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thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

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two for the price of one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you've ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That's what brothers are for, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader & Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Like, I literally don't even know anymore. Tommy is a cuck in this one, Joel is a dirty talking menace. Pre/No Outbreak AU. Talk of infertility, mention of consuming alcohol, Breeding kink, girlfriend sharing, masterbation (M), oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, plenty of dirty talk, praise kink.

Word Count | 4.2k

Authors Note | I just want to shoutout the anon who left this request in my inbox. It rotted my brain and now we're here. Special shoutout to the JFC - specifically @sinsofsummers for telling me I could do this and @dinsdjrn and @cavillscurls for their help with some of the dialogue here. This is just filth. Pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy.

That damn piece of paper was haunting you, even from its place deep in the drawer where Tommy had stuffed it when he’d opened it and showed you. Its words telling you what you’d both anticipated but had wanted to prove wrong. Tommy. Infertile. Dashing those hopes of your beautiful babies with thick curls and big, beautiful eyes. He’d taken it hard, like it was an abject failure of his own manhood – the one thing he should be able to do beyond anything else, give you the child you so desperately yearned for, he couldn’t.

There was a week of tension, where you treaded on eggshells, trying not to bring it up, despite desperately wanting to discuss other options. Then came his acceptance of his emotions, late at night, curled up behind you in bed. It started with a light sniffle, then you could feel his tears drip onto the skin of your shoulders, then the whole-body sobs as he held you, told you he was sorry. You’d turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck and held him, whispering softly that it was okay, that it didn’t matter, that you had options. You could still have a family, just perhaps not in the traditional sense.

Then came the weeks of appointments. You’d met with an adoption agency first. They’d talked you through the application process, what they expected of you, talked about the type of family you want, but Tommy had been adamantly against it for your first child. He wanted something borne of your blood, of your flesh, even if it wasn’t his that joined it.

Then there were the medical appointments talk of special drugs Tommy could take, or the possibility of IVF, even a sperm donor. It had started to look like these could be an option until the cost was placed in front of you. There was no way either of you could afford it, not even together, not even if you sold the house for something smaller. You’d reached the end of the line with no answers and the thought that you’d have to resign yourself to being childless.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? You could take all the love you’d wrapped up for a baby and put it somewhere else. You could love your niece Sarah harder, give some of it to the children you worked with each day at the school – you didn’t need to be a mother to feel complete. The longer you sat with it though, the more you felt something missing. The end of the line was frustrating and lonely. That was, until Tommy came up with an alternative.

It's late on a Thursday evening. You’ve just cleaned up from dinner and you’re lounging on the couch with Tommy’s arms wrapped around you, your head resting on one of his shoulders.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He muses above, settling his lips on the crown of your head.

“Always.” You squeeze the hand you’re resting on his thigh.

“What if we ask Joel?”

“To fix the back steps?” You ask, referencing the rotting steps that had needed sorting since winter cleared, “Can’t you just do it yourself?”

“No sugar,” He clears his throat, “Y’know what, forget I said anythin’.”

“Tommy,” You grumble, pushing yourself off his shoulder, you rest an arm across the back of the couch where he’s sitting, “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.”

He’s nervous. You can see the bouncing of his knee, something you’d clocked was a nervous habit on your first date. He’s also running a hand along the back of his neck, exactly what he always does when he’s got to say something difficult. You can also see the start of prickles of sweat on his brow. He’s not just nervous, he’s uncomfortable. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the way he’d taught you to do it when you’d first met, when he was still grappling with the anxiety and PTSD of being a veteran.

“I’m worried I’m gonna scare you, sugar.”

You run a hand through his thick head of curls, “Tommy, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise to just hear me out before freaking out, okay?”

You stick your pinky up, motioning for him to join his own with yours, “Pinky swear, Tommy Miller.”

“What if we ask Joel, you know….” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for the words he needs, “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.”

“Just take a deep breath and say it all at once.”

He takes a deep breath in like you instructed, blowing it out through his mouth, “What if we ask Joel to help with gettin’ you pregnant?”

It takes a minute for what he’s said to properly sink it. Your first train of thought, stupidly, is that Joel is a carpenter, not a doctor, so there’s no possible way he’s qualified to help with this. Then it washes over you all at once. Heat prickling at your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat, you think you might be sick.

“You want me to sleep with your brother?” You ask, tone coming out far more accusatory than intended, you soften your expression and squeeze his shoulder when you notice how hurt he looks.

“Well, it certainly ain’t my first option, or the second and third for that matter,” He sighs, “Look, it was stupid, forget I asked.”

He moves to get up from the couch, but you’re dragging him back down, fingers gripped around his wrist, “It’s not stupid Tommy, but you gotta help me understand how this is an option.”

He’s looking at you now, big brown eyes with a hint of sadness staring into your own. He cups your cheek in one of his palms, “I know how bad you want this sugar, how much you want a family,” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, sorry we can’t afford the fancy drugs that would make this easier,” He sighs deeply, “The only option we have is to do somethin’ like this, and if I’m gonna let another man touch you, I want it to be someone I trust, and he’s the only person I would ever trust with this,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Least I know it might have a chance of lookin’ somethin’ like me too, instead of goddamn Steven from Ohio or whoever they’d use.”

You feel your gut twist when he speaks. This absolutely batshit crazy idea is actually coming from an incredible place of care. He knows you want a child; lord knows you were trying your hardest together to make it happen before that damn piece of paper had to go and ruin it all.

“You wouldn’t find it weird, knowing I’d had sex with your brother?”

“Well, it doesn’t mean anythin’, does it baby?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” You shrug, it was just a means to an end, “You think he’ll agree?”

“I don’t know baby,” He answers honestly, wrapping you back into his arms, “I’ll take him out this weekend, ask him and see what he thinks.”

There’s still something here that doesn’t sit right with you. Sure, it makes sense, and of all the people who you could choose for yourself you’d probably have settled on Joel too. Stoic and sensible Joel, brooding and grumpy Joel. He’d always been kind, had welcomed you into the family with open arms, praised you multiple times for finally keeping his brother on the straight and narrow. He was a good man, loved his little girl with all his heart, would never hurt a hair on your head, but you were still uncomfortable.

“If he does agree,” You shift nervously on the couch, “I want you to be there.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“No, of course I trust him Tommy,” You sigh, “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.”

“Anythin’ for you, sugar.”

It’s early on Sunday morning when Tommy rolls into bed, 3am to be exact, smelling of whiskey to tell you he’s finally asked Joel to help you. He slinks onto bed and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing over your neck and down your shoulder to wake you. When you finally grumble and admit you’re very muchawake now, with his hand gripping your hip, he’s speaking in a hushed whisper.

“He said yes.”

“He take much convincing?” You ask, shuffling around in his arms so you’re facing him, his face gripped in your palms.

“He was wary, thought I’d lost my mind for a good few minutes,” Tommy leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Told him it was my idea and you’d thought the same, but he came around, think he knows how much we both want this.”

A part of you had thought he’d say no. That there was no way that stoic, sensible Joel would ever consider sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend in order to knock her up, but he’d proved himself a man of many surprises before. As Tommy presses kisses to your lips and settles you both to sleep, there’s the bubbling of nerves in your belly, of doubt. Are you really doing the right thing? Is this going to make the dynamic between the three of you awkward as hell? Sure, you’re all grown adults and this is just a means to an end, but there’s still the unknown of what comes after.

Tommy goes out that morning and brings back a bag, filled with ovulation tests and, perhaps a little prematurely, pregnancy tests. You do one of the ovulation tests that morning and as expected, the screen shows a sad face, gratefully showing you that you still have time to prepare for what you’re going to do. Three days later when you do the test again, there’s a grinning happy face, almost taunting you that it’s time to face the music. You show the test to Tommy, who places a palm on the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. He murmurs that he’ll tell Joel, and that’s how not even twenty-four hours later, it really is time to bite the bullet.

It's late, Joel having insisted that he needed to make sure Sarah was settled and asleep before he came over. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling aimlessly whilst you wait. You really had no idea how this was going to play out, so you’d dressed yourself in a simple cotton nightdress, silk robe tied around your middle for extra coverage. There was an empty whiskey tumbler on the nightstand. You’d had three, maybe four? Enough to take the edge off, but not too much that you weren’t aware of what was happening.

You hear the doorbell chime and then Tommy’s heavy footsteps downstairs as he opens the door. You can hear his voice and Joel’s mingling together, but you can’t decipher what either are saying. You probably don’t want too either. What could two brothers’ possibly have to say to each other when one is getting ready to sleep with the others girlfriend? You listen to them talk for a bit before you can hear two sets of feet ascending the stairs. You stand from the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for another layer of comfort when there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in!” You call, bouncing nervously from foot to foot.

The door swings open and Joel is stood there, dressed in his usual attire, dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt, work boots obviously discarded downstairs, Tommy knew you hated people tracking dirt into the house. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in and you think you must look ridiculous, silk robe making way to bare legs – it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he could just push the material up, do what he needed to do and be gone, but now you wonder if it looks like you’re trying to seduce him.

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel’s voice is soft and when you look into his eyes, they are too, and it does put you at some ease, “C’mere.” He’s motioning for you to step closer, opening his arms so he can pull you into a hug.

You’ve hugged Joel hundreds of times before this, in much the same way. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, the other squeezing into the middle of your back. It’s usually friendly, meaningless really, but when you take in the press of his broad frame, you can’t help but realise you’re going to know him far more intimately than you’d ever imagined by the end of the night.

He releases you and you’re semi-aware that Tommy has slunk into the room behind his brother, he’s leaning against the wall as he watches Joel take hold of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the bed where you had been before. God, you think, he’s not wasting his time, he wants this to be over just as much as I do. You look up at his broad frame towering over you, if this was anyone else, you’d be intimidated, but he’s still got that soft look to his brown eyes. He shocks you next, cupping your jaw in his hand and running his calloused thumb over your bottom lip.

He turns his head to Tommy, “You wanna tell me what she likes?”

Oh. Oh. You’d expected something much more clinical than this. You’d never imagined he’d work to make sure you enjoyed it. You also turn your head in Tommy’s direction. He’s still leant against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other with his arms crossed.

“She likes getting her pussy eaten, don’t you baby?”

Joel is gently coaxing your face back to look at him, staring directly into your eyes, “That right, darlin’?” You look up at him as you nod, mouth open a little in shock, “Wanna make sure you enjoy this,” He’s saying, “Gonna take real good care of you.”

Then, he’s dropping to his knees at the front of the bed, shifting so your legs are draped over his wide shoulders. Whilst Joel is focused on kissing trails from your knee, slowly up the expanse of your thigh, you look to Tommy, who has moved from the wall to sit in the small chair in the corner of the room that you would usually use to read in. He gives you a nod and a small smile, silently telling you to enjoy yourself. Your turn your attention back to Joel between your legs, who has slowly hitched up the cotton of your nightdress to pool at your hips, exposing your pussy to him.

You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin and there’s an anticipation building that you hadn’t expected. You’re moving your hips, almost subconsciously, to chase the relief you know his mouth was about to bring. Joel has his big palms on your hips then, holding you steady before he’s licking up the length of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so gently between your folds to find your clit. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t noticed you were even holding in, then Joel is moving again, tongue dipping into the entrance of your pussy, licking all the way up again before he’s laser focused on your clit.

Your hands instinctively rake through his hair, gripping the strands between your fingers to keep him in place as he uses the tip of his tongue to run tight, wet circles to your bundle of nerves. You’re propping yourself up with a hand on the mattress behind you whilst the other keeps its place locking in Joel’s hair. Then, you’re actually grinding your pussy into his mouth, desperate for more but scared to ask for it.

“It’s okay baby,” You hear Tommy speak from his place on the chair, “We want you to feel good, don’t be shy about askin’.”

You look down between your thighs and see Joel looking up at you, mouth still latched to your aching pussy, “Joel,” You groan, “Fingers, please.”

“So polite, darlin’.” He murmurs against your skin before he’s doing as you asked.

He’s still showering your clit with attention, the sounds of his literal slurping doing nothing to stop the flush of arousal you’re feeling right now, as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your slick cunt. You don’t know what you’d expected of Joel in this kind of scenario, perpetually single Joel, who never really seemed interested in anyone. You knew now, as he was curling those fingers inside of you, pressing into the spot that had you crying out and gripping his hair tighter than ever, that it wasn’t because of his abilities that he was single.

“Fuck, holy shit Joel, I think….”

“You gonna come for him baby?” You hear Tommy ask from the corner of the room.

“I think…” You let out a sharp cry, “Don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy, tongue still running those tight circles over your bud, but now he latches his lips around it and sucks, actually sucks at your clit. You’re lost. Your elbow buckles and you collapse on your back onto the bed, crying out a string of expletives as Joel works you through your high. Pleasure has burst across your skin, finding every single possible nerve ending and setting you on fire, your thighs are gripping his face as you ride out the last of the shuddering aftershocks on his fingers, pussy walls fluttering around them as you try and catch your breath.

You can feel Joel recoiling from between your thighs. You can hear the sound of him undoing his belt and then it clattering to the floor. You use your weak arms to push yourself up the length of the bed, head settling in the pile of pillows at the top. You turn your face to Tommy and gasp, hunger igniting in your belly at what you see. Somewhere in the middle of Joel shattering your world between your thighs, Tommy has shucked his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He’s using his fist to work himself in slow strokes at the sight of you.

You can feel Joel’s body clambering onto the mattress with you, settling between your thighs with his wide hips spreading your legs an obscene amount to accommodate him. He’s taking hold of your jaw in his hand, dragging your attention back to his face, “You’re fuckin’ me tonight pretty girl,” He growls, “Eyes on me.”

It isn’t a torturous job by any means. Joel is weathered, his skin holding the early sign of wrinkles at his eyes, beard starting to grey, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Especially when he’s looking at you with eyes that are begging to devour you. He sits back on his knees, taking hold of the belt that is keeping your robe shut across your body to undo the loose knot you’d tied in it. He’s dragging you up by a wrist just far enough to shuck the material from your shoulders, laying you back down to play with the straps of your nightdress.

“Can I undress you properly, darlin’?” He asks.

You gulp. Finally noticing that he’s stripped to just his boxers, outline of his incredibly hard cock visible when you let your eyes drag down that far.

“Go on baby,” Tommy encourages from across the room, “Let him see how beautiful you are.”

Your eyes are back to holding court with Joel’s own and you nod. He’s pulling you up by the wrist again, sitting you up so he can drag that final bit of material off your body. You lie back down and watch as his eyes drag over every single inch of your skin.

“Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.”

He’s got those wide palms dragging down the curves of your sides, holding you in place to just watch you for a second before he’s hooking his thumbs into his underwear and dragging them down his thighs, freeing his cock. He’s fisting himself a few times before he hooks your knees over his arms and slides himself into your waiting cunt.

It’s all you can do to let out a high-pitched moan at the intrusion, but fuck he feels good. You look up at his face, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he stills inside you once he’d buried in you to the hilt.

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” He groans as he pulls himself almost all the way out before starting the long, torturous thrust back inside you, “So fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

“Fuck Joel,” You throw your head back into the pillow, “Feel so good inside me.”

He’s picking up the pace now, thrusting into you in earnest now. The angle he’s got you folded into means his cock in brushing that fucking spot inside you that is driving you crazy, raising goosebumps and setting you on fire, drawing high-pitched whines from your throat whenever he finds it.

“Touch yourself baby,” You hear Tommy’s throaty request, you don’t dare look at him for fear of the sight of him finishing you off, “Joel’s gonna want you to come on his cock, so show him what a good girl you can be.”

Joel is already circling your wrist with his hand, dragging your fingers to your pussy as he watches where his cock disappears inside you. Your own movements are sloppy but the slick that Joel’s mouth has dragged from you make the movement of circles on your own engorged and sensitive clit easy. It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you, clenching your pussy around Joel’s hard cock which hasn’t let up for a single second since he started pounding into you.

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty, Tommy,” Joel’s voice is low and husky above you, almost desperately so, “So fuckin’ pretty when she comes like that.”

“Don’t I know it, brother.” You hear his strangled reply.

Joel is all of a sudden flipping you on the bed, your legs straddling his hips, palms planted on his chest to steady yourself.

“Take what you want darlin’,” He’s groaning, “Ride my cock and knock yourself up.”

You do just that, grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his cock with your fingers digging halfmoon shapes into the meat of his chest as you lean forward, bouncing on his cock in earnest.

His palms are gripping the globes of your ass, knees coming up to rest on your bare skin as he starts fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts halfway. The sounds of your skin slapping together is obscene but oh so delicious.

“You like when my brother fucks you like that?” Tommy’s deep voice draws your attention to him, he’s still got his cock in his hand but he’s thrusting up into it and you can tell just by the look on his face that he’s close.

You look him dead in the eyes, breathy moan falling from your lips when you say, “I fucking love it, Tommy.”

It all happens at once. Tommy is moaning and you can see him start to spill across his hand. Then Joel is gripping your hips, stilling your movements as you feel him start to come inside you, filling you up with his cum, your name falling from his mouth with a tangle of expletives built in for good measure.

“Fuckin’ take it, pretty girl.” Joel is growling from beneath you, pushing his cock impossibly deep inside you like he’s begging your pussy to soak it all up, to get it to take.

The room is silent save for the sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath. You collapse, somewhat unceremoniously off Joel’s body and onto the mattress, placing an arm over your eyes to try and calm yourself down. Why the fuck was that so hot? Is all you can think. You’re only semi-aware of him shifting and gathering his things, only semi-aware of Tommy cleaning his hand off on his jeans to re-dress himself. You’re almost asleep when you feel the press of a kiss to your cheek, opening your eyes to find it was in fact Joel who did it, thumb running soothing circles across the skin of your hip.

“Thank you.” You say meekly, reaching up to cup his face in your palm.

“My pleasure, darlin’,” He smiles down at you, “I hope it helps.”

Then he’s gone, following Tommy out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. You can, once again hear their muted voices, but this time, instead of setting you on edge, it lulls you to sleep. By the time Tommy comes back, climbs into bed and spoons you from behind, you’re almost asleep.

“Did so fuckin’ good for me baby,” He murmurs into your ear, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Through the haze of sleep taking over you, you manage to mumble out, “Hope it works.”

He chuckles, his body shaking your own where he has you wrapped in his embrace, “Me too baby, me too.”

Within minutes you’re asleep. So asleep that you don’t feel his hand resting above your womb, silently praying that sooner, rather than later, he’s going to start feeling you swell there. Silently thanking the good lord for giving him such an understanding brother and a girl willing to do anything for him.

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retro-rezz-the-est · 10 months

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Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

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

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

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

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

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

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

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

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

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

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not anymore.

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

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

But the two in the ring just smile.

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

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

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

You have to find him, and fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs you.

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

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

“Roman, wait-”

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

Not now.

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

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

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

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

“Wise man…”

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

“Leave us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For what, you wonder?

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

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

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

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

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

“I said, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need you, baby, please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, think again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you, things are…different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

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

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

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

He just can’t.

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

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

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

Please don’t leave me.

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

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

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

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

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

A good nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

That’s a fucking promise.

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

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

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

Oh, fuck…

Tag List:

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

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

#rezz writes some bullshit #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x reader smut #roman reigns x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader smut #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #oh my god...rezzy actually posting a fic??? with ACTUAL smut in it???? color me gooped and gagged and shocked to shit lmao #but please enjoy this y'all i spent way too much time overthinking this XD

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sugar-omi · 7 months

Text

I THINK I FINALLY GOT IT TO WORK.... jfc anywayz this is nasty n i love it. so fellow monster freaks, this is for you my loves!!!! <333

DAY FOUR — MONSTER FUCKING

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, fem/afab reader, dub-con just bc y'all are so outta it, (mentioned/implied) dom/sub space, mermaid!cove x human!reader, soft to mean dom cove, biting, scratching, stomach bulging, knotting ment, ignore the kinda scary mer pregnancy bit okay

synopsis : cove finally lets you spend his heat with him, and your mermaid boyfriend is so much different than you had thought...

maybe you should have listened to cove when he said humans couldn't handle a mermaids heat. at least not without fighting for their life.

mermaids are naturally rough during their heats, biting and fighting for dominance over the other.. not to mention the sheer size of them.

cove is bigger than the average merman, "standing" at 12 feet tall.

which is something you should have factored in along with the sharp teeth and claws. because now, you're in a isolated underwater cove, with a horny, giant mermaid who is currently rearranging your guts.

"cove-!" you cry, pushing against his chest. it's fruitless, and you're just asking for more assertiveness, more pain

"stay still." cove growls, his sharp eyes striking through you, urging you to stay still and take it. you whine, your eyes rolling back. you know cove is trying to be gentle, but his mind is clouded.

"i-i can't take more!" you whimper. even though he's proportional for a merman of his size, it's too much for you. you couldn't possibly take all of his dick. "it won't fit-" you drawl, the words straining through gritted teeth.

cove kisses your cheek, licking your tears. "it's okay, it's okay..." he comforts, panting from the effort to control himself. "you can take it... i've prepared you for this.."

you whine when he moves again, the prominent ridges on the underside of his dick stretching you open.

he really did try to prepare you, gifting you a toy roughly the size of his dick and some smaller ones to work up to his size. cove even ate you out beforehand, his fingers slowly stretching you open and making sure you would come out as unscathed as possible.

cove kisses you, swallowing your whines and moans and trading it for his long tapered tongue.

you kiss back, letting cove consume your senses and take away all your burdens.

bitten, bruised, and sore, it's so worth it. to be connected with cove on this level.. it's maddening.

"are.. you okay?" cove pants into your ear, his fingers flexing around your waist as he tries to keep restraint.

you swallow, drool pooling in your mouth. "yes, yes, please move…"

cove fixes his grip on your body to move you the way he wants, his hands are so big they easily wrap around your waist and the heat coming from cove makes you feel like you're burning…

"ah-!" you drape yourself over cove. wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he's moving your body so easily..

you know you're much smaller than cove, so his strength shouldn't be a surprise. but the way he's moving your body up and down on his cock like you're his personal cock sleeve drives you crazy.

"covee~" you drawl, your eyes rolling back. fuck you're losing your mind.

every part of your body and mind is consumed with pleasure, any thoughts you have melt and reform to think about nothing but cove and his dick.

cove's nails dig into your skin, pearls of blood coming to the surface and washing away with the movements of your hips.

the scratches should hurt, cove's claws aren't for decoration afterall, but it seems that medicine cove gave you helps with the pain you are sure to endure during his heat.

cove groans, "fuck.. you're so tight…"

you pang, blinking away your fucked out haze. "you're… you're just too- ohh fuck- too big!"

cove's laugh is cut off by your twitching cunt tightening around him, "jesus christ, y/n… stop tightening up.." cove growls.

you whine, dragging your nails down cove's scaled shoulders. "i'm-i'm trying.." you whine, "it feels so good."

cove drags his teeth over the exposed column of your throat. his lips trail down to your shoulder, and with much care that most mermaids wouldn't afford, he bites down hard enough to leave evidence of his teeth, and he runs his tongue over it soothingly.

you huff, squirming in cove's hold. "please, please cove! faster!"

cove peeks at you, stopping his assault on your neck and collarbone. "...can you handle it?"

you huff irritably, rolling your eyes. "i'm taking your dick right now aren't i? i'm not going to break."

cove glares, "it took you a week to get up to the toy that was only 2nd to my true size, you shook and cried that you couldn't take it."

his voice is booming, and maybe it should scare you, but something about cove reminding you how you pathetically ran to him to help you with the toy… it turns you on.

"you've trained your pathetic human cunt to take my dick and you still cried that it wouldn't fit." cove stares down at you, his height and gaze making you still and a fire is burning in your stomach.

"if i give you more than you can take, you'll break. aren't you worried about me hurting you?" cove inquires and his gaze is a mix of intrigue and confusion at your eager negative shake of your head.

"as if, you can't hurt a fly." you're testing him, he's already holding back for you and yet you can't help but want to push him over the edge…

cove growls, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest and his gills flare.

he doesn't say anything else, you've said enough after all and if it's more you want, it's more you get.

cove hugs you, one arm around your back and the other under your butt, and uses the power of his lower body to thrust up into you.

you yell, your nails scratching down his scales and to his back, surely scratching off skin if cove's hiss is anything to go by.

with the change of pace, the last couple inches of cove's dick forces itself into you. you can't even catch your breath since with every rearing of his hips, the knot at the base of his dick pop in-and-out of you.

"cove!" you slap his shoulder, shaking at the stimulation.

cove nips at your shoulder and chest, leaving small marks where he pleases. "you wanted more. don't blame me if you end up becoming my pathetic cock sleeve."

you whine, drool slipping past the corner of your lips.

he's really fucking you dumb, leaving you no choice but to think about nothing but his dick.

his fat tip keeps bumping against your cervix, hitting that lovely spot between your womb and your gummy walls.

"ah! ohh fuck!" you cry, cove has taken your nipple in his mouth, swirling his long tongue around the bud and teasing it with his teeth, your other breast in his hands, rolling the bud between his fingers.

you whimper and moan, shaking your hips in return. the sensation is so good, especially since he's keeping you from running with his arm around your waist, forcing you to take the pleasure he's giving you.

as if you would want to run anyway. you've become way too addicted to this now.

sure you and cove have been intimate before, but this is the most you've ever taken of his ridiculously large mer dick and this is the roughest he's ever been with you.

usually he’s the one holding your hips to keep you from sinking any further on his length. but now he's fucking you with reckless abandon, giving into your pleas after all this time…

it doesn't take much to succumb to the pleasure that you've been craving this whole time.

“cove!” you cry, your legs shaking.”i’m gonna, i’m gonna make a mess!”

cove growls, picking up pace, purposefully angling his tip to slam against your g-spot.

a couple solid thrusts is all it takes to have you shaking, your legs wrapped around cove as you squirt.

you're seeing white, your legs shaking and toes curling. you can barely process the groan that comes deep from cove's throat because of your convulsing cunt, you're wrapped so tightly around him that his cock drags against your walls when he tries to pull back.

you whine and shake, feeling sensitive after such an intention orgasm.

"cove…" you weakly call, pulling yourself up by his shoulders to try and get off his dick, that spongy spot inside your walls too tender from the abuse.

"don't pull away from me.." cove grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter.

you pant, blinking and trying to keep consciousness.

you barely register that you're slipping into sub space, you've completely surrendered yourself to cove and obediently swallow the pearls he presses to your lips.

"mm, what.. what was that?" you ask, swallowing several times at the after taste. you know one of them was for breathing underwater, but you've never seen the other before..

"it's a contraceptive."

in this position you feel really small to cove, his body leaning over yours, completely trapping you between him and his nest.

combine that with his feral grin and sharp eyes… you're stuck and absolutely hypnotized.

"merfolk are very fertile, remember?" cove leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice deep and it penetrates your soul.

"we have a lot left to do before i impregnate you with my seed."

you shiver, looking at him with wide eyes. the thought doesn't terrify you, although maybe it should with what you know…

most humans don't survive it. and that's typically because they're not mated… something about DNA and special pheromones to relax and aid you in pregnancy and birth.

cove kisses your cheek, grinding his the tip of his dick near your womb. "don't worry… i know hoe to make it easier, don't be scared."

you nod mindlessly, trusting him.

"fuck!" you curse, the power of cove's thrust nearly burying you in his nest.

you cling onto his shoulders for dear life, your leg kicking out, allowing him to go even deeper.

"cove!"

"shhh, it's okay. just a bit more.." cove soothes, "i'm gonna cum soon…"

he groans, removing himself from your thoroughly marred neck to hold your legs and spreading them open, allowing him to piston into your weeping cunt.

you howl, throwing your head back and fisting the organized mess of blankets and materials of cove's nest, arching your back.

the movement just forces his dick deeper inside you, making you whine loudly.

you flip over, although not without much shaking, whimpering, and cove's nails digging into your skin.

although now that you've made it onto your stomach, weakly trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure, cove tugs your hips back and easily manhandled you.

he presses you against his chest with his hand, the other on your stomach, which he brings something interesting to your attention…

"fuck.. you see that?"

it takes you a minute to respond, too long because cove grabs you by your chin and tilts your head down, and shows you your stomach.

you moan lowly at the sight.

with every deep thrust you can see cove's dick protrude from your stomach, popping up right below your belly button.

cove lifts your head back up, his hand under your jaw, and he can't help but laugh at the tears running down your face.

"look at you, you've become a brainless slut."

you moan at cove's degrading comment. fuck you didn't think he had it in you but he does and you are losing it.

"maybe i'll keep you to myself forever. merfolk already have a bad reputation because of sirens.." cove growls in your ear, "wanna be my cute lil' cock sleeve, y/n?"

all you can do is beg and squirm for more.

"please.." you whimper, feeling cove's knot catching on your entrance. you want to be filled, you need him to cum inside..

cove laughs at your plea and kisses your lips, grinning a sharp toothed, wolfish smirk. "good girl, i'll take care of you…"

#sugar omi kinktober #sugar-omi kinktober #kinktober #olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #smut #cove holden smut #our life cove #cove holden x mc #cove holden x reader smut #our life smut

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ozarkthedog · 4 months

Note

Ozzie, I know you don’t write for that man anymore, but I just wanted to say that last night I dreamed of your beer bottle fic with Joel and Tommy. They were making me take turns. It was so hot. My head is still spinning 😵‍💫 🥵

👀 this is new my fav thot 😮‍💨 — jfc, I need a moment.

— 18+ — mdni — j.m x f!reader x t.m — beer bottle insertion — wc: 376

“Thats’a good girl. Sit down nice n' pretty on it.” Joel says while he feeds you his cock. Both sets of lips stretching wide as you simultaneously sit down on the bottle and swallow his thick girth.

“She doin’ what I told her?” Joel grunts to the man that’s crouched behind you holding the bottle.

“Sure is. Takin’ every inch she can fit.” Tommy smirks while rubbing his knuckles against your soaked, taut lips.

He holds the bottle steady while you fuck yourself on the glass, watching as your slick drips into the liquor and down the sides covering the label in white.

“You like being our plaything?” Joel grunts before bottoming out, thrusting his length as far as it'll go. His hands a weighty crown keeping you still as your body twitches from lack of air and obscene pleasure. “Like it when we tear you apart together?”

You shudder and ride the bottle as safely and steadily as you can. Tommy teases your clit with an unyielding touch, rolling and pitching, and dragging you to the edge despite your hands digging into his brother's jeans.

“Come on, give us somethin' sweet to drink.” One of the men croons. It sounded like Tommy but with the way you were floating it could’ve been Joel. Your spine twists and your muscles lock. You come with a garbled mess of noises all shunted by Joel cock as he fills your mouth, forcing you to swallow his seed.

Tommy helps you off the bottle and as you catch your breath you watch as he licks the sides of the bottle clean.

He moans as he tips the bottle and drinks down the mixed liquid. “Sure as hell the best beer I’ve ever tasted.” His lips glisten with white as he passes the bottle to Joel.

The older man takes a long swig. Eyes closed, he swishes the heady liquid over his tongue really tasting it before swallowing with a dark groan.

His eyes open in a flash, all consuming and wild. His half hard cock still hangs from his unzipped jeans. He tips his head toward the box of beer bottles that sits in the corner of the room and smacks your ass. “Drag that box over 'ere. I'm fuckin' thirsty.”

#joel miller #tommy miller #pedro pascal #Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller #gabriel luna #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader

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ervotica · 4 months

Note

cato comforting u while your crying and then cradling you his big ass arms (i am a SLUT for men with big biceps)

warnings; r is sad, cato is peak boyfriend, ARMS (they're a warning)

a/n; on my mf KNEES for this man, vikings is on my watch list next bc he's just too fine jfc. sorry this got buried in my inbox lovely! i hope you enjoy though <3 (also this gif??? im fucking sweating)

"Who've I gotta kill?"

You stifle a gasp with the back of your hand, glossy eyes snapping up to meet the furious stare of your boyfriend. The colour bleeds from his knuckles, flexing at his sides as he watches the way you hiccup and coil in on yourself to try and conceal the steady flow of tears making their way down your cheeks. Grass tickles at your bare legs where you shuffle on your bum to face him.

"'s nothing, Cato. I'm okay." You nod vehemently, as if trying to convince yourself; he crouches, sitting back on his heels to cradle the side of your neck with thick digits. Your pulse thrums under his touch.

"Baby," he murmurs; it's soft the way he speaks to you, a jarring juxtaposition to the sharp bite of his usual tone. "What's goin' on?"

"I don't wanna talk 'bout it right now," you sniff, and Cato catches the tears that spring to the surface again, tickling at the swollen rims of your eyes. Your head ducks and the palm of his hand applies a firm pressure to the crown of your skull as he manoeuvres, and thick thighs come to rest either side of your own, chest crowding against your back.

You tip back to lean against the warm expanse of his chest and his arms come up to cage you in; heavily muscled biceps brace around your protruding collarbones when he smears a kiss across the ridge of your temple.

Tucking your head in the crook of his elbow, your own arms come up to twine around his upper arm, head rolling until you're gazing up at him through sticky, wet lashes. The crease in his brow dissipates, and dimples crater at the centre of his cheeks under your affectionate observance.

"Whatcha lookin' at, short stuff?" he teases, thumb squishing the pudgy flesh of your bottom lip.

"Just you," you purr, voice waning through the thick lump in your throat. Cato traces the column, pressing into the dimple beneath your chin to rub a tight circle there. "Just love you. I don't deserve you."

"Who told you that? 's that what the tears are about, huh?" Lips drag downward over your jaw while he waits for an answer, wet half moons glistening in the wake of his fervent touch.

"Just what people say about me. When I was out earlier..." You falter, concealing your face in the groove of his armpit. "Some of the other girls were laughing. At me." You hiccup into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, neck bending awkwardly when he tucks you in tighter, arms a vice around your top half. "They say you're too good for me. That they don't know why you're wastin' your time."

"You think it's true?" he asks.

"I-I don't know. I think you could do better than me."

His chin digs into the juncture of your neck when you lift your head, heavy eyelashes kissing at the corners and trailing dampness across Cato's cheek.

"I love you. Don't want anyone else, my girl."

You surge forward, twisting the top half of your body to wrap around him like a vine; he stays steadfast, rigid as you clamber up and into his lap on tired limbs. Your fingers settle at the nape of his neck, tangled in short, blond hair.

His hands squeeze at the fat of your hips, drawing you closer still, lips pressed to the shell of your ear.

"You're mine, okay? My girl forever."

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 9 months

Text

I See You

This fic will fulfill the F/M square in my @spnkinkevents bingo card:

Since F/M is not a kink in itself, I've added orgasm denial as the kink. 😊

Summary: His eyes won't leave her body, he needs to see her pleasure.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Complete Smut. Definitely Porn w/o Plot, Fingering, Oral (f receiving), unprotected PinV sex, orgasm denial, slight dom/sub vibes (sub!reader), Fluff if you blink.

Pairings: Your choice: Dean x f!reader, or Jensen x f!reader, or Beau x f!reader, or Ben x f!reader (a slightly softer version of Ben, anyway.)

Word Count: 998

A/N: So this just leaked out of my horndog brain this evening. I blame the fact that I just recently rewatched the Dean and Anna scene in Heaven and Hell again. And just...JFC! The way he watches her never fails to make me pant and swoon! Hope you enjoy! 😁

The beautiful dividers both below and at the bottom were created by @talesmaniac89

His hands and mouth are heaven. His lips slide across your skin like warm silk. His tongue creates patterns you can feel branded into you. His touch is slow, his hands rough as they drag over you and cause shivers.

He doesn't look away from you. No matter how many times you cry out and close your eyes in blissful ecstasy, when they pop open again, his beautiful emerald gaze is still on you, still watching your pleasure, measuring it, increasing it.

As he sinks his mouth into the dripping wet folds of your body, he continues to watch you. His eyes travel up the length of your body, noticing every quiver of your muscles and repeating the things he does with his tongue every time he sees it make you shake.

Two fingers push slowly into your body; they're thick and they fill you up, leave you clenching them tight, as you pant out your pleas for more.

"Please…? Please!" It's a hoarse whisper of need ripped out of your throat by his skill, patience, and relentless pursuit of your pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his plump, luscious lips, making you scream and plunge your hands into his hair, tugging hard.

"Please? I need…"

But you see him shake his head, and his deep voice rumbles over you. "Not until I say, Princess."

You tighten your thighs around his ears, trying to get control of yourself, but also trying to create more friction. Showing no mercy, he pushes your thighs back open and flicks the tip of his tongue over your clit.

He watches the way you bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming, and he pulls back.

"Don't do that, baby." His fingers curl perfectly inside you, pressing against your sweet spot. "Give me all your screams."

He's in total control of your body, and gets his wish quickly as screams of passion erupt from your throat. But still he will not let you come, and still he watches you.

You're a writhing, drenched mess beneath him. You scratch at his broad shoulders, desperate and flailing, head tossing back and forth on the pillow.

"I can't, please, I can't hold back anymore, please, please?" You beg as you try to pull back from his hot, demanding mouth, seeking a reprieve.

But his vastly superior strength keeps you right where he wants you as he continues to torture your flesh with aching pleasure. He watches you beg, heat sparking even more in his jewel-like eyes.

"I said no."

His forceful growl sinks deep into your cunt, making your belly clench and bringing your climax tantalizingly closer.

He swipes his wide tongue up through your folds, before sinking it deep inside your hole. You scream out again and feel your walls begin to quiver, always a prelude to your climax. You know you're seconds away from crashing; you can't hold back the tidal waves of pleasure any longer.

He knows it too, and pulls back from you at the last moment, leaving you achingly empty and painfully unfulfilled.

His big hands hold you wide open, so you can't manage any friction or pressure to push yourself over the edge, so your hips buck uselessly against empty air.

Your need makes tears roll down your cheeks, and that's what does him in. He sees the tears and moves back up your body. He kisses away the droplets, before pressing his lips against yours, pushing your own tangy flavor into your mouth with his tongue.

As he pulls back from the kiss, your eyes stay closed, and your breathing is ragged; your body is thrumming, every muscle tense and needy.

"Open your eyes." He orders and you follow immediately looking up into his perfect face, as his expression softens.

His fingers slide into you as he captures your gaze. "Okay, baby. Let go."

With his words your body contorts and spasms with your long-awaited release. Waves and waves of endless, pure, pleasure crash over you.

You're gushing onto his cock as he slips inside you and groans at the way your climaxing body grips him tight. He fills you so instantly, so completely, that your next few orgasms hit automatically one after the other. You finally give up trying to maintain eye contact, and simply crash your eyelids down and allow the exquisite pressure and stretch of his massive cock to keep you coming over and over.

Every time your eyelids flutter open though, it's to see him still staring at you, into you. He watches for every small movement in your face, every barely noticeable gasp, watches every sign your body gives him as he rides you long and hard, wringing every ounce of pleasure and ecstasy from you before he finally slams himself home hard, throwing his head back and letting out a shout of his own before falling beside you on the bed.

It's your turn to watch him now, shifting to your side to admire him as he comes down. The sweat that trickles down from his temple and shines beautifully across the broad muscles of his torso, gilds him so that he glows. His chest heaves and his breath comes fast through his puffy, pink lips.

Eventually he turns his head towards you and you kiss those swollen lips, and he watches you now with love in his magnificent green eyes.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." He says quietly, lifting a hand to push your sweaty hair back from your forehead.

You scoff a little, never good at compliments. But he cups your cheek and makes you look him in the eye.

"Hey," he says with conviction, "I see you, Y/N. I see you. And what I see is everything I've ever wanted."

With your heart full and your body and mind completely exhausted all you can do is snuggle into his side and place a kiss to his chest, only just managing to mumble back how much you love him.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen x reader #dean winchester smut #jensen ackles smut #beau x reader #soldier boy x reader #ben x reader #beau arlen smut #soldier boy smut #spnkinkevents

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msmarvelouswinchester · 5 months

Text

If We Love Again

Summary: Whatever problems we had back then don’t exist anymore. It’s why we have this second chance, and we can’t throw it away. -Michelle Maddow

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

WC: 1942

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Post-canon where DEAN IS ALIVE, kinda sappy, body-shaming (not by the boys), hugs and kisses

Square Filled: Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong ( @taylorswiftbingo )

A/N: Alright. Alright. Hello you people! Jfc, how long has it been? A lot of things happened (personal matters and fandom problems too) so I took a break. Kind of gave up writing for a bit. Then two boys - Alex and Henry (RWRB fandom, I'm looking at you) got me back to writing! And of course I had to write for my baby, Dean Winchester!

And I've also lost my taglist. So sorry for not tagging anyone in this.

Completely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“What’re you doing here?” The usual routine of the bunker had been thrown off-kilter when Y/N had appeared, looking…frazzled. Maybe a tad smile but her eyes shone with unshed tears. And she was drenched to the bones and panting like she had run a mile to get to the bunker. The man welcomed her inside, saying, “Come in first, you are fucking wet.”

The words slipped and the man’s eyes widened, expecting a snobbish remark from her about the word and its placement in the sentence but soon enough, he frowned because Y/N didn't comment on the…apparent opportunity of turning the entire conversation inappropriate. Like she always did. But today, she wordlessly accepted the man’s gratuitous welcome and headed inside the old establishment.

Once at the end of the stairs, she said, rather whispered, “Hey Dean. Can you do me a favour? I need a hug.” If Dean didn't know what heaven looked like, he would have guessed he had ascended to heaven at Y/N’s request.

Dean, who had sprinted down the steps, looked at her and nodded, opening his arms. Y/N stepped into the hug and wrapped her arms around his torso, hands finding the nape of his neck. Dean’s hands had also instantly found their shelter around her body. They stayed in the position for a while. Y/N inhaled deeply quite a few times. The unforgettable scent of cinnamon and gunpowder hitting her and she let the tears fall as she let her guard down for the first time that night and Dean’s hold around her tightened. The sobs that left her, wrecked his heart. Each wail was like a dagger to his chest. He hated seeing her sad. He rested his chin on the top of her head, the familiar smell of her shampoo gave him whiplash as the memories of…everything queued up inside his head. But he still didn't know what had prompted her to show up at her place. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you look at me? I need you to look at me,” Dean murmured, “please.”

His voice washed over her and the sobbing turned into sniffles. She sniffled against the now wet, snot-covered spot on Dean’s tshirt before her red-rimmed, puffy eyes found his worried green ones. “‘M sorry,” she whimpered.

“Hey, shh, what're you sorry for? For ruining my shirt? Oh, I'll just bribe Sammy to do the laundry,” Dean grinned but the worry never left his eyes.

“I just—Dean, I'm sorry for…s-showing up tonight unannounced…I shouldn't have…what was I even thinkin’? Dean, I’ll—uh…see myself out.” Y/N said, and fidgeted in Dean’s grip but he was reluctant to let go. Not when she had just shown up a few minutes ago and broke down in his arms.

Dean said, “Stop, Y/N. Stop. It's alright. That's what best friends are for.” Nope, not letting you go this time.

“But…” Did you forget the part where we dated and broke up and vowed to never see each other again because it would break our hearts even more?

“No buts,” Dean said, as if he could read the thoughts in her head, “Whatever happened…happened. You were my best friend and you still are. If you need me, in a heartbeat, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?” He glanced up, Jack if this is your doin’ because I pretty much dreamed about second chances last night then thanks, buddy.

Y/N nodded.

“Now let's go sit down. I'm gonna go find Sam and let him know you're here. And then we can go and kick some asses.” Dean gently guided her to his room in the bunker and sat her down on his bed, asking if she needed anything to drink, water or beer or anything to eat, knowing all they had was pie and a greasy two-days old burger in the freezer. They really needed to stock up their fridge more now they have started to live normal lives.

Y/N, though just asked for water.

Dean winked and said he would be back in a minute. And he was, with Sam in tow who had scooped her up in a giant hug. Oh, she had missed them.

“Hi, Sam. You look…different.” Y/N giggled at Sam in his formal clothes instead of the layers of plaid she was used to seeing on him. She had heard that the Winchesters had retired from hunting but seeing them bask in their post-retirement glory was astonishing.

“Yeah, had a makeover sorta, got myself a job and everything—”

“And a girlfriend,” Dean wiggled his brows and his brother blushed furiously. In between the conversation, Dean had handed Y/N a glass of water and sat down beside her on the bed.

She sipped on the water and hummed thoughtfully, “Who would have thought? Our little Sammy, all grown up!”

And for the first since her alarmingly sudden visit to the bunker, Y/N smiled.

“Oh shut up. Enough about me. Dean said something to me about kicking someone's asses. Do we have to bring out our hunting gear?” Y/N’s eyes widened at the question.

“No! Jesus, no guns. And no violence.” She warned the Winchesters.

“Can’t promise on the violence part, sweetheart!” Dean smirked. “So what happened?”

“Honestly. I think I'm good. It was a moment of…sadness but I'm oka—”

Dean cut her off, saying, “Y/N you were wailing. That was not nothing. Come on, tell us, we swear we'll be good.”

Y/N hesitated and Sam decided to put her out of her misery, “Whatever Dean says, if you don't feel comfortable in telling us. Don't tell.”

“Oh…” Dean sighed, “Yeah, I…I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You seriously don't have to tell us, if you're not up for it.”

“It's just not that,” she swallowed hard. It should be easy to tell them, right? They were her best friends. She took a deep breath and said, “The guy, I am…or rather was dating—” She felt Dean tense up beside her and Sam side-eyed his brother but she continued “-well, he was an asshole. A dickhead. A fucking son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “That's quite a description.”

“Yeah. So I applied for this job in NYC and well…I got it—” her heart soared in her chest as she watched the brothers’ faces split into a huge grin “-but this moron of my ex-boyfriend decided to throw my insecurities to my face because he didn't want me to go to NYC.”

Now looking back, Y/N didn't know why she was sad. She was angry. No, she was pissed because how dare a pathetic little man order her around about whether or not she should work in New York. “He was worried that I wasn't too pretty for the NYC girls, that I was too soft to survive in a big city like New York—”

This time Dean chuckled. Because Y/N wasn't soft, she was a hunter. Born into a hunter family only to give it all up because she wanted a quieter life. But she knew how to fight, how to wield a gun. And she was pretty. Too pretty and even after four years of breaking up, Dean’s heart still skipped a beat when she called his name, looked at his face and he was still enamoured by her very existence.

“So I told him that I would leave his sorry ass,” Y/N’s lips trembled, “and he said it was going to be the best thing because I wasn't worth enough for him to fight for because I…I am ‘too much’ and I…I don't put an effort into being the woman a man wants, no…needs. And in that moment, I got so sad, I needed to see you. Because I missed you guys so much. I missed this where no one judged me or at least didn't use to until…well, I…yeah. So, this is how I showed up here.”

“You're always welcome here, Y/N. And I'm sorry, things haven't been…good for a few years but don't think for a second we will judge you or not let you back into our lives,” Dean’s hands had snaked back around her waist, pulling her closer while she continued, “Well, he was kinda right. Don't you think? I talk too much. Sometimes I go on a ramble. I don't watch my diet—”

“That son of a bitch body-shamed you?” Dean was seething.

“Yeah. And he said, I was too much of a work to stay with. I have always been told that I'm too much of a work but it still hurts—”

Dean said, “Well the guy is an idiot. You aren't too much of a work, sweetheart.”

Y/N, this ain't gonna work. You want me. I want you but you don't want this hunting life while THIS hunting is my life. This relationship is going to be so much of a work and with Cain on the loose, I don't think I can put that much effort in this. Y/N gave Dean a soft smile, “I don't want to bring up old memories but you also said that, pretty much four years back.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Dean?”

“W-I? I was under the influence of the mark, Y/N and you knew it. I pushed away so many people. Letting you go was my biggest mistake. And I regret it because I still fucking love yo—” Dean’s mouth snapped shut.

And for the second time, Sam exclaimed, “What the hell, Dean?”

“Yo–love…what?” Y/N whispered.

Dean turned towards his brother, “Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Sam quickly stepped out of the room.

“Y/N. Letting you go was my biggest mistake and never calling you up was my biggest regret. I should have called because I still need you. And now I have this life. You know I start a new job next week? It's a construction but yeah. And it got me thinkin’ about you. Yeah. I was thinking how I fucked us over and never got to tell you the truth. I never got over us, you. I…I never wanted you to go—”

“I remember very clearly you throwing me out of the bunker and telling me never to contact you again. You know what, showing up tonight was my bigges—”

“Son of a bitch, I can't believe I'm fucking doin’ this,” Dean murmured.

“Wha–” The rest of the question turned into a squeak and Dean’s lips crashed into her. And then the thoughts crashed into him. Fuck.

Dean immediately jumped back from her. “I'm so sor—”

“If you dare to say sorry for this, I am telling Sammy to shoot you in your dick, asshole,” Y/N panted, “Fucking come, kiss me, you moron!”

“You sure? You just had a breakup and…”

Y/N looked at Dean, “I know. But Dean, I had kept loving you all along and maybe by some, heaven’s grace—”

“Jack’s grace.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“God. Well, new God. Jack had been living with us…its a long story for another time.”

“Yeah so, by Jack’s grace, maybe it's my second chance at being with you. Loving you.” Dean’s breath hitched at her words, “Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong.”

So he walked up to her, and pulled her into a loving kiss. It was soft, eager and…just like old times.

They separated but their foreheads touched as they panted for air. “Second chance?” Dean asked

Y/N nodded, “Second chance.”

He smiled, “This time I'll leave no stones unturned to make this work. Because Y/N, sweetheart, you are worth everything.”

Oh boy, I'm kinda rusty XD

Let me know your thoughts! Comments are highly appreciated!

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean x y/n #sam winchester

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minimallyminnie · 11 months

Text

Gift for @enassbraid!!!

Summary- Rui just thinking about you. Wait…maybe a bit too much about you…

Gn Reader, Rui Kamishiro x Reader, Fluff, really fluffy, like little to no angst, no tw needed! Pre relationship, huge crush.

My Thoughts Shall Follow You.

Rui isn’t the type of person to really focus on someone who isn’t he friend

Unless it’s the lovely and amazing audience of course!

The people he really focuses on is his parents, Tsukasa, Nene, Emu, Mizuki and co.

But any random person who might judge him?

Nope! Not his problem!

…

But. He met you.

You for some reason, didn’t judge him in a bad and weird light.

Saying strange things to him…

“Nice robot Kamishiro! It looks great!”

Or just saying a nice greeting to him

He scanned you in case you had some sort of strange virus or something

Even analyzing your intentions

But, you genuinely wanted to get to know him…

What on earth is the matter with you?!

He’s the “weirdo kid”. Your reputation is going to get ruined like what happened to Tsukasa!

Well Tsukasa was already excluded like them but still! He’s weird!

But you continued to ask him questions, not crossing his boundaries

Even talking to Tsukasa and Nene!

What?!

One day, during lunch Tsukasa called you over to the rooftop to eat with them

Course you didn’t say no

He put up his guard in case you were messed up but even so, you just talked normally to the two of them

“Do you think I should play an evil villain in our next show to try something new or a shining hero?”

“Hmm…why don’t you try a play in the perspective of a villain to show their side of the story? That way, it’s something new but you have a clearer image of a misunderstood villain.”

“That’s actually a good idea! Rui! We must do this idea! As a shining star, if this is what our audience could like, our job is to make them smile!”

“What do you think Kamishiro?”

It’s actually a good idea…you have a real smile of curiosity on your face…

“Fufufu~ I think it’s a wonderful idea! Let’s talk it over with Nene and Emu later though. Wouldn’t want them to be surprised by this unexpected direction!”

Tsukasa high fives you and you look really happy at the fact that he liked your idea

When they go with the idea, he invites you along not expecting you to actually go

But you did, in the front row with Emu’s showtime pass (You two had met after one of the days at school, the girl happily tackling you to the ground as she thanks you for helping with the show.)

During the show, he sees how your eyes twinkle with delight and how amazed your expression looks

The flowing movements and dramatic shifts, the well written story…you just had to!

He thinks some people in the audience teared up at the villain’s backstory just like you

In the end, when they all bow to the audience, he can see you stand up and cheer for them

You go backstage and congratulate all of them, smiling at them with bouquets for all of them…

…Your smile is the only one he really focused on during the show, wasn’t it?

He trades numbers with you and let’s you call him by his first name afterwards

Your messages consist of many things

You: Rui, what did you do to Tsuka?

Cheshire: Well! I misheard him and heard him say “We should put on these ants.”

You: Next?

Cheshire: I gave him pants with decorative realistic ants on it!

In reality, he said we should put on these pants like the ones with cloud on the cuffs but he fainted when he saw those ant pants!

You: Is he okay?!

Cheshire: Yes! He got caught by Nenerobo!

You: Jfc Rui, you’re going to give him a heart attack one day 😰

Cheshire: New inventor of black plague?

You: NO

Cheshire: [|87

You: RUI NO, WE CAN’T BE IN A PANDEMIC BECAUSE OF A 17 YEAR OLD 😭😭😭

…

Yeah…chaotic.

But you always go with him, and slowly he lets down his walls carefully

And inside his walls crawls his thoughts of you.

Leaking into the main core of his heart.

Your shining expression when you see one of his shows.

Your attempt on trying to replicate one of their dances alongside Tsukasa.

Your kind words to him and his friends family.

The laugh you give that plays his heartstrings.

You’re engraved in his head 24/7.

He’s sitting in the stage taking his lunch break when all of a sudden he thinks of you. A startled look on his face.

“Rui, are you alright?”

“Tsukasa-Kun, is it normal for me to be thinking of the same someone randomly everyday?”

“Randomly? Hmm…I don’t think it’s randomly. You think of things that you like, you don’t randomly think of someone.”

Rui’s blushes just a tiny amount

“If this person…makes me feel weird…is it..?”

Tsukasa looks at him with surprise before grinning at him with genuine excitement

“I think you’re in love with that person then!”

And Rui’s eyes widens as he blushes, no words coming to his mind for once. He feels Tsukasa happily laugh as he pats Rui on his shoulder.

He’s in love.

He’s in love with you.

And oh, his smile is wider than ever as he classifies it.

Yhhshshsjsj just a random gift for my moot

Fluff and stuff for her favorite man

No, Tsukasa does not have a crush on Rui or Reader, don’t take it like that man. I’ll say something if he does 🤨

#minniemoots #mindlessclow #x reader #project sekai x reader #gn reader #rui kamishiro x reader #kamishiro rui x reader #fluff #project sekai fluff

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wontlasttwodays · 1 month

Text

Episode 4

Spoilers

Rick eyeing Michonne's thighs and ass. That man. Since day fucking one.

The way Michonne flicks her wrist when she says, "Poetry." Flick, swish, like her sword work. It was in the leaked scene and I've been emulating it for days.

The first time I burst into tears, Rick's trembling hand over the apartment door handle.

Rick having a panic attack connecting with Michonne again, JFC! I didn't cry the first time but because of the confession that comes later I ugly cried the second time. And I know we love Richonne smut but honestly that was so damn intimate and real I had to look away and give them some privacy.

"I can't live without you. Without you, I die."

"When I saw you I got so scared. I needed to get ahead of it."

"Knowing. Seeing that loss, I can't- I won't survive that Michonne. I just won't."

If Andrew Lincoln doesn't get acting awards for this series I will get violent. He triggered a goddamn heart condition.

When Michonne places that drawing of Carl in Rick's hand - I have only ever cried like that one other time in my life, over the cancer diagnosis of a real loved one. I could literally feel my heart breaking. It still hurts hours later. My wails didn't even make a sound, I was speechless with grief, breathless.

Danai Gurira, ladies and gentlemen. She protected her piece from AMC and brought us here.

"That's how we make it all make sense. We love on each other as hard as we can while we can."

The reason why this series is so hugely successful is because it improves the mothership, TWD. I don't even call all the themes this series weaves, the characterizations, "call backs." The series makes TWD better. It threads humanity and real love into all the silence and stoic dialogue. TWD's most character conflict season was S2 and it was quarantined from the rest of the series, they never let interpersonal and internal conflict get that externalized ever again. [Think about how terribly the scripts fumbled after Glenn died, because they were so eager to get to Negan.]

I've seen some commenters focus on how Michonne hasn't yet said "I love you" in this series. But look how Rick has said it and when he's said it in the series and in TWD, he uses the phrase as an apology. Michonne doesn't need to say it because her actions show it. Rick doesn't feel the need to say when his actions show it too.

Let's fucking go! The best couple ever written for television is on the same page again. They can do anything.

#richonne forever #sexy committed key #towl spoilers #twd towl ep4 #after waxing on about Carl whatifs last night I was not ready #I still don't forgive Gimple for that shit but I'm glad they haven't let the grief go.

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911-on-abc · 21 days

Note

(i'm that anon that wrote the buck being giddy and sore and having beard-burn all over his body thing) they get back to the station. buck puts his outer gear away after checking it over for tears, and walks up to the loft to get something to drink and another coffee. eddie and hen are talking about some playdate for denny and christopher for when karen and hen pick up their new foster and chimney is on the phone with maddie (something about the wedding), but buck only listens half-heartedly. his uniform is getting a little uncomfortable, it's chafing in the wrong places and he really doesn't want to be teased about puffy nipples thank you very much, and the cream tommy put on this morning has either been sweated off or has sunk into his skin. point being, he should probably apply some more cream to avoid even more chafing. it's not nearly as fun when it's caused by cotton rather than tommy's stubble, and the soothing kisses and teasing nips at his skin that are missing definitely have something to do with it. the soreness in his glutes is really nice though, and he kind of revels in it. it feels like after a really good workout. makes him feel accomplished. and the 3 orgasms in a little over 12 hours are definitely a benefit he doesn't get from going to the gym. jfc, he's at work he needs to reign in his thoughts. it's like he's a horny teenager discovering his own body for the first time. and yes, technically he is experiencing a lot of new things and firsts, and sure, maybe in a few months he'll brag about his stamina as a man in his 30's but now? now all of this is very inconvenient. "buck, you're okay?" shit. "yup, just sore and a little tired, haven't finished my coffee yet." "if you say so" hen's definitely suspicious. "buck, help me with brunch?" he could kiss bobby right now. well, no, EW, but he'll take the win and get away from prying eyes. bobby hands him veggies to cut up to put into the omelettes later, and buck grabs a knife and starts to cut up the mushrooms and the bell peppers. they work along in silence for a bit, and then bobby hands him a little post-it, whispers "we will never speak of this" and moves on to whisk the eggs like nothing. buck puts the post-it away, finishes cutting up the veggies, washes his hands and walks over to the bunk rooms. he kinda wants to check-in with tommy anyways. it's in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes, that he opens the note, turning scarlet immediately upon reading it. burt's bees mama soothing nipple cream and stokolan. i put some samples in your locker. stay safe. buck sends a pic of the note to tommy after applying the creams (they're a god-sent) with a simple "still jealous of the tight-knit family of the 118?"

anon I want to kiss you on the lips thank you for blessing me with this OHMYFUCKING GAWDDDDD (part 1 sent to @canonbibuck which you should read because hot DAMN 🥵)

#my post #911 abc #911 fox #911 #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #tommy kinard #911 fic #kind of??#no pressure at all but anon you are always welcome to send me more because WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW #also my inbox is forever open to all #send me some shit #because AHHHHHHHHHHH #I NEED TO SCREAM WITH Y'ALL!!!!

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lovelywoos · 2 years

Text

then came you | l.jh

genre: opposites attract au, highschool au, strangers to friends to lovers; fluff, comedy, angst!!

pairings: introverted!woozi x extroverted!reader (y/n uses they/them pronouns, but small scene where it mentions that y/n wears a skirt)

word count: 7.9k... jfc

warnings: swearing, a fight scene (not violent, more like a lot of swearing), and the fight scene has a lot of repetitive swear words because i don’t swear that much help :”)

description: in which you, the student council vice president, and lee jihoon, the quiet boy in the back of the class, fell in love despite your differences.

a/n - this was a lot of fun to write but near the end of editing it i was literally pushing SHOVING this out of my drafts to publish im so sick of it now. i rushed the editing so ... forgive me pls. ***fight scene is also inspired by the ep 3 of the kdrama “our beloved summer.”

one. meet cute

well, if it wasn’t for the consequences of your actions smacking you right on the face. yes, you should’ve studied more for that physics test. and studied harder. but also yes, student council duties needed attention. that group project for math was very time-consuming as well in your defense!

all those excuses and yet you still broke down.

sitting and hiding under a table in your school’s music room was becoming familiar. sometimes you wish you weren’t so outspoken or eager because now you’ve bitten off more than you can chew and are suffering the exhaustion from it.

but anyways, thank god for sound-proof music rooms! (your sniffles were beginning to inch their way towards sobs…)

“you okay?”

you jump at the sudden voice, head bumping against the desk with a heavy thud.

you blink up at the voice’s owner, furrowing your brows in annoyance.

the pale boy stammers in shock, struggling to put together his words. he heard you crying while entering the room, but seeing your puffy and bloodshot eyes made him wonder if he should’ve just made a 360 and left the room the first time he heard sniffles.

“s-sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” he stutters, rushing to you as you make your way out from under the desk. he quickly puts a hand under the desk, making sure you don’t bonk your head a second time.

you get up, quickly wiping your tears away from your face with the sleeves of your school uniform, the boy could get a good look at your face.

l/n y/n. student council’s vice president and class representative. he knew you very well. everyone did really. you were always all over the place talking to people, socializing, getting things done, and leading the way. you definitely didn’t know him though (he was right).

“it’s fine. don’t worry about it,” you assured, smiling slightly in an attempt to ease his obvious nerves.

you sigh before adding, “just don’t… tell anyone, yeah?” you read his name tag pinned on the chest of his uniform. lee jihoon.

“of course, don’t worry about that.”

“okay well, i have to get going now! see you around!” you send a friendly wave, walking for the door as jihoon interrupts you.

“wait! here, ta-take this,” he hands you a wrinkled napkin he had just pulled from his pockets.

when you stare at his outstretched hand, jihoon explains, “for your tears… although you’re not crying anymore, huh.”

you hold in your smile seeing the napkin most definitely from lunch that was just placed in your hand. so cute.

jihoon watches as you make your way out of the music room, thanking him, making him promise one last time to not tell anyone about today, and saying a goodbye.

so when you close the door behind you, he sighs with a gentle smile on his face. so cute.

two. i hate everyone but you

“lee jihoon!”

before becoming friends with lee jihoon, people should know that jihoon hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up.

and you haven’t seemed to pick up on these things yet after being friends for about… two months? but for you, it was bearable.

so whenever you march up to his desk, he doesn't complain.

“your group mates just told me how you haven’t attended any of the work meets they planned!” you sighed, pressing your lips together. “and take those damn earbuds out!”

“okay, okay. sorry,” jihoon leans back in his chair with tired eyes before explaining, “i’ve been doing my share of the work anyway, so why does it matter? i can’t be needed that much.”

you pout before sitting at the empty desk in front of him. you also notice how his eyes seem so focused on his hands all of a sudden.

you poke his forehead with your forefinger, making him look up to look at you with wide eyes.

“it’s just me, be honest,” you say in the gentlest tone jihoon’s ever heard from you.

he takes a moment to think before nodding. you smile and lean in, ready to hear his side of the story.

“they’re not the greatest people. i overhear them sometimes and they’re always gossiping. i don’t think i’d be able to stand being in a room with all of them talking for like two hours,” jihoon finally explains, but he’s taken aback as he sees your attentive and genuine expression.

he clears his throat and adds, “in conclusion, they give me a headache, and being with them for hours would drain my social battery for the day, no, week.”

jihoon forgets to mention that being around his group would be unbearable also because you were a common topic amongst their gossip. he remembers the day when one of his partners said you were such a teacher’s pet only for the sake of impressing the student council’s president, choi seungcheol.

he quite literally had to take a step outside before he said something he would regret because l/n y/n doing something for male validation? he would laugh in their faces if he had the courage.

“i see… it’s alright, i’ll see what i can do. don’t worry, jihoon! just focus on your part of the work and let me do the talking!” you grin, standing up abruptly.

jihoon just smiles up at you and nods, not surprised at how you were going to speak in his defense once again (this was becoming the new norm as you two became friends).

before turning to leave, you reach a hand out to ruffle his dark black hair, messing it all up. you quickly dash off, not letting jihoon scold you.

he hides his smile and growing blush as he reaches up to fix his hair.

jihoon still hates five things: people who touch him, annoying people, talkative people, being told what to do, and opening up. but if they come in the form of you, he doesn't seem to mind so much. especially if every time he reluctantly opens up, you always seem to understand him.

three. what was this feeling?

“i swear to god if i don’t beat her, she’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

jihoon was about to lose it. you were pacing back in forth in front of him. every time you had finally stopped moving or talking, he would place the sunscreen in your hand so you could apply some on your face yourself before your race. but every single time he did, you just gave him a look and shoved it right back into his hands, continuing your rant.

“she keeps going on and on about how the class representative should be good at everything including athletics and so sports day should be a breeze for me! why do class representatives have to go last in the relay? it’s so weird! i could be helping student council pass out waters right now or something like…”

your words fade away as his attention diverted to the couple a few feet down the bench from you two. the girl squeezed some sunscreen onto the back of her hand before applying it to her boyfriend’s face.

and to be honest, he couldn’t even remember who you were talking about anymore! yuna was it? or maybe yuri? yura??

so fuck it.

“i think she’s just jealous she’s in a lower class than me! because what other reason could—"

jihoon grabs your hand, pulling you down next to him. as your mouth hangs open in surprise and confusion, he twists the cap off, throwing it to the side and squeezing some onto the back of his hand. he takes a deep intake of breath.

jihoon slaps (not that hard actually) his sunscreen-covered fingers on your forehead making you freeze. unable to form words, sounds even, you just stare at his focused eyes, the slight furrow of his brows as he spreads the sunscreen on your face.

you curse the heat, maybe also your flustered emotions, as your cheeks warm up when you take in the close proximity between you two and also because his cold, pretty hands were on your face!! he was so gentle and cautious with you that you had a feeling he was as panicked as you were right now.

as you were freaking out and praying he couldn't hear the pounding of your heart, jihoon was busy wondering if this was too much. was this weird? was he making you uncomfortable??

jihoon, now much more uncomfortable with the sudden silence, began to change the subject. “you know someone so thoughtful of their skincare shouldn’t forget to put on sunscreen.”

when you responded with a flustered silence, he snorts as you refused to maintain eye contact with him.

he takes your silence as pre-anxiousness for your event, instead of it being because of his bold actions. “you’ll be fine in your race. so beat yuri, get this day over with, and let’s do something after school together, yeah?”

so he did listen to your rants.

it made you think. when was the last time someone paid attention to your rambling? when was the last time someone cared enough to want you to put sunscreen on? when was the last time someone comforted you even when you didn’t show you were troubled?

"anyways!" jihoon yells as he jumps up from the bench, "you still have some sunscreen on your face, but I've done enough so..." (way to ruin the moment, jihoon...)

you felt your heartbeat quicken when jihoon pulled you up from the bench by hand and gave your head a couple pats to calm the anxiety.

“so remember why you wanna win and use that to motivate you. you got this, y/n!” he holds a fist up, truly wishing you the best even though you very well knew he had no care in the world for today’s sports day.

what was this feeling?

four. it's love

the moment you start running, jihoon felt his hands get clammy and heart start pumping though he wasn’t even running. okay, so maybe he was completely listening to your rants even if he didn’t want to. maybe he did want you to beat yuri because he loved seeing you so passionate about something and always rooted for your success.

so as you passed yuri in your relay right before the finish line, maybe he did jump from his seat and start cheering. for once, he ignored all the stares from people around him who were shocked to hear his voice louder than class-speaking volume. he was just so so excited to see you sprint past the finish line with the biggest smile on your face as your classmates rushed over to congratulate their class representative.

he watches as you scan the bleachers, eyes lighting up as you find his eyes and mouthed the words, ‘i won!’

jihoon nods with a smile, sending you two thumbs up as you laugh before turning away to talk to your friends.

despite you being surrounded by so many people and him on the bleachers by himself on sports day, he still can’t help but finally realizes he likes you. he always has despite all the differences. lee jihoon likes you. and his smile never fades away upon processing this fact.

five. the argument

it’s been 11 days, 10 hours, and 34 minutes since jihoon had spoken a word to you. at first, you decided to keep track of the days so you could use it as a point to argue with jihoon. but that was ultimately thrown out of the window when jihoon remained giving you the silent treatment and no argument, not a single word from him was in sight (you did not expect this). he probably just needs some time alone... right?

on the other hand, jihoon could always feel your burning, infuriated stares burning a hole in the back of his head. it came to the point where walking by you in the hallways felt like he was on fire.

lee jihoon was conflicted. he enjoyed being your friend (even if it felt like it should be more sometimes), but at what cost? his mind just kept going back to your friends' conversation that day.

just as jihoon was about to unlock the restroom stall, his hand freezes at the mention of your name from someone's mouth. his name as well.

"you think y/n is actually friends with that loser?"

"who?"

"the nerd who always listens to music in the back of the class!"

"ah, lee jihoon? i mean... i doubt it. they're probably hanging with him to make him feel like he belongs, you know? he has no friends so that's probably why."

"holy shit, that's so depressing."

"right?"

and when jihoon is conflicted, he did what he does best: stay silent. because yes, being your friend made his year. should he keep being your friend even if he knew you were doing it out of pity? would he go that far for his crush?

as jihoon makes his way to the music room after just finishing his lunch, he decides to just stay silent forever! confrontation is difficult... so none of that!!!

he reaches his hand out to turn the knob of the music room, but lets out a pained groan as the door flies into his face unbeknownst to you who just got too excited at his presence because now you could finally talk to him alone!

"jihoon! i knew you'd come here! let's talk," and suddenly all your angry, violent thoughts that said to be angry at lee jihoon for ignoring you for so long flew out of your head. all rational thoughts: gone. you grabbed his hand that wasn't rubbing his now red forehead and pulled him into the room.

jihoon sighs. so much for no confrontation.

when jihoon closes the door behind you both, you take a deep inhale of breath and exhale to calm your nerves. you've been thinking about this moment for ages, don't mess it up now!

you turn swiftly to face jihoon with a bitter expression on his face, making you gulp as the nerves begin crawling back.

"li-listen, whatever i did i'm sorry. i truly didn't mean to hurt you, so please, tell me what i did wrong so we can talk it out and i can apologize properly!"

for the first time since being pulled into that room by you, he looks at you to meet your eyes. how could they be so... genuine?

he looked at you in a way that made you want to sink to the floor. "well? are you gonna say anything?" you frown as he stares at you wordlessly.

"why are you friends with me?"

you blink at him in shock. "w-what?"

jihoon sighs and repeats, "why are you friends with me?"

you struggle to form the right words to say. "well... we kept running into each other and i liked talking to you so i just stuck around.” that could be worded much better, you think.

he didn’t believe you.

“you’re only friends with me because you’re vice president and it’s your job to help your peers, right?”

your jaw went slack.

“where did you get that from??”

this look was different. not mad, but hopeless. “not important. just answer me, is it true?”

“of course not! who told you that? why would you even believe that?” okay, now you were starting to get worked up because that’s such a horrid thing to assume of you! did he have that little faith in you?

his fists tighten because suddenly pin-pointing all the flaws in his friendship with you became easy.

“hey, but to add on to that, why do you baby me?”

your eyebrows knit together because you just got even more lost if possible. “baby you? since when? how? where did any of this come from, jihoon?”

“can you quit being so focused on where this is coming from? it’s coming from me, okay? it makes sense anyways, i am nothing like any of your friends. why me? why be friends with me—“

“why can’t i just be friends with you because i want to?? do all my friends need to be the same?”

he lets out a menacing scoff. “okay, so am i some charity case then? a friendship made out of pity because i can’t seem to ever speak up for myself and you always have to swoop in to save me? i can defend myself, y/n. why do you act like i’m a defenseless loser that needs to be protected and babied?”

“i have never thought about you that way! first of all, whoever told you i was friends with you because it was my job has no idea what you and i are. you’ve never given other people the time of day to listen to their stupid opinions, so why now, huh?”

because it was about you.

“second of all, you always complain about people not understanding you or mistreating you! you always let people walk all over you! i am sick of having to watch you pretend like you’re cool and unbothered at what people say about you, so forgive me if i’m standing up for you because i care. it’s not my job, i’m doing it because i’m your friend. and if you were uncomfortable about it, just tell me! set boundaries! not give me the silent treatment.”

“well i don’t want to be your friend anymore.” his words were eerily cold. he gave up. he clearly didn’t want to try for this or you anymore.

your gentle pants from your yelling fill the silent and tense atmosphere of the music room where you two first met. silent because his words were still processing in both of your heads and tense because this was probably the end of your friendship. you both couldn't meet each other's eyes.

as jihoon was gauging your troubled expression, a pool of heavy guilt filled his stomach. that sentence was not how he imagined it would go. he always thought it would be said bravely. lovingly. like in a confession. not like friends breaking up!

so you decide to give up too because what’s the point in trying when he doesn’t trust you.

“okay then. i respect that. i have nothing else to say. do you?”

he grimaces at the way your voice shakes. the way your nose scrunches unpleasantly. and his heart regrets the way your eyes shine over with tears. jihoon would never believe that he would one day be the cause of your pain and tears.

“no.” goddammit, that’s not what he wanted to say. why was he such a coward?

“okay.” your voice was just a whisper as you breeze past him, not wanting him to see you cry a second time.

when the door of the room shuts behind him, he cries. for the first time in a long time.

he can’t even remember what he was mad about. he could only remember your broken expression and your broken tone. he messed up something beautiful all because it was hard believing that someone as amazing as you would want to be his friend. and possibly like him.

six. right person, right time

22 days, 12 hours, and 16 minutes. why are you even keeping track anymore at this point? you two are not friends. period.

you weren’t even friends with him for that long! you had your other friends too anyways so why did cutting things off with him hurt so much? (i wonder why).

after not talking to jihoon, you start to realize how being his friend was such a breath of fresh air. a break from life. a good and genuine change. it was great. this was probably because how jihoon had no care for social cliques or no expectations or just no interest in things outside of grades and music!

and so for the first time in a long time, someone wanted to talk to you about something that had nothing to do with student council, clubs, school, volunteering, or community service. meeting jihoon was a quick and sharp realization that all your friends, all the people you surround yourself with, are people from the student council or simply smart-popular people! over-achievers! nerds!

maybe jihoon was right when he said you were the definition of a nerd who also happened to be popular… (which you refused to believe because how could a nerd be popular, jihoon?)

nevertheless! jihoon’s interest in music, critiquing animes, playing instruments for fun (not just in school like what), and best of all his carefree attitude, truly make all these nerds around you so bland and basic.

like finally, someone who busies themself with something, not about school or accomplishing something worthy enough to put on a college application.

and about his carefree attitude, it’s crazy how you never noticed until jihoon mentioned how uptight some of your friends were after hearing a close friend of yours, who was also secretary of the council, talk to you about something school related. all you and your friends talked about was school.

so yes, being friends with lee jihoon was beyond eye-opening and more life-changing, but it also made you view your friends differently. were they even your friends? if you weren't a part of all your extracurriculars, no, if you just weren't smart or outgoing, would they care about you at all?

this epiphany has let you see your friends for the people they are. you indeed saw this for yourself when some dumb boys began picking on him.

"seriously, i get if you don't like us. i respect that even. but failing us just because you think we're inferior to you makes you look like a fucking loser," park junghyung laughed cynically as he pulled a chair next to jihoon's desk, getting all up in his face.

if you don't see it, it doesn’t exist. jihoon has been repeating this sentence for the past five minutes because junghyung and his friends couldn't stand not being carried through group assignments for the first time in their lives.

"i didn't fail you, that's up to ms. lee."

with that, junghyung's tight-lipped smile dropped and his "patience" ran dry. he shot up from his seat and kicked it to the floor, the loud clanging sound making people gasp and begin to watch the situation unfold.

yeah, maybe removing his entire group's names from the presentation before submitting was too bold of a move. well, they should’ve done shit to help if they didn’t want a failing grade, right? after all, you always told him 'be bold and be strong! don't let stupid idiots walk over you! run over them instead!' wait, why as he even thinking about you in this situation?? damn it!

so, cue you walking toward jihoon's classroom, ready to confront some bullies and you’re only doing this because it’s the right thing to do, not that you still like him or anything (lie)! you don’t dare to hope you two might reconcile and maybe even become friends again after this because that’s so dumb (lie). and hopefully, jihoon won’t think you're babying him, you just want to clear his name! (truth).

however, seeing your crush (100% truth) lee jihoon being cornered by park junghyung who was grabbing his collar while everyone was staring and recording was not what you expected! are you seriously about to walk into a fight for your crush… (yes).

"you must think you're all that to pull such a move, huh. in reality, you're just a pathetic shit who can’t even pull bitches because they all pity you.” was he talking about you?

now that he thinks about it, the voice in the restroom that day was him. it was park junghyung.

honest to god, jihoon 100% firmly believes the best choice in this situation would be to run because he cannot fight. he guesses he can try, but unfortunately, junghyung is a fit dude. a big dude. if only he didn’t talk about you and insinuate you were a bitch.

jihoon grabs junghyung’s collar and throws him off. he’s at his limit right now.

“if you didn’t want to fail, maybe stop partying and getting drunk of your ass to get away from your fucked up home life? maybe actually use that empty shit brain of yours and do something with it? maybe then you wouldn’t have to ask your rich dad or student council friends to pull favors so you don’t get pushed down a class or kicked out of school even.” jihoon is suddenly very memorable of all the school gossip you’ve told him before.

junghyung laughs in disbelief. “you’re asking for it, you little fucker.”

well. this was it. this is when jihoon gets sucker punched.

“y-you dickhead!”

woah, was that… you??

everyone, including jihoon and an impatient junghyung turns to see you pushing through crowds, and marching your way in between junghyung and jihoon.

junghyung rolls his eyes when you grab jihoon’s hand reassuringly and glare up at him.

“come on, y/n. quit the charity act. it’s getting annoying now. move aside, yeah?”

a slap resonates through the filled classroom. gasps fill the room as even more phones go up to record the student council vice president slapping it boy park junghyung across the face.

jihoon’s eyes go wide. wide! he instinctively pulls you behind him, shielding you from a fuming, red junghyung.

he side-eyes you who was also very shell-shocked at your own actions.

“y/n, what the hell are you doing?” he whispers as junghyung’s group goes up to him to ask if he was okay.

“to be honest, i don’t know. just know i am not babying you. i’m doing this and have always been doing this because i care about you, now move. i’m not done.”

jihoon’s eyes soften as he caresses his thumb over the back of your hand. he doesn’t deserve you.

junghyung lets out a laugh of disbelief. “you know what, you two deserve each other. you’re both fucking insane.”

“well, you and your friends are all fucking stupid.”

yes, you knew his friends (also your friends) were in the room watching. yes, you knew you would be losing a lot of friends today if you continued talking. yes, it’s worth it if it’s for lee jihoon especially if they all think of him the same way junghyung does.

junghyung clenches his jaw before taunting, “oh really! i wonder what our friends will think about that,” he turns around to the crowd of people with arms wide, “what do you guys think about the genius and model student y/n swearing and assaulting other students? their own friend at that too!”

you scoff and roll your eyes at this boy’s sheer audacity. he was never your friend.

junghyung gets more pissed off at your reaction and says, “since when were you such an annoying bitch?”

you cross your arms across your chest impatiently. did he think he was that intimidating? “i’ll start being a bitch because it’s sickening watching you push everyone around. what? do you think i’m like everyone else?”

jihoon panics when he feels you try to push past his arm as junghyung does the same also while his friends attempt to hold him back.

jihoon laughs awkwardly, trying to calm the situation. still making sure to keep an arm between you an junghyung, he apologizes, “they’re just a bit mad at the unnecessary crowding and recording haha, please understand.”

you whip your head to glare at jihoon, “quit apologizing when you’re not in the wrong. now move.”

you move closer to junghyung staring at you with cursing eyes.

“woah junghyung, you gonna slap me back? punch me? like you do with your classmates and call it messing around?”

“man, this bitch is fucking insane!”

“i’ll show you how insane i can be if you keep taking advantage of jihoon or anyone else just because they’re nice people.” you feel jihoon turn around to face you completely, but refuse to look at him because you knew you would melt instantly. you missed him.

you hold his hand tighter before concluding, “now you’re always gonna be known as an idiot who bullies smart kids because he can’t do shit in school. i really won’t let it slide if you mess with jihoon again,” you turn to scan everyone who was in the room recording, “send that video to the principal if you want i don’t care!“

you pull jihoon away from junghyung who punches the nearest desk before letting out a frustrated yell.

“move. move!” you shove your way through the crowd as your friends, well, maybe not friends anymore after they had just seen you slap and swear at someone… but it didn’t matter you’d see them tomorrow for student council stuff anyways if you still had your position after this.

you and jihoon walk away from everyone who began to disperse, gossiping because how could model student y/n act so aggressively?

but that was the last thing on your mind because you felt like there was a lot to discuss with jihoon.

jihoon who just trails behind you, hands still entwined with yours, was zoning out thinking about what just occurred. you stop abruptly, making him walk into your back.

“s-sorry-“

you pull him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind you, letting go of his hand.

you sigh and put your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath for a moment. you had so much adrenaline running and you could even hear your heartbeat in your ears.

you still manage to slap jihoon’s hand away when he attempts to turn on the lights, “no lights right now.”

he nods, staring at your tired figure awkwardly.

jihoon scratches the back of his head, not knowing what to say. does he thank you? scold you for nearly getting beat up for him? risking your spot and position in the student council?

his thoughts clear as you begin rambling. he sighs internally hearing your panicked tone. “i know, i know! we’re not friends anymore and you didn’t want me to speak for you or to you anymore, i know. i’m sorry. i just… i care about you so so much, even if we're not friends. i never approached you after you caught me crying because i pitied you and felt it was my duty to be there for you. th-that was never the case. so please don’t be mad at me, we can go our separate ways after today. just know—“

jihoon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you. he cups the back of your head and in a hushed tone says, “it’s okay. i’m sorry. i was wrong. it was my fault. i still wanna be with you. i was just lost for a moment, i’m sorry i hurt you. you didn't deserve to be treated like that by me. i hope you can forgive me even if i don’t deserve it.”

tears brim your eyes as you nod, sniffling. you hope he understands what you were trying to say wordlessly when you wrap your arms around his waist tightly, not wanting to be apart from him again.

jihoon never knew what to say to people, especially when it came to comforting someone. but then came you. and the words flowed so easily.

seven. because i like you

your phone buzzes in your pocket, you glance down cautiously, avoiding getting caught by your teacher. back then you would have never check your phone for anyone else, but you had started to for jihoon. you blame him for being a bad influence on you, but he said you were being a bad influence on yourself.

hoon: i’m in the music room rn. can we talk?

you: yes, please. i’ll be there in ten after my council meeting

you sigh. this felt like deja vu. hopefully, it wouldn’t end up too much like last time you both were in here though.

you turn the knob and pull the door open, making eye contact with a lee jihoon who was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall.

he couldn’t even say a word as you let go of the door, closing it in your face. you were not as mentally prepared as you thought you were.

moments later, the door swings back open and you speed walk over to him, plopping down on the floor in front of him.

“sorry. i just needed a moment,” you mutter, looking down at your shoes.

he chuckles at your cute antics, “that’s okay.”

jihoon then pulls out a wrapped triangle gimbap in one hand and a yakult in the other, hands both outstretched to you.

you blink owlishly at the two snacks in his pretty hands as he sighs with a slight smile, “it’s for you. i know you didn’t get to buy lunch because your student council meeting just ended.”

when you still didn’t move after his explanation, jihoon just places it down in front of your legs.

“a-ah! thank you, jihoon! you didn’t have to…” you clear your throat, realizing how affected you sounded by his actions.

“i wanted to,” jihoon replies nonchalantly, taking off his jacket at the same time.

you peel back the wrapper of the gimbap with a throbbing heart and smile, also trying to change the subject before you combust, “is it hot in here?”

without a response, jihoon drapes his jacket over your legs, which were also sitting uncomfortably because of your skirt.

you look up at jihoon looking off to the side with timid eyes, “sorry, i shouldn’t have sat on the ground. you can use my jacket for now.”

you punch his shoulder with a giggle, thanking him as he groans.

“since when were you such a gentleman, gosh jihoon.”

he rolls his eyes in a joking manner, “since always, you just never notice.”

“sure sure. anyways, what…. did you want to talk about?”

the light and comfortable atmosphere and banter between the two of you just now had made you completely forget this was the first time you talked to jihoon after the junghyung incident. though it was only two days ago, you were busy talking to the principal and dealing with the whole situation, which left you no time until now to talk to him. which still wasn’t even enough time!

“oh yeah,” jihoon looks up from his lap to make eye contact with you, suddenly in a serious mood, “i just wanted to see how you were. did you get in trouble?”

“mm, yes and no? like principal han was pretty mad, but all those years of sucking up to her did me good because she said she still thinks i’m a good student, i just handled the situation wrong,” you say while trying to peel off the lid of the yakult.

jihoon notices, taking the drink from your hands and poking a straw through it for you…….

was he hiding the straw from you just so he could do that….cheeky idiot. anyways!

“continue?” jihoon inquires softly, handing the drink back to you.

“t-thanks. uhh, i have to make a formal apology to several classes tomorrow morning! i think just the classes in our hallway because those were the ones that gathered to watch us the most, which was so rude by the way?? why would they just stare and record? couldn’t someone get a teacher? ugh, but i also have to do a buuunch of community service this weekend with everyone who hates me now after the whole thing.”

jihoon frowns. he forgot that you defending him that day ended up making your friends distance themselves from you. he can’t help but feel at blame. at fault. did you even have friends anymore?

your eyebrows furrow when jihoon’s expression began to get cloudy and disturbed all of a sudden.

“jihoon? what’s up?”

“i’m sorry,” he replies almost instantly, making you blink in shock.

“i’m sorry that helping me that day made you get on bad terms with everyone. god, they’re your friends and fellow members… you’ll have to see them everyday a-and i made them all turn on you. i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything to junghyung that day. i shouldn’t have let you talk to him. i shouldn’t have—“

you lean forward on your hands, landing a peck on jihoon’s cheek, successfully shutting him up from his intrusive thoughts.

“geez, jihoon… i thought you said you have trouble expressing your feelings! why are you only expressing the negative ones to me??”

jihoon’s cheeks grow and feel fiery as his hand goes up to his cheek, fingers ghosting over where your lips were just a moment ago. the feeling was still there.

not noticing his blushing state, you continue ranting, “even if i knew the outcome of that fight, i still would do it all again in a heartbeat. a heartbeat! i did it because i like you, okay? i wanted to. it’s not your fault, so why would you apologize?”

jihoon’s eyes shoot up to meet yours. “you like me?”

now it was your turn to become shy. did you really say that…?

your heartbeat pounds against your rib age, not knowing what to say. “do you?”

“yes. and i have for a while.”

you nod, managing to calm your heart. you suddenly find your gimbap very interesting now. “good. we’re on the same terms then.” but then you thought about how jihoon remembered you had meetings on wednesdays and never got the chance to eat lunch.

your heartbeat goes wild again. (gosh, him and his acts of service!!!)

jihoon shakes his head with a quiet laugh at your response, “i guess we are.”

sensing how you seemed very overwhelmed with the unexpected confession, which was not how he imagined you would react if he ever confessed (not that he imagined it or anything…..), he decided maybe making another move or establishing anymore between you two would be for another day. for now, he likes you and you like him. that’s enough for the both of you to be on cloud nine.

eight. closest to the heart

today was the day. lee jihoon will be giving you his nametag today because even though you kissed him that day, nothing has been established since you two refuse to talk about it! although you both can tell the other has some sort of interest or feelings for the other, that was all. nothing more, which was enough for a few days. then jihoon got sick of it and wanted to officially be yours.

hoon: music room after school?

you: yes but buy a cola for me this time too please

hoon: of course :)

you: last time you forgot

hoon: no i ran out of money and offered you mine anyways

you: you’re a bad liar

hoon: i’m sorry

you walk into the music room with a bright smile. any bad memories of this room were quickly replaced with fun, heart-aching memories of him. memories of spending all of lunch eating in here, gossiping away at your now ex-friends. memories of watching him in amazement as he composes a beautiful melody with the several instruments in this room just with the talent of his mind. memories of your feelings only growing more and stronger for him.

waiting for jihoon to arrive, you walk around the room, smiling at all the instruments jihoon has played for you. he was so different from you in such a good way. you who only took up extracurriculars for the sake of having something to put on a college application versus jihoon who did non-academic activities just because he genuinely found peace and joy in them. he was so amazing in your eyes. you wish he could see himself the way you saw him.

while scanning around the room, your eyes land on a piece of paper with writing on a table. you raise an eyebrow. barely anyone else comes here and jihoon always comes here with you? or so you thought?

you walk towards the paper, picking it up to read it. instantly, you recognized it to be jihoon’s writing. you have never met a boy with such nice handwriting before until him.

he had made a short bullet point list.

don’t stutter. look them in the eyes. don’t ramble and be straight to the point. be honest. finally, give them the—

a high-pitched yell interrupts your reading. “Y/N!!”

you yelp as jihoon comes speeding at you, swiping the paper off your hands and into his pocket.

he pants, a hand gripping the table as you look at him bewildered.

“jihoon, what the heck?”

“s-sorry, just boy stuff, you know?”

you stare at him with a blank expression, not believing his lie for a moment. “no, i don’t know.”

jihoon laughs awkwardly with gritted teeth, desperate to move on to another topic.

“oh! i have something to tell you! that’s why i asked you to come here today.”

you nod, gesturing for him to continue.

he clears his throat, fixes his posture, and takes a breath.

“y/n. i already told you this, but i want to tell you again. i like you. i’ve liked you since the early days of our friendship when you kept following me around and i tried to make you leave me alone by constantly saying that you talk too much. that was a lie. well, you do ramble, but i didn’t mind because i do too. i just didn’t know how to deal with such a pretty person wanting to talk to me every day.”

he smiles unconsciously because even the thought of you made him smile. just the thought of you alone.

“i began to like you more when you would come to the music room with me during lunch even when you said your friends wouldn’t stop complaining about it. i liked you more when you texted me good morning and goodnight, when you asked me if i ate, when you wanted to listen to my music, and when you were just you. i don’t think i’ve ever shown my music to someone before, but you’re a special person to me. you will always be a special person to me. and… i hope to be a special person to you as well…”

with a shaky hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his nametag. jihoon grabs your hand and places it in your palm, closing your hand around it.

your confused expression sends jihoon into a whirlwind of panic.

“i like you too, jihoon. you’ve always been a special person to me, though.” jihoon falters when you undo the pin of his name tag and attempt to pin it back on his uniform.

“are you rejecting me?”

the absolute seriousness but also slight wavering of his voice makes you nearly drop the name tag.

“what?” you shriek, “of course not! i thought we were making this official!”

jihoon thinks, trying to connect the dots together... nothing’s connecting.

“we are. and i wanna be your boyfriend…but why are you giving me back my name tag?”

you glance down at the his name tag in your hands puzzled.

“i thought you wanted me to pin it back for you. as in like ‘i like you so much here’s the honor of letting you pin my name tag on me,’” when you take in the horrified look on your now boyfriend’s face, you laugh awkwardly, “isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

“no! oh my gosh, i would never confess to you in such a douchey way. ever. i just…” his words trail off when he realizes maybe you didn’t know what giving a name tag to someone meant. that never occurred as a possible situation in his head. and trust when i say he thought he mapped all the possible situations that would result from him confessing.

“wait, don’t you know what giving you my name tag means?”

you blink twice.

jihoon lets out a sigh of relief and then laughs at your adorable, lost state.

he collects himself, but one look at you makes him melt and throw his arms around you in a hug.

your breath halts when jihoon practically puts all his weight on you, snuggling his head into your neck.

his soft voice makes your body shiver.

“there’s basically this … tradition where a boy gives his name tag to his crush as a way to confess his love because name tags sit close to the heart.”

the wheels in your head begin turning again.

“so … in way, i’m giving you my heart.”

when you response with a sniffle, jihoon pulls back from the hug immediately.

“are you crying??” he looks at you with wide eyes, cradling your head.

you pout, “no, but i might. that’s so cute, jihoon. i love it so much.”

your hand grasps his name tag tighter. he just gave you his heart.

you pull his hand, closing the distance between you two once again.

you lean your head on his shoulder, whispering out five words so quiet so only he could hear, “i love you so much.”

“i love you too,” he responds almost immediately.

you hold in a giggle when you feel his pounding heart as he holds back a quip when he also hears your heart beating erratically in the silence and comfort of the music room.

nine. a love that lasts

“highschool love never lasts.” okay tell that to you and jihoon then.

“are you… crying??”

when those words slip from jihoon’s mouth, a sob escapes your throat.

you hid your face with your sleeve, tears falling nonstop and crying, “you wrote a song for me!”

jihoon gawks at you because he was baffled. were these good tears? bad tears? shocked tears? angry tears??? he should be good at reading your emotions by now! he’s been dating you for seven years now. eight years as of today because it was your relationship’s anniversary! and he's written you several songs before??

he stumbles out of his chair to you as you continue to cry (sob).

“y/n, what-what’s wrong? whatever i did, i’m sorry. it's my fault,” he sits beside you on the couch of this recording studio, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“no, you did nothing wrong at all,” you sniffle, “i just love the song so much. i love you so much.”

jihoon bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. he turns your face toward him with both of his hands, cupping your face so he could wipe your falling tears away with his thumbs.

his hands pause as he squeezes your cheeks. “i love you too. i’m glad you like the song so much. happy 8th anniversary, y/n. thank you for loving me all these years even though i was so difficult and still am.”

you close your eyes, more cries erupting as jihoon dares to laugh at you and pulls you in for a warm, but a crushing hug.

you sometimes wonder how you would’ve survived high school without jihoon. then and now, he has been someone who helped you breathe when things began to get overwhelming. he was your anchor. for jihoon, he was speeding through life, wanting to grow up as soon as possible. that was until he fell in love with you. you made him feel want to cherish his days and live happily. his life had meaning again. his days had the motivation to do more. you brought out the best in him.

he now begins to wonder how you’ll react when he pulls out the rings and asks the biggest question of his and your lives. however, he has a feeling it’ll be a good cry as well.

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