like he was trying to figure out what was going on.
“You burnin’ up,” he murmured, voice still rough and sleepy, but the concern was already there, soft and genuine. “Like, actually hot. You feelin’ sick, baby?”
You shook your head fast, ashamed, the words sticking in your throat. You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t look him in the eye and tell him you woke up from a dream where he was so mean and using you and that it left you dripping and aching so bad you couldn’t even sleep.
“I’m not sick,” you whispered, voice barely there. “I just… I need you. I need you to, to fix it. Please, Jey.”
He was quiet for a second, still half-asleep, but you saw the exact moment it clicked. His eyes widened just a fraction, the sleepy haze clearing as understanding settled in.
His hand stilled on your stomach, thumb rubbing one slow, soothing circle like he was trying to calm you down even though he was the one still waking up.
“Oh,” he said softly, voice dropping low but warm, nothing cruel in it at all. “A dream, huh?”
You nodded, face flaming hot. You couldn’t say anything else. How could you possibly explain that you’d dreamed about him degrading you and using you like a toy, when the real him was lying here looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world?
He smiled then— small, sweet, and so completely him. The corner of his mouth lifting in that lazy, boyish way that always made your chest feel too full. No smirk. No edge. Just soft affection and a hint of sleepy concern.
He shifted closer without hesitation, wrapping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, pulling you flush against his chest so your face tucked into the warm curve of his neck.
“I got you, baby,” he whispered against your temple, pressing a gentle kiss there, then another to your hairline, then one more to the tip of your nose like he couldn’t help himself.
His voice was still rough from sleep, but it wrapped around you like a blanket. “I got you,” he repeated. “Let me take care of my girl.”
You melted into him instantly, the guilt and shame and desperate need all tangling together as his big, warm hand rubbed slow circles up and down your back.
He smelled like sleep and his cologne and home, and you felt so safe it almost hurt. This was your Jey. Not the dream version. Not the cruel one. Just this— soft and patient and so ready to give you whatever you needed, no questions asked.
He kissed your temple again, slow and lingering, then gently rolled you onto your back so you were lying beneath him. The sheets were pulled back just enough for him to see you clearly in the low light. He hovered over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other resting warm and steady on your waist.
Jey looked at you like he had all the time in the world.
His eyes moved over your face, down the flushed column of your throat, across the way your thin tank top clung to your breasts, damp with sweat. His thumb brushed slow circles over your hip bone, and when his gaze finally came back to yours, it was so soft it made your chest ache.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice still gravely but full of nothing but warmth. “Look at you… all pink and pretty for me. My girl.”
You made a soft, shaky sound, half-embarrassed, half-melting, and he smiled. He leaned down and started kissing you again, slow and gentle, starting at your temple and working his way lower. His mouth brushed your cheek, the corner of your jaw, then trailed down the side of your neck in a warm, unhurried path.
He pressed open-mouthed kisses there, soft at first, then a little firmer, sucking lightly until a small, dark mark bloomed under his lips. You let out a quiet, sweet little whimper, tilting your head to give him more room.
He nipped gently at the same spot, just enough to make you gasp, then immediately soothed it with a slow, warm stripe of his tongue, licking over the fresh mark. You could feel him smiling against your neck, the curve of his lips warm and happy.
He did it again. Another soft nip. Another slow lick. Another little love bite that he kissed and licked until it felt like he was worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.
“Such a good girl,” he murmured between kisses, voice low and tender. “Lettin’ me take care of you like this… so pretty when you all needy and soft for me.”
You made another soft, sweet sound, fingers threading into his curls as your back arched just a little under his mouth. He was so gentle. So careful. The complete opposite of the dream version you created.
He was slow and loving and so happy to spend all night kissing and marking and taking care of you. It was like nothing in the world mattered more than making you feel good.
Jey smiled again against your neck, pressing one more open-mouthed kiss right below your ear before he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and warm and full of that quiet adoration.
“Tell me what you need, baby,” he whispered, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “I’m right here. I got you.”
His hands slid under the hem of your tank top without waiting for an answer, palms gliding slow and warm up your stomach, fingertips brushing the undersides of your breasts. He paused there, eyes locked on yours, voice soft and patient.
“This what you want?”
You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, desperate little whimpers already slipping out as you leaned into his touch. Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. He just pushed the thin fabric higher, slow and careful, until your tits spilled free. Heavy, flushed, nipples already painfully hard and tight from how worked up you still were.
He let out a low, appreciative hum, eyes locked on your chest like he couldn’t look away.
“Arms up f’me,” he murmured, voice so gentle it made you chest pang.
You lifted them immediately, and he peeled the tank top the rest of the way off, tossing it somewhere off the side of the bed without even looking. The cool air hit your bare skin and you shivered, but Jey was already moving, leaning down and latching his mouth onto one of your nipples.
The wet heat of his tongue was immediate and perfect. He sucked slow and deep, lips sealed tight around the sensitive peak, tongue swirling in lazy circles that made your back arch off the mattress.
A soft, needy sound slipped out of you before you could stop it, your fingers threading back through his curls as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same slow, worshipful treatment.
He hummed against your skin, the vibration traveling straight down between your legs, and you felt him smile again. You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly beneath him. The ache between your thighs was only getting worse with every slow pull of his mouth.
But Jey took his time, switching back and forth between your breasts. He licked warm stripes over your nipples, nipping gently, then soothing each one with his tongue like he wanted to memorize the taste of you.
He lifted his head just enough to look at you, lips shiny, eyes dark and full of nothing but love.
“Still need more, baby?” he asked, voice tender, thumb brushing over one wet nipple. The touch sent sparks straight down between your legs, making your pussy clench hard around nothing. “Tell me. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
You nodded so fast your head spun, cheeks burning, the words catching in your throat. Inside your head it was a desperate frantic chant.
Dick, I need dick, I need your dick right now. Please, please, please make it stop hurting. I need you inside me so bad it hurts.
But all that came out was a shaky, embarrassed whisper.
“I just…I need you,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I need you, Jey. Please. Please make it go away. It hurts…I need you so bad.”
Jey’s eyes softened even more. He didn’t tease you. Didn’t make you say the filthy words your brain was screaming. He just nodded, already knowing exactly what you mean, and scooped you up under your arms with those big, strong hands.
In one smooth motion he flipped you both. He sat up against the headboard and pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him, facing him, your knees on either side of his hips. He held you close, one arm wrapped around your back, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your head.
He pulled you in until your face was tucked against his neck, your chest pressed to his, and he just held you there for a moment. Stroking your hair slow and soothing while he kissed the side of your neck.
“I’m right here, baby. I’m gon’ take care of you,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear.
You whimpered, hips shifting restlessly in his lap, the soaked front of your panties dragging against the hard line of his cock still trapped in his boxers. The friction was maddening. Not enough. Never enough. But it still made your clit throb harder, another rush of slick leaking out of you and soaking your panties even more.
Jey reached down between you without a word, hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, and tugged them down just enough for his cock to spring free. Thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. It slapped warm and solid against your inner thigh, and the feeling of it made your pussy clench hard around nothing. A fresh wave of desperate need rolling through you so sharp it stole your breath.
He didn’t rush.
He slid your soaked panties to the side with two fingers, the cool air hitting your drenched folds for only a second before his fingertips were there instead. He felt how wet you were– how your pussy fluttered and pulsed at the lightest touch– and he let out a soft, soothing hum against your neck like he was proud of you for being such a mess for him.
Then he started rubbing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, gentle but firm. The perfect pressure made your hips jerk forward on instinct. You whined loud and broken against his neck, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your thighs trembled on either side of his lap.
Every slow stroke sent sparks shooting up your spine, but it still wasn’t enough. It only made the emptiness inside you ache worse, made you clench and leak even more, made you feel so empty you could cry.
Please, please, please, your mind chanted, the words too embarrassing to say out loud. I need you inside me. Need your cock. Need you to fill me up right now.
“Jey– please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop it. “Please… it hurts. Please.”
Jey made a soft, soothing sound, still stroking your clit in those circles, his other hand still cradling the back of your head like you were something fragile.
“I know, baby,” he whispered, kissing your neck again, sucking a gentle mark there. “I know it hurts. I’m gon’ fix it. Gon’ give you what you need.”
He lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance, and you felt him smile against your neck again.
“Easy, baby,” he murmured. “I got you.”
Then he pushed inside you– slow, steady, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. The relief was instant and overwhelming.
You cried out, the sound cracking in the quiet room as your walls fluttered and clenched around every thick inch of him. He filled you so perfectly, so completely, pressing against that deep, aching spot that had been throbbing for what felt like forever.
The burning eased, the emptiness vanished. It was replaced by the heavy, delicious fullness that made your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut. You could feel every vein, every ridge, the way he throbbed inside you. Hot and solid and real.
Jey groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your neck as he held you close, arms wrapped tight around your back.
“There you go,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. “You feel that? I’m right here.”
You whimpered, burying your face in ish neck, nails digging into his shoulders as your pussy fluttered around him again. You easily adjusted to the stretch, to the way he filled every empty inch of you.
The ache was still there, but now it felt good. Deep and warm and satisfied instead of painful. You rolled your hips once, experimentally, and then the drag of his cock against your walls made you moan again. It was softer this time, almost relieved.
Jey let out a quiet, happy hum, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head while the other stayed splayed across your lower back, holding you flush against him.
“Doin’ so good,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck again, slow and sweet. “Takin’ me so well. My perfect girl.”
He didn’t move yet. Just stayed buried deep inside you. Letting you feel him. Letting you adjust. Letting you breathe through the overwhelming fullness. His thumb stroked gentle circles on your back. His lips brushed your skin in soft, lazy kisses, and you felt so safe, so full, so completely taken care of that the last bit of embarrassment melted away.
He slid an arm down to cup underneath your ass, big palm spreading wide and warm over the curve of it. He lifted you just enough to shift you higher in his lap, then slowly guided you back down onto his cock, bouncing you in a deep, unhurried rhythm that made your breath catch every time he bottomed out.
Jey didn’t let you do any of the work. He just held you there, strong muscles doing all the lifting. All the guiding. All the moving while you melted against him.
Your forehead pressed to him. Your noses brushed with every slow rise and fall of your body. His lips hovered so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. Every few seconds he’d lean in and give you the softest, barely there kiss. Just a gentle press. A light brush. A sweet little peck that made your chest flutter even as your pussy clenched around him.
“There you go, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, eyes half-lidded as he watched your face. “Just let me take care of you.”
He lifted you again, slow and steady, then eased you back down until every thick inch was buried deep inside you again. The drag was perfect– slow enough to feel every ridge, every vein, every subtle throb of him stretching your walls.
You whimpered softly, the sound swallowed by another one of his gentle kisses, your forehead still resting against his. Noses brushing. Breaths mingling.
You were so full.
So perfectly full.
Every time he guided you down, the ache eased a little more. The burning turned into a deep, warm pleasure that spread through your whole body. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in just a little, but he didn’t mind. He just kept that same slow, controlled rhythm, lifting and lowering you like you weighed nothing. Like he could do this all night if that’s what you needed.
“You feel so good,” he whispered between soft kisses, lips brushing yours, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth again. “So warm and wet and tight ‘round me. My perfect girl.”
You made a soft, broken sound, forehead pressed tighter to his, noses still brushing as he bounced you gently on his cock. The closeness was overwhelming in the best way. His breath on your skin, his eyes so close you could see every fleck of color in them.
He kissed you again, barely there, just a sweet press of lips that made your heart stutter. Then another. And another. Slow and lazy and full of love while his hands kept guiding your hips, filling you over and over.
You were still burning, but now it felt like the fire was being soothed from the inside out, replaced by something warm and safe and so, so good.
He kept the same slow, steady pace for a while longer, pulling you up and down on his cock with those big, strong hands. Forehead pressed to yours. Noses brushing. But the need inside you kept building, the ache turning sharper, hotter, needier.
Your pussy fluttered tighter around him, walls clenching with every deep stroke, and you felt yourself getting closer, the pressure coiling low in your belly.
“Jey…” you whimpered against his mouth, voice shaky. “I’m– I’m getting close…”
He made a soft, encouraging sound, eyes still locked on yours, forehead still touching.
“Go ahead, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.”
He picked up the pace then, bouncing you a little faster, a little harder, the wet sounds of your bodies meeting growing louder in the quiet room. His hands gripped your ass tighter, lifting you higher before pulling you back down onto his cock with more force, the head dragging perfectly against that spot inside you every single time.
You moaned, the sound breaking against his lips as your whole body started to lock up. Jey leaned in and bit your bottom lip gently, just enough to sting, then soothed it with a deep, slow kiss as your orgasm crashed over you.
Your pussy clenched hard around him, pulsing, the pleasure rolling through you in hot, overwhelming waves. You cried out into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs shaking on either side of his lap as you came hard, soaking his cock even more.
Jey groaned softly against your lips, staying buried deep inside you the whole time, holding you close while your body trembled and clenched around him. He kept kissing you through it. Deep, slow, loving kisses, noses still brushing– like he wanted to feel every second of it with you.
When the last aftershocks finally faded, he stayed right where he was, cock still buried deep inside you, arms wrapped tight around you as he held you against his chest.
He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.
“You feel better?” he asked quietly, voice warm and a little raspy. “The burnin’ gone?”
You nodded against his neck, still catching your breath, body limp in his lap. “Yeah… it’s gone. Thank you.”
Jey smiled, the curve of his lips brushing your skin, and he pulled you even closer.
“Good,” he murmured, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder. “Think I’ll just keep you here a little bit longer. If that’s okay with you.”
You let out a soft, content little sound, nuzzling into his neck, arms wrapped around him as you settled against his chest.
“Yeah,” you whispered, voice sleepy, eyes already drifting shut. “I’d like that.”
Jey let out a low, amused little chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. He kissed your forehead, slow and lingering, then pulled back just enough to look at you with that sleepy, playful glint in his eyes.
“Besides,” he added teasingly. “You owe me, little girl. Wakin’ me up in the middle of the night just for a good fuck… it’s a damn shame.”
Your eyes fluttered open for a second, cheeks burning hot as a shy, embarrassed smile tugged at your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d just said that. So casually. So playfully. But the way he said it, with that soft smirk and the gentle way he was still holding you, made warmth bloom in your chest instead of shame.
“You’re terrible,” you mumbled, half-laughing, half-blushing as you hid your face against his neck again.
Jey laughed quietly, the sound warm and fond, and pressed another kiss to the top of your head.
“Nah,” he whispered, lips brushing your hair. “You know you love me.”
Kept you right there, cradled close against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you, warm and full and perfect. His hand stroked slow, soothing lines up and down your back while your breathing grew softer, slower, heavier.
The last thing you felt before sleep pulled you under was the gentle press of his lips to your forehead again, and the quiet, steady beat of his heart under your cheek.
A tiny bit of drool slipped from the corner of your mouth onto his skin as you finally drifted off completely.
Jey just smiled, holding you tighter, perfectly content to stay exactly like this for as long as you needed.
Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!
Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷
rhea ripley x reader
likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!
‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️
heartbeat
rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.
you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.
she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.
she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.
you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.
so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.
“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.
you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.
she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.
“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.
“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.
as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.
watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.
you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.
you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.
rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.
how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.
she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.
you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.
sprained ankle.
a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.
as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.
“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.
“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.
“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.
her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.
her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”
you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.
“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.
“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.
“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.
“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.
“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.
“why is it in the past?”
“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.
“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.
once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.
“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.
as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.
before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.
“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.
“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.
“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.
“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.
“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.
she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.
a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.
she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.
randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.
you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.
“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.
“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.
“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.
you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.
“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.
“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.
“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.
she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.
“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.
“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.
“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?
rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.
“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.
“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.
maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.
spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.
as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.
the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.
“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.
“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.
“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.
before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.
“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.
“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”
yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.
“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.
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i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷
Summary: Your neighbor just can't get enough of you.
Warnings: age gap, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (fem receiving), creampies
A/N: FINALLY FINISHED BESTIEEEEEEE 🤪🤪 as always may contain grammatical and spelling errors. i am dyslexic and in way could i proofreading this completely 😭 sorry in advance 🫶🏽 i hope you like it!!! comments, requests, and general feedback is always welcome!!! think about making a taglist too let me know if you'd be interested and ill make a post!! ANYWAYS ENOUGH TALKING ENJOYING MWAH 💋
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You were outside in your front yard looking through your mail. It was early in the morning so you were just outside in your moomoo, some slippers and your bonnet. You didn't think anyone would be out this early but you were proven wrong when a very familiar car horn went off behind you.
"Do not start with me this morning Cody." You said turning around with your arms folded across your chest
Your neighbor, Cody, rolled his passenger side window down and leaned over, smiling at you brightly.
"Good morning pretty lady." He smiled "Come over here for a minute and let me talk to you."
"Boy what did I say about bothering me?" You rolled your eyes fighting the smile trying to form on your face
"Aht don't do that." He said pointing a finger at you. "If I was bothering you, you would have cussed me out like you did old man Sammy from around the corner."
You laughed and shook your head as you walked over to his car. He wasn't wrong though. When you first moved into the neighborhood you thought old man Sammy was a sweet man until he started to try and get into your pants. Just nasty and old. He was well in his seventies you would think he knew how to treat a lady.
"What do you want Cody?" You smiled softly leaning over and into his car window
"Just wanted to see your pretty face up close this morning." He said raising a hand grab your chin in his fingers
You kissed your teeth and swatted his hand away from your face. He always does this. From the very first day you moved in Cody has been teasing you and playing these little flirting games with you. It's how the friendship between you formed. Now here you are, in the neighborhood for almost two years now and Cody still flirts with you like he did day one. You hate to admit it but it is the highlight of your day.
"Bye Cody." You smiled
"Nooooo," he said reaching over and grabbing your wrist. "I called you over for a reason."
"Which was?"
"Remember when you needed to use my washer and dryer?"
It was a about a week ago. Your washer and dryer hook up went out and you had about two weeks worth of dirty clothes you been neglecting that needed to be washed immediately. You called Cody and basically cried about it because who knew fixing a damn washer and dryer unit was that expensive. Cody told you to just come over and use his like it was obviously the only option for you and he even paid to get your unit fixed. He said consider it him paying you back for getting your brothers to fix his transmission
for free. You wanted to protest and say it was fine and that you could just go washing in the city but he came over and carried your clothes across the street to his house and already made the call to the repair man.
"Yeah I remember why?" you asked eyebrow raised
"You left some stuff behind." he said
Your face went hot in embarrassment. "Oh my God, Codes I am so sorry."
Cody raised a hand and waved you off. "No big deal it's only a few things. I gotta go to the office but when I get back I can drop them off? I get home around eleven tonight."
You leaned into car a little farther so you could grab his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his. "Why you staying in the office so late? Is everything okay?"
Cody brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. "Nothing you need to worry your beautiful head about. I'll be over later okay?"
"Alright." you sighed letting go of his hands and standing up right. "Don't overwork yourself now." you said pointing a finger at him now
"If I overwork myself you gone take care of me?" He teased
"Don't I always." You rolled your eyes
"You always got me baby." he smiled triumphedly "Now go on and get back in the house. You know this is when Sammy does his walk."
"Shit." you cursed before turing around, hurriedly grabbing your mail and running in the house.
You spent the next few hours going about your business and making dinner. You made sure to cook enough for Cody because you know on days where he is in the office late he definitely neglecting eating. You didn't make nothing too spectacular, just some baked chicken, cabbage, mash potatoes, mac and cheese and cornbread. You made it before and Cody loved it. Cody works hard and does so much for the community. It pains you a bit that he doesn't have someone to take care of him the way he takes care of others. That's why you make sure you return the favor to your neighbor whenever you can.
It was a little after eleven when you saw headlights shine through your window. You were laid out on the couch and didn't bother getting up since you let Cody know the front door was open for him an hour ago. You sat up as you heard the front door open and close softly. It took a few moments for Cody to walk down the entry way and into the living room. He held a small bag in one hand and his briefcase in another.
"You look whooped." You smiled sadly taking in the man in front of you
"Was a long day babes." He sighed walking over to you.
You stood up and grabbed his briefcase out of his hand and laid it on your coffee table. Cody placed the bag of what you assumed were your clothes right next to his case before taking your hand in his.
"Please tell me you got something to drink." He sighed smiling at you softly
"How about some dinner and a drink hmm? I cooked your favorite." You smiled, thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand gently
"Have I ever told you, you are the best?" He cheesed
"Maybe once or twice." You chuckled letting go of his hand to reach up to his suit jacket and unbutton it for him. He let his hands fall down to his side and you pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms. You took his jacket and laid it over the back of the couch before grabbing his hand and leading him to your kitchen. You made him sit at the island while you warmed his plate up in the microwave. While his food was heating up you grabbed a chilled glass out of your refrigerator and your glass of bourbon you keep just for him. You placed a sphere of ice in the glass and pour him a generous amount before going back to the microwave and grabbing his food. You placed the plate and drink in front of him and he thanked you softly before digging into the food.
The two of you chatted about your day a little bit as he ate. You even pour a glass for yourself to enjoy with him. After a while the two of you made your way back into the living room. You knew Cody needed company right now so you weren't in a rush to see him off, plus you missed hanging with him. You two haven't been able to sit like this for a while due to work and just life.
Cody unbuttoned his waistcoat and plopped down on your couch with a sigh. He brought his arms up to rest on the back of your couch, face flushed a sign the alcohol is running through his system, and legs spread open.
"C'mere pretty girl." he said tilting his head motioning you to come his way
You walked over to him, a noticeable sway in your walk from the way the alcohol was affecting you. Cody watched you cross the small area, eyes hooded and heavy. You stood in front of him and he tilted his head back to look up at you, licking his lips.
"Why you looking at me like that?" you blushed
"Because you're beautiful." he said matter of factly. "Why you still single pretty girl?"
You sighed stepped in between his legs.
You don't know when or how it came about but Cody and you always toed a very thin line. Your other neighbors already assumed the two of you were dating. Some of the teenage girls would even go as far as saying you two went together real real bad. But in all honesty the two of you were just friends, just neighbors. But the air tonight, it's something different in it.
"Never found someone worthy of being with me."
Cody sat up in the couch arms dropping from their spot on the couch. "How does one prove their worth to you then hm?" He asked as he placed a gentle hand on your hip
"By letting me use their washer and dryer."
Cody raised an eyebrow with a sly smirk on his face. "Is that right?"
You nodded your head bringing you bottom lip in between your teeth.
"And what else?" He asked using that gentle hand on your hip to guide you into his lap. You allow yourself to climb into his lap, legs straddling him. "Tell me."
"Cody." You warned feeling like lines are going to be crossed
"Come on pretty girl." Cody said bringing a hand up to your cheek, cupping it softly. "What else do you need from me to be worthy? I will do it."
"Just kiss me."
And he did. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours gently as if he was still testing to make sure it was okay. You sighed softly against his lips and brought your arms up and around his neck taking the liberty to deepen the kiss. Cody wrapped his free arm around your waist pulling you closer to his body, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.
Cody groaned into your mouth as he shifted down on the couch, his erection pressing up against your throbbing heat causing you to gasp against his lips. Cody detached his lips from yours and began to kiss along your jaw as he dropped his hand from your face to grab you by the waist. His kisses trailed from your jaw and down to your now exposed shoulder from your moomoo falling slightly. You tilted your head to the side to allow the man to kiss along your shoulder and latch his lips onto your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as his hands on your waist began to move your hips back and forth on his hard on.
You bit your bottom lip in between your teeth as you placed your hands on his shoulders to ground yourself as you let yourself sink into the pleasure of your neighbor kissing on your neck and grinding your wet pussy against his slacks.
Cody pulled away from your neck and looked up at you in his lap, eyes are dark and stormy blue, laced with lust and hunger as he continued to move your hips just the way he like against him. He watched the faces you made as you began to soak through your panties, trying to etch them into his memory forever.
He dropped a hand in between you and him, "Don't stop." he said noticing your hips still when he stopped moving them for you.
You nodded your head in obedience and began to grind against him again, soft whimpers falling off your tongue as Cody reached for the bottom of your night gown and pulled it up and brought it to your mouth. You opened your mouth and allowed him to push the satin fabric into your mouth. Cody leaned back against the couch with a quiet "fuck" escaping from his mouth ad he watched your soaking wet panties sliding against his front with ease. A dark spot formed on his pants as you continued to please yourself in his lap.
"Cody." you moaned, letting the fabric drop from you mouth as you threw your head back
"I'm here baby." he replied placing his hands back on your waist
"Cody please?" you whined
"Tell me," Cody said stilling your hips. "tell me what you want from me."
"I need you Cody," you stated "I need you so bad."
Cody rested his forehead against yours. "You already have me."
"Then fuck me like it."
Cody wrapped his arms around tour waist tight once more as he stood up off the couch with you in his arms. He carried you up the stairs and into your bedroom. He sat you om the foot of the bed gently, capturing your lips in his, kissing you gently as his hands worked your moomoo up and over your head causing the kiss to break.
You sat there looking up at Cody in nothing but your dripping panties. Cody looked down at you, chest rising and falling quickly as he undid his cufflinks and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging it off and letting it hit the floor. Cody spread your legs open as he dropped to his knees in between them. His hands hooked on the waistband of your panties and you raised up off the bed just enough for him to slip them down and off.
Cody grabbed you right ankle and put it over his shoulder. He pressed soft kisses along your calf, on your knee and up your thigh. As he got closer and closer to your aching pussy, the two of you maintained eye contact as your breath picked up.
Cody's face was right in front of your pussy. His breath could be felt against your wetness causing a shiver to run through your body. Cody pressed a soft kiss on your lips causing you to jolt under the contact. Cody chuckled softly before taking his tongue and pressing it flat against your pussy. You moaned and let a hand get tangled into his hair. Cody moaned as he began to lick on your pussy, his tongue wiggling it's way in between you fat outer lips. You gasped as his tongue hit your clit. You fell back onto the bed as Cody spread your lips with his fingers and letting his tongue flick against your clit. You let out a loud series of moans and his tongue swirled around your clit. Cody hummed as he took your clit in his mouth, sucking on the bundle of nerve as his free hand dropped down and worked on unbuttoning his slacks. Cody unzipped himself free, pulling his erection free from his boxers as it began to leak all over himself.
You laid on the bed, eyes closed and back arched as Cody continued to lap at your pussy until his face was covered in your juices. Cody pulled away from your pussy and pressed a kiss on your thigh before dropping your leg from his shoulder allowing you to take a moment to collect your breath as he stood up and stripped out of the remainder of his clothes.
You laid on the bed with knees bent and legs spread wide open, tiddies in your hand, playing with your nipples as you watched Cody take his precum and use it as lube as he rubbed his erection. Cody dropped his dick from his hands to grab you by the thighs so you were back at the edge of the bed. He lined himself up at your entrance and grabbed his dick and tapping his tip on your pussy, groaning at the strings of wetness that attached to his dick from your dripping pussy.
Cody aligned his tip at your entrance and gave you a look asking for permission. You bit you lip and reached down in between your legs, grabbing his erection and guiding him inside you. You gasped and he groaned as he entered your heat. Cody placed a hand up by your head as he leaned down to press your lips against his. Your arms wrapped around him as he bottomed out inside you. His hips stilled for a moment to allow you to adjust to his length.
You began to move your hips, fucking yourself up on him. Cody took that as a sign to start moving his hips.
"Fuck." he moaned as he pulled his hips back all the way until it was just the tip in you before snapping his hips roughly
You choked on a moan as Cody continued to pull almost all the way out and slam back into your pussy.
"Fuck Cody," you moaned "feels so fucking good."
"Yeah? You like how I fuck you?" he questioned thrusting in and out of you faster. "Do you know how long I been wanting you underneath me? How long I had to play good neighbor when all I wanted was to see you take me?" he all but growled against your lips as he placed a hand on your neck, not squeezing it or applying any pressure, just as a reminder, an anchor of sorts to the both of you. "And God do you take me so fucking good baby, look at how you got my dick all creamy."
You moaned at his words as he pounded into your pussy. You knew you were making a mess on his dick, you felt yourself leaking onto the bed but you just couldn't bring yourself to care as Cody brought his hand down on your pussy to run circles on your clit as he fucked your pussy.
"Cody, Cody, Cody," you parted as if his name was a mantra. "Cody please I am so close."
Cody capture your lips in his again as he fucked into you harder. The sound of your wet pussy being fucked in and out filled the room. Moans from the both of you began to get louder and louder as you approached your climax. Cody hissed as you clinched around him.
"I'm gonna cum." you warned
"Cum for me." he said against your lips. "Cum for me baby."
You nodded your head as the knot in your stomach got tighter and tighter. You let out a small yelp as you wrapped your legs around Cody's waist.
"Cody!" you exclaimed "Fucking shit." you gasped as your legs began to shake and your body jolted as your orgasm came crashing down over you.
"Good fucking girl." Cody praised as he fucked into you faster and harder chasing his own orgasm
"Fuck." he groaned, throwing his head into the crock of your neck. You wrapped an arm around his head as he dug his fingers into your waist as he grunted and moaned as his cum began to flow out of him and into your pussy.
Cody continued to fuck into you until his hips slowed and he just laid on top of you. He pressed soft kisses on your neck, nipping at your skin gently causing you to giggle softly as your fingers ran up and down his back.
The two of you laid there taking in the moment and each other before Cody pulled his face out of your neck and pressed a soft and deep kiss on your lips.
"Does this mean we can tell the girls we go together for real now?" he chuckled as he pulled out of you and laid down next to you
"Oh yeah." you giggled. "Tell them we go together real bad now."
Summary: During a contract signing between Cody and Roman, your relationship is leaked to the world, but that doesn’t bother him: what bothers him is the world play Roman does with your name, which causes him to snap.
A/N: Y’all, it’s been a minute (2 years) since I’ve written for Cody, but he’s here on my blog again! Throwing it back to WM490 against Roman! Hope You Enjoy!
You stood inside the ring, watching as Cody made his way down the ramp while smiling.
You had to bite back any trace of emotion, trying to stay professional, but also keep your relationship a secret.
You knew if he caught you smiling, he would too, and that would raise a huge amount of suspicion.
As he took a seat in one of the rolling chairs, the sound of his opponent’s music began to play.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your Undisputed WWE Champion, Roman Reigns!”
Many fans held their “ones” up, respecting him as he entered the ring and sat in the seat across from your husband.
“Okay guys, let’s just get this over with. Professionally.” Adam Pearce stated while handing the contract over to Cody.
He quickly signed it before pushing it towards Roman who also had no problem with signing.
Part of you thought that was it.
They would both be grown adults and sign the paper without a problem, but that was until Cody stood up that Roman motioned to you for the microphone.
“Hold on Cody, wait a minute.”
He paused.
“Why are you rushing to get out of here? Got someone you need to be with?” He partially joked, smirking as fans ‘oohed’. “Guys, I’m just kidding!” he laughed. “Or am I, Cody?”
He let out a groan as he stood up and adjusted the heavy title on his shoulder.
“Rumor has it that you’re seeing someone. Someone very familiar to all…”
Cody’s jaw clenched, but that was the only reaction he allowed to be shown.
“What? You don’t believe me?” He asked while tilting his head to the side. “Wiseman, show everyone,” he ordered.
You played with the rings on your finger in hopes to calm your nerves, but your heart was beating faster than your mind was thinking.
What could he possibly be talking about? Were you and Cody not sneaky enough? Did Cody do something with someone else?
No, he wouldn't dare.
Your question was answered when the tron popped on, footage of you and Cody kissing in what you both thought was a secluded area, played for the whole world.
What made it worse was the bling of yours and Cody’s wedding ring, which was currently not on your fingers, making it clear that you both were hiding everything.
They must’ve caught you before you two departed to your own respective jobs in the arena.
Cody continued his poker face, staring a hole in Roman. Meanwhile, your eyes were wide as saucers, not knowing how to react.
The secret’s out — everyone knows. Cody isn’t reacting which is scaring you, but another thing is; what does that mean for your job?
“Is that why you wanna get this over with? Because you’re married? You wanna go run off with your wife?”
Again, Cody didn’t flinch at the crowd’s reactions, screaming of emotions loud in his ears.
“And this Sunday, I’m gonna beat your ass,” he promised, voice getting serious and feet taking steps closer towards him. “And after your wife screams my name in that microphone in victory, I’m gonna make her scream in my hotel ro—”
Before he could finish Cody was on him, the microphone making a loud thumping noise as it fell to the mat.
Luckily, Pearce held an arm across you somewhat trying to protect you from the fight.
You watched with worry as Cody continued his beat down, successfully getting the upper hand on the champ.
“Cody stop!” you yelled while watching the ramp.
Knowing Roman, it wouldn't be long before the Uso’s, Solo, or even Sami come running down to help their ‘Chief’.
“Cody, please!” you begged, but he didn’t listen.
You decided to take matters into your own hands, moving from Pearces’ barrier and pulling at Cody’s arm, forcing him to stop his assault. “Baby, please stop and let’s go. His boys are gonna come soon!”
That thankfully seemed to grab his attention, his hand grabbing yours as he helped you out the ring.
It proved to be a good thing that you made him stop because the Uso’s and Solo came sliding in seconds later, amped to fight.
Backstage, adrenaline was still pumping through his veins as he thought about what had just happened.
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” you assured him. “Don’t let what happened get to you.”
You made sure to adjust his head so he was looking at you.
“Save all that anger for Sunday night. Maybe after you win, you can have me screaming in your locker room.” You suggested with a wink, a smile finally breaking on his face.
summary: your occasionally jealous husband finds out that your first ever dance since becoming a professional figure skater involves a male partner.
warnings: mature language, angst, government name use, light toxicity & smut!
A/N: thank you to @jennakaoriiii for this request. i hope you enjoy! <3
“alright, awesome work!” your coach calls out, clapping his hands as you skate back toward the middle of the rink. “go take a drink and relax for a bit. i’m gonna work with ricky on his part and then we’ll meet back up to go over the duo choreo.”
you nod, taking deep breaths out of your mouth.
you’ve been ice skating for as long as you could remember.
from pretty much since you could walk, your parents brought you to the community frozen pond.
for your 4th birthday, you got your first pair of skates.
by the time you were 7, you’d been taking lessons every monday and friday after school at the local arena.
at 10, you were performing recitals for said arena.
and just recently, about two years ago, by the age of 29, you’ve officially gone professional.
truth be told, you don’t remember life without skating. and honestly, you don’t want to.
you accept his offer of double high fives and a quick hug before gliding back towards the entry, where your husband joe and daughter kaylina are sat, watching you with matching toothy grins.
“you looked beautiful my love,” joe compliments, holding out a hand and helping you off the ice before offering you a kiss.
you cup his bearded face with both hands, standing on the tips of your blades.
you thank him in between kisses, causing him to chuckle against your lips.
you pull away, brushing your nose lightly against his, and kneel down to your daughter’s 3’11 level.
“how do you skate like that, mommy?!” she asks with a heavy lisp, as a result of her two front teeth falling out two nights ago while munching on a pre-dinner fruit salad.
you smile softly, brushing stray curls out of her face. “lots of practice, sweet girl.”
“how much?” she asks curiously, watching as you take a seat on the bench and go to re-tighten your skates.
“well,” you begin, untying the multiple rows of laces. “i started when i was about four.”
she gasps dramatically, causing you and joe to both chuckle. “younger than me?!”
you nod, giggling softly. “that’s right. grandma and grandpa got me a teacher and i never stopped learning.”
“wow!” she exclaims. “i wish i could skate like you.”
your heart swells.
knowing that there’s a fantastic chance you’ll be able to do what your parents did, teach their daughter the art of figure skating, it brings you so much joy.
you chuckle again, stroking her cheek with your knuckle. “after my show, once i have enough time, i promise i’ll take you onto the ice with me. deal?”
she nods, jumping up and down with a squeal.
just as you’re finishing tying the second bow, the sound of someone skating over to the three of you gets closer, causing you to look up.
“heyyy!” you greet ricky, jumping up and wrapping him into a tight hug.
he greets you back with matching excitement and turns to your husband and daughter.
“ricky, this is my husband joe and daughter kaylina,” you begin to introduce everyone, interlocking fingers with your man. “guys, this is ricky. he’s my partner in the big showcase coming up.”
“hi, ricky!” your daughter acknowledges him cheerfully, causing him to chuckle.
“it’s so nice to meet you guys,” he says cheerily. “i’ve heard such good things.”
when joe does nothing but offer a quick nod, confusion comes over you.
normally, he’s incredibly outgoing and friendly around new people. why is he acting like this now?
you narrow your eyes, just for a quick second, before ricky clears his throat.
“well uh,” he begins nervously, turning to you. “i just wanted to relay a message from coach. we just finished up my choreo so we’re gonna start on ours in like fifteen-ish.”
you nod, putting on a smile to prevent making the situation any more awkward. “sounds good, thank you.”
you two share another hug before he flashes a half smile to your family and gets back in the rink, wasting no time skating away.
you watch him for a moment before turning back to joe, who’s already helping your daughter into her coat.
“leaving already?” you ask, unable to hide your disappointment.
joe doesn’t look up. instead, he just gives you a quick nod. “we’re gonna go start on dinner.”
you blink in confusion.
normally, he happily stays for your whole practice and you three drive home together as a family.
what’s happening?
“hey,” you say quietly, gently touching his forearm. “is everything okay?”
he looks into your eyes for a few moments before nodding again. “fine. i just wanna get a head-start on the food, that’s all.”
choosing not to push any further, you nod and look down at the rug beneath your feet.
“we’ll see you at home,” joe mutters, kissing the top of your head before walking away, hand in hand with your daughter.
“bye, mommy!” kaylina calls out, her little pink glove waving at you, before turning back around towards the door.
you stand there helpless, watching them until they’re out of sight.
“hey, everything alright?” your coach asks, placing a friendly hand on your back.
“y-yeah fine,” you reply, and you two head back onto the ice.
“mommy!” kaylina calls out, running down the flight of stairs near your front door.
you smile, squat down to her level, and wrap her in a tight hug, attacking her with kisses.
her giggles are like music to your ears, especially with how anxious you’ve been since joe walked out the way he did earlier.
“hi babygirl,” you greet her. “have you been good for daddy?”
she instantly nods, holding up a hot pink glittery crayon. “we colored and played barbies! but daddy had to stop because he’s making dinner.”
you give her a warm smile, nodding. “i’m sure the food will be done soon so we can play afterwards, okay?”
“okay!” she replies, wrapping her little arms around your neck.
you hug back tightly and pull away to give her a kiss on the cheek before she’s back up the stairs.
you watch until she’s out of sight, before the sound of a sink turning on snaps you back to reality and right towards the kitchen.
inside, joe is hard at work, washing and peeling some potatoes.
you walk over and place a loving hand on his back, causing him to look over.
“oh hey,” he greets you, focusing back on the task at hand. “didn’t even hear you come in.”
now he’s not even bothering to kiss you hello, despite not being able to get his hands off you the few times you’ve come home on your own before this.
something is definitely wrong.
you take a deep breath, dropping your hand and placing it in your jacket pocket.
“that’s weird, because you’re always damn near opening the door for me. not that i’m ever walking through it without you on nights that i have practice anyway.”
he stops in his tracks.
“wanna tell me what that was back there?” you continue, nodding towards the living room. “why you walked out and left me a nervous wreck for two hours thinking i did something wrong?”
he places the vegetables down, shuts the faucet, and looks down at you.
“what would you have done?” he asks, leaning against the sink.
you narrow your eyes. “what are you talking about?”
he shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “what would you have done if you had to find out, with zero warning ahead of time, that i was performing in my first professional show with a woman?”
any expression you had in that moment drops from shock.
you knew joe could be jealous sometimes, but to judge your professional relationship with someone he doesn’t even know? this is a new low.
“so that’s what this is all about?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.
when he doesn’t answer, you continue.
“you made me feel like a piece of shit, thinking i did something wrong, because you’re jealous that i’m working with someone who you didn’t even bother to get to know?”
“why should i bother? he was all fucking over you!”
the guy gave you a singular hug. he can’t be serious right now.
“oh, give me a break, joe! it was a hug.”
“so what?! who is he to touch what’s mine right in front of me?! not to mention i don’t even fucking know him!”
“you didn’t even give him a chance!”
“i don’t have to know him to know that he has a thing for you.”
you go to stand your ground even further, but nothing comes out. just the feeling of hot tears streaming down your face.
“you know what? fine.” you drop your car keys on the counter, hold up your hands, and turn to walk away.
he narrows his eyes. “fine what?”
“if you still don’t trust me two years into marriage, then fuck you. that’s what!” you call out, before practically running out of the room and darting upstairs.
it’s been over an hour.
you haven’t moved, haven’t taken a shower, haven’t even changed out of your practice outfit.
all you’ve been doing is sitting on the bathroom floor, back against the door, head in your knees, crying.
you told yourself he wasn’t worth it. that whatever the fuck he thought was going on between you and ricky would only be proven right if you didn’t defend yourself.
but nothing sounded more heartbreaking to you than your own husband not trusting you. and not just that, but doubting your loyalty towards him.
you lift your head and use the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tears before standing up.
in one stride, you grab the first pair of pajama shorts and oversized hoodie you can find out of your dresser, and head back to the bathroom.
within moments of the water hitting you, you feel instant relief. like a strong pair of arms are holding you and nothing could ever hurt you again.
god, you miss joe making you feel this way.
except, when you go to wash your lower half, that’s exactly what’s occurring.
two muscular, tattoo filled arms are wrapped around your waist.
you look out of the corner of your eye and begin to feel lips — his lips — feathering soft kisses down your neck and onto your shoulder.
you turn in his arms, your eyes beginning to sting all over again once they meet his.
they’re so full of guilt. so full of sorrow.
you can absolutely tell how regretful and sorry he is from his face alone, but you need to hear it.
“baby i…” he’s only said two words so far, but the rasp speaks volumes.
he only gets this way when he’s about to beg for forgiveness.
you’ve only heard it one other time, when he accidentally dropped the antique plate that your great grandma made as a wedding gift to you two before she passed away.
from the second you told him gravity is natural and forgave him, he got on his knees and ate you out until the sun came up the next morning.
“i need you to know how sorry i am,” he continues between shaky breaths, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from bursting into tears at any moment. “i made an ass out of myself at the rink today. you were right, i had no right to act like that towards ricky and, especially you, when it was my first time meeting him. i just….panicked.”
the way you want to slap the shit out of him right now. but, being the understanding wife you are, you let him continue.
“the truth is, well i guess you know this already but, i’m fucking addicted to you. you’re my wife. fuck, you’re the mother of my child. and seeing a guy get that close to you it just….it triggered something in me. it’s like a protective switch went off.”
“i just wish you let me explain,” you exclaim, a singular tear rolling down your cheek. “i felt so bad about myself thinking i did something wrong from the second you left.”
he wipes your cheeks with his thumb and cups them, tears of his own filling his eyes now. “i know, baby. i know you did. and you didn’t deserve to feel like that. you never should again.”
you sniffle in response.
“i don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, but i just needed you to know how sorry i am, sweetheart. and how much i love you and the life we have together. more than anything in this world.”
you watch on as he sinks to his knees and presses a kiss right below your belly before looking up at you.
you run your fingers through his long, black locks. “you know i can’t stay mad at you for too long, joe.”
he smiles, grabbing ahold of your hands and kissing the inside of your palms.
“i probably shouldn’t this soon but,” you continue, taking a moment to enjoy the hot water cascading into your curls and down your back. “i forgive you. and i love what we have too. so much.”
he lets out a sigh of relief before standing upright and grabbing your face, smashing his lips against yours.
you kiss back immediately, throwing your arms around his neck.
“up baby,” you hear him mumble into your throat, as he lightly taps your sides.
you do as he says and jump, wrapping your legs around his waist when he catches you.
the feeling of the cold tiles against your back sends a chill down your spine, causing you to quietly moan against his lips.
“already got you a moaning mess and i ain’t done shit yet,” he mumbles in between kisses below your ear.
the same man that was just on his knees apologizing to you is now right back to his cocky self? not on your watch.
you grab ahold of his face and turn it towards you. “you want me to go right back to hating you? shut the fuck up and fuck me.”
he stares at you in disbelief for a moment before licking his top lip and letting out a chuckle.
“you done lost your mind girl,” he teases, looking back up at you. “but i’ll let you have it tonight.”
you watch on as he lowers his hand to his rock hard member, eventually sliding the head up and down your folds.
you curse under your breath as he begins to enter you, his length reaching further and further inside your core.
“j-joe! wait!” you call out, digging your nails into his back.
he chuckles again, much darker this time. “nah, baby. you wanted this, now take it. all of it.”
heyyyyyyyy. this is dedicated to @harmshake for inspiring me. love ya twin. ty always <3 ty for getting me out my funk and inspiring me.
and @shes2real. loveeeeeee ur fics. gotta go check em out if you haven’t.
warnings: pure smut. no plot. nun. just freakayyyyy. no one under 18.
parings: roman reigns x black!reader
“ah!” your fresh manicured white toes popped as your leg laid over your man’s shoulder
“i know, babygirl, i know…” he sighed into your neck as his hips continued to snap towards your pussy, “been a good girl all day for me…gotta give my baby her reward.”
roman loved being vocal during sex. he loved making your head spin and your heart swell with his words making you speechless. well…you were already speechless but yk what i mean.
he grabbed you other leg hiking it up further around his waist allowing you to feel him deeper, “why are y—you fucking me like this?” you strain latching your hand onto his back, digging ur nails into it attempting to relive the pressure in your center
“why not? tight ass pussy always ready for me. you hear her crying for me? let me show her daddy’s home.”
squelching noises echoed from around the room. you could feel yourself dripping down roman’s dick right onto the bed sheets creating a wet spot. your pussy swollen and worn out yet still squeezing down on him pulling him back inside for more. he loved you like this for him—a babbling, dizzy, dick drunk mess. you loved it even more.
he pampered you in and out of the bed room; this all starting from coming home to a hot bath waiting with candles and pink rose petals scattered around. you let him wash your body down, an intimate act all too familiar, before his washcloth covered hand got closer towards ur aching pussy—washing rubbing you there letting the heat from the cloth bring you towards your first orgasm of the night. you both quickly took it to somewhere it wouldn’t turn into a slip n’ slide…well?
that familiar feeling for the 4th time tonight pulsed inside your belly again ready to gush out onto your man’s dick.
“shit! You gotta stop scratchin’ me baby…” he hissed before throwing ur legs over his arms, pushing them towards either side of your head
his movements sped him, continuing to dig at your pussy making a mess in the middle of your thighs. bad choice.
you lived for your man’s back. the way his body loomed over yours like a shield felt nearly romantic. and it was beautiful to say the least. you knew if you kept leaving marks, he’d kill you for it in the morning. he’d have to cover up again, which would make him loose out on money. roman knew his fan base, the ladies wanted what they wanted. but fuck those hoes…you’d give them something to stare at for-sure now. you’d carve ur name with your nails if you could.
your nails caved inwards again in his skin dragging all around to relieve both the pain and pleasure your man was creating with the swivel of his hips. the vein in his dick pulsing against ur spot with the new stroke. your hips attempting to buck into the mattress to escape the new rhythm.
“you feel me baby? right in that pussy? right where i need to be, baby. you wetting it up so good baby. i’m not stopping till you cum on it.”
“f-fu-uckkk! i can’t roman, ah!” you sobbed out sinking ur teeth into his shoulder. your pussy clenching and unclenching, his dick desparate to find its hiding place in your pussy.
“why not baby? fuckin’ good ass pussy. gimme what i want, babygirl. get that nut.” he roared into your ear
not for the first time, you felt the white flash behind ur eyes as heat radiated from ur toes right towards your pussy. with a loud whine of incoherent words, your cum gushed out around roman’s still thrusting cock now with a new layer of your cum coating it, fucking your through it. you let out a mixture of screams and sobs as he chased his nut, fucking into you faster, the stimulation becoming too much to bare. your nails scratching roman anywhere it could, clawing at him.
“where can i cum baby? where you want it at?”
“in my pussy..” you whimper out hoarsely
“nah, speak up. Where you want it at, baby? i can come in this pussy? My pussy?”
“in my pussy! fuck! cum in meeee, roman. cum in me, pleaseeee.” you beg with a pout, he leaned down connecting your lips together. his strokes becoming erratic before you felt the long hot spurts of his cum spraying your walls.
“shit! fuck! i can’t stop, baby. ahh!” he moaned in your ear as his thrust slowed down. your breaths both racing to pull it back into your lungs
roman continued to feed you small soft thrust before pulling out. he eased your legs of your shoulders to watch the mixture of your cum oozing out of your pussy and dribble onto the bed sheets. he lowered a thumb to your clit to rub small circles, causing your pussy to convulse and push his cum out in bubbled pools. after, he used his thumb to finger fuck it back into you with a small whimper, he got up to grab a towel to clean you off.
“damn, baby!” you hear him call out from the dark bathroom
“what?” you strain out, still trying to catch your heart rate back to normal
“we gotta invest in some gloves or something for you, when we fuckin’ baby girl.” he reemerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand. you took the time to notice all the bright red scratches that coated his tanned arms, and the teeth marks in his neck. he did a small spin, to show you his back.
