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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:

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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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snaileer · 2 months

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A writers haunted past.

I’m literally having this issue with a fic right now🥲

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steddiehyperfixation · 5 months

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don't you forget about me (part five)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve:

Steve sat in the back of Eddie’s van, lounging against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, perpendicular to Eddie who sat against the back of the seats, legs also kicked out and propped up on top of Steve’s as they passed a joint back and forth, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. The windows and doors were closed to keep the night’s cool summer breeze out and the smoke in, the air in the van pleasantly warm and thick and hazy; their minds so too.

Steve took a hit of the joint and attempted to blow smoke rings when he exhaled, making funny shapes with his lips and failing so spectacularly it made Eddie burst into a fit of raucous laughter. He threw his head back with it, hysterical and giggly in his high. Steve shoved at Eddie’s legs in mock offense at being laughed at, but it lacked heat, and he’d already caught the giggles from him too.

“You’re really beautiful, you know,” Steve said, dopey smile on his face as he watched Eddie laugh.

Eddie snorted. “And you’re really high.” He plucked the joint out of Steve’s hands, not giving the compliment much weight at all. People just say things sometimes when they’re too high, and he knew Steve’s tolerance for any sort of substance had gone way down since he’d gotten caught in that mall fire a couple weeks ago. Something to do with trauma or whatever.

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Steve agreed, blowing a raspberry at him. “But I meant it, though,” he said. His dazed eyes drifted lazily over Eddie’s face. “I think it all the time sober too, every time you laugh or smile or the light hits you just right. You have pretty lips and pretty eyes and pretty hair.”

“Yeah, it’s the long hair, man.” Eddie laughed, genuine but dismissive, taking a hit of the joint and saying on the exhale, “Got the wires all crossed in that lovely little head of yours. Your high brain’s just got me confused for a girl or something.”

“No.” Steve frowned at him, bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout as he shook his head. “I’m not confused. I don’t think you’re a girl. I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy.”

“Hm.” Eddie took another hit, felt the weed float through his veins, cloud his mind even further. “In that case…” The smoke escaped past lips stretched into an unsuppressable grin. “You wanna know a secret?”

Steve angled his body towards him and leaned forward in interest. “Uh huh.”

Eddie snuffed out the joint, pushed away from the back of the seats, and pulled his legs off of Steve, sitting back on his heels instead as he shifted to face Steve better and move closer. Inches apart now, Eddie brought a hand up to Steve’s cheek and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy too.”

Steve giggled, smile wide and cheeks pink. He hooked an arm around Eddie’s waist and swept him onto his lap, making Eddie giggle too as he was pulled in close. Their foreheads rested against each other. Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes settled on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie thought he got the hint. He leaned in, and for a second Steve leaned in too, only for him to duck away at the very last second, the would-be kiss amounting only to the barest brush of their lips. A small whine, confused and wanting, escaped involuntarily from the back of Eddie’s throat.

“Waitwaitwait-” Steve said, one hand pressed lightly against Eddie’s chest to hold him back. “We should be sober first.”

Eddie huffed, but agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” His hand still cupped Steve’s face though, thumb running over his cheekbone as he asked, “Will you even still want to kiss me when you’re not high?”

“Of course I will.” Steve leaned into his touch. “Will you?”

“Of course I will. Have you seen you?” Eddie said with a light laugh. “How could I not?”

Steve grinned, bumped his forehead against Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna kiss you breathless when we’re sober, I promise.”

“You better.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek instead, for now. “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.”

He was rewarded with another giggle and both of Steve’s arms wrapping around him now to pull him closer to his chest. Eddie slipped an arm around Steve’s waist too and settled against him, curled up so that he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His other hand dropped from Steve’s face and drifted instead to land on the bicep of the strong arms that cradled him.

The giggly elation of their high was beginning to give way to a stoned sleepiness, the weed-soaked air draped around them like a blanket. They probably could’ve fallen asleep like that - it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d passed out back there after a smoke sesh - but the air would soon grow stale, not to mention every breath inside the hotboxed van only maintained their intoxication and Eddie kind of really wanted to be sober as soon as possible.

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself away from Steve. “We should head inside.”

“Yeah, alright.” Steve, equally reluctantly, let go of Eddie and let him leave his lap.

They separated to climb out of the van and make their way to the trailer and back to Eddie’s room to get ready for bed, but they gravitated towards each other again, drawn together like magnets once they laid side by side under Eddie’s sheets. It was almost unconscious, really, the way they both reached out and pulled each other close.

By the time morning came, they were completely intertwined: both of them had both arms wrapped tight around the other, their legs entangled, Steve’s head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin and face buried in his chest. Eddie idly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair; Steve stirred at the touch and muttered a muffled, “‘Morning,” which Eddie softly echoed.

Steve pulled his head back from Eddie’s chest then and shifted himself up so that they were face to face - or, more accurately, nose to nose. “Oh.” He smiled a little. “Hi.” And Eddie echoed that too, with a matching small smile.

“About last-” Steve started to say, at the same time Eddie began to ask, “Did you-?” They both broke off into a light chuckle. Steve shook his head and said, “Sorry, you go.”

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and careful and hopeful.

“Every word,” Steve replied, his gaze soft as his eyes met Eddie’s. “Did you?”

“Every word,” Eddie confirmed. A slow grin spread across his face, and he slid his hand from Steve’s hair to trace his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You have a promise to keep now, big boy.”

“That I do,” Steve agreed with a smirk of his own, pulling Eddie closer.

Their lips met, properly this time. Steve kissed him gentle and sweet and slow, and Eddie all but melted into it, a syrupy warmth flooding his veins. He kissed back, matched the pace. Steve flipped them over, pressing Eddie’s back into the mattress as he deepened the kiss and settled his weight on top of him with a languid, full body roll. Eddie moaned softly beneath him, his lips parting to accept the caress of Steve’s tongue which licked into his mouth in easy, tender strokes. His hands curled in Steve’s hair again and in the fabric of his shirt, back arched in an attempt to press himself even closer as Steve continued to kiss him like he was drinking Eddie in, like Eddie was something precious and Steve was determined to savor every taste. It was dizzying, hypnotizing, thoroughly fucking intoxicating.

When Steve finally pulled away, Eddie was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak. He stared up at him, dazed, eyes wide and mouth still open soundlessly.

“Told you,” Steve said, a smugness in his smile, “breathless.”

“Man of your word.” Eddie found his voice again, remembered how to pull air back into his lungs. “An attractive quality,” he murmured before tugging Steve down into another kiss.

This one got a little more heated. It was Eddie who took control this time, and he kissed Steve with fervor. He switched their positions, rolling over so that Steve was the one lying beneath him now, Eddie’s body grinding down as he landed on top of Steve. It was not soft and neither was the sound Steve let out in response: a guttural groan that rumbled against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallowed that sound, bit down on it, devoured it; craved more of it. He left Steve’s mouth to kiss down his neck, scraping his teeth against those stupidly biteable moles and sucking a bruise onto the skin. Steve’s breath stuttered; as Eddie paired the lovebite with another harsh grind, Steve’s hips bucked up to meet him, pulling another deep groan from them both.

“Eddie,” Steve gasped out then. “Eddie, we should slow down.”

Eddie immediately clambered off of him. “Right, yeah. Too much. Sorry.” He put some distance between them, sitting more towards the edge of the bed and looking away awkwardly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steve said as he sat up and shifted closer, placing a hand over Eddie’s. “I just- I don’t want this to be just that.” His other hand reached up to turn Eddie’s face back towards him. “I want something real with you. I want to do things right.”

“Oh. Yeah, I wouldn’t just-” Eddie shook his head and smiled softly instead, taking Steve’s hand from his face and holding it. “I want something real with you too.”

Steve sighed, smiled with visible relief. He squeezed Eddie’s hands. “Okay, good.”

Eddie’s stomach grumbled audibly then, and he said with a grin, “So, how about you take me out to breakfast, sweetheart, and we can go from there?”

Steve laughed. “Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning in to give Eddie one more lingering kiss first.

Eddie wakes up wanting, a deep ache in his heart like there’s something missing now that he’s awake. Steve is still holding his hand, and Eddie looks over to see the guy passed out in the bedside chair, head lolled to one side, mouth open, a line of drool crusted down his chin. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking adorable. The ache in his heart twinges.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie groans to himself. He knows what this is. He’s got a fucking crush. On Steve fucking Harrington. Of all people. Of course he does.

For all his anti-jock rhetoric, even for all his protests yesterday about not being obsessed, Eddie always did have a sort of fascination with Steve Harrington in high school. More of a passing fancy, really. He thought Steve was attractive, sure, but in the way a celebrity is attractive - unobtainable and unreal - so it was always more like Steve was just his favorite reality TV show rather than an actual crush. But now Steve is real, and worst of all, he’s kind. King Steve Intangible Hot Asshole Jock Harrington is now Sweet Lovely Gorgeous Goofy Perfect Steve who holds Eddie’s hand when he’s scared and tells stupid jokes to make him laugh and always seems to know exactly what he needs, so of course Eddie never stood a single goddamn chance. Of course Eddie only had to spend one fucking day with this man for his old teenage fascination to trip and start falling for him, for Eddie to start having stupid, sappy dreams about him.

Because Eddie’s sure that’s all it was. No way was that dream a memory; his brain was just taking bits and pieces of what Steve had said yesterday and filling in the blanks with fantasy. Dumb, sweet, soft, romantic fantasy. Complete with fucking yearning and shit.

Eddie groans again. Why couldn’t it have just been a sex dream? He knows how to handle sex dreams. Sex dreams don’t come with actual feelings.

Steve begins to rouse then, probably stirred awake by all Eddie’s grumbling.

“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie says as Steve lifts his head and wipes the crusted drool from his mouth.

“Eddie?” Steve rubs his eyes with one hand, then blinks and squeezes Eddie’s hand with his other as his face breaks into a smile. “Hey, you slept through the night!”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m your infant child reaching a milestone.” He puts on a slight character voice, pitching up his inflection, “‘Baby Eddie slept through the night for the very first time! Mommy Steve was finally able to get some rest!’”

“Ew.” Steve wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, even as he scoffs out a laugh. “Do not call me mommy.”

“Oh, sorry, would you prefer daddy?” Eddie asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Because he’s stupid and has no fucking filter.

“Uh-” That startles a nervous chuckle out of Steve, pretty pink blush blooming in his cheeks. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head again, and takes a breath to regain his composure. “Yeah, no, that’s not my thing either.”

“Noted,” Eddie says, and then physically bites his own tongue to stop himself from asking something even more stupid like so what is your thing then?

“Anyways-” Steve seems a little desperate to change the subject. “No nightmares last night?”

“Nah.” Eddie taps his fingers against Steve’s hand. “You’ve got some sort of magic touch, man. I never have nightmares when I fall asleep with your hands on me.”

Steve smiles at that, a small thing. “Told you I’d fight them off.”

“Man of your word,” Eddie mutters. His heart gives a little lurch as he echoes his dream, a reaction which is consequently made clear and apparent for anyone to see by the immediate uptick of beeping from his heart monitor. So that’s going to be a problem.

“Yeah-” Steve glances at the monitor, then back at Eddie, a concerned pinch between his brows (Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it away; his heart only beats faster). “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie glares accusingly at the heart monitor, like it’s betrayed him on purpose. “I don’t know why it’s doing that.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I can go get someone to check on you-” He starts to stand like he means to leave, but Eddie tightens his grip on his hand so he can’t get too far.

“I said I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie insists, a little sharper than he meant to. He takes a breath, smooths the edge off his voice. “A slightly increased heart rate is not gonna kill me, alright? You don’t have to worry about me so much.”

“I always worry about you,” Steve mutters. Though he does settle back into his chair, he keeps eyeing the heart monitor and worriedly chewing on his lip - as if that’s going to help Eddie’s racing heart situation.

“Okay, you gotta stop doing that, man.”

“What?”

“Acting all nervous like I’m about to drop dead,” Eddie says. “You’re stressing me out. No wonder my heart’s beating faster.”

“Right, sorry.” Steve looks away from the monitor and releases his lip from between his teeth, bitten red and plump now. Jesus.

Eddie breathes in slowly. He can be calm, he can be cool. He takes another few breaths until his heart rate finally starts to chill the fuck out and the monitor stops beeping so incessantly. “See, I’m totally fine.”

“Yeah.” Steve relaxes visibly. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, gives an apologetic smile. “Of course you are. Sorry I stressed you out.”

“That’s alright.” Eddie smiles back with a shrug, brushing it off. “Means you care, Stevie. I appreciate it.”

Steve’s expression turns warm then, and about 95% of Eddie’s higher brain functioning is now completely focused on trying to keep his heartbeat steady under the glow of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his hand. He doesn’t even hear whatever it is Steve says in response, just lets the timbre of his voice wash over him. It sounds like something soft, something kind, but not something that requires a reply, so Eddie stays quiet and continues to count each beat of his heart in the easy silence that settles over them.

Steve can’t decide if he wants to stay right here forever, holding Eddie’s hand and making sure he’s alright, or if he still wants to run so far from the ache it leaves in his chest.

Hanging out with Eddie yesterday had been overwhelmingly bittersweet. It felt so good to laugh with him again, to talk with him the way they used to, to see his face all lit up and happy. It felt so good to know that Eddie wanted him there, that he enjoyed spending time with him. There were moments that set Steve’s heart aglow, moments so effortless, so simple, so them, that he could forget, just for a second, all that was still missing between them. But each good feeling came with a stinging aftertaste of grief as Steve would remember and he felt the difference in the depth of their affection like a great gaping chasm, vast and black and bleak.

His emotions are frayed, all stretched and pulled in so many different directions at the same time. He wants and he worries and he aches and he loves; desire and despair.

Time makes his decision for him, though, as he catches sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly remembers, “Shit- I have to go, sorry. I promised Robin I’d finally come back to work today so she’d stop having to be stuck on shifts with Keith,” Steve says, starting to stand.

“Oh.” Eddie blinks like he’s been startled out of a trance. A brief disappointment flashes across his face. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back tonight, though,” Steve promises with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Soon as I can.”

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tug up into a small smile then. “Yeah, I know you will.” He lifts Steve’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it before letting go. “You’re my good luck charm.”

It’s such a small, innocent thing, but it wrenches Steve’s heart. The feeling of Eddie’s lips lingers on his skin like it’s haunting him, taunting him; the barest trace of something that once was, a ghost of what he’s lost. It’s almost cruel. Steve hates it, and he aches for it.

He’s quick to leave the room before Eddie can see the tears in his eyes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t like to see him sad.

(part six) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#fun and interesting new developments #i am dragging this shit out sorry lmao. not too much longer tho #i'm thinking this'll probably have maybe 3 more parts to it? we'll see.#steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

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killerpancakeburger · 1 month

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Imagine: Ghost giving you the shovel talk after Soap and you made your relationship official

It's the evening, you two are smoking outside in companionable silence, taking in the star-spangled sky. Suddenly his voice pulls you out of your daydreaming.

"So... you n' Johnny, eh?”

You feel an ominous shiver run down your spine - you do not like the turn this conversation is taking. His tone is steady, like it usually is, but it means nothing when that specter is involved. He could be slicing a throat and his voice wouldn't waver a iota.

If there was anything you learned about The infamous Ghost, in the absence of his identity and the face beneath the mask, it was that the names he used for the people he considered his family were anything but random. Soap was the most common way he refered to his Sergeant, but a Johnny could slip here and there. "Johnny" was personal; intimate; vulnerable; and possessive all at once. Not in the way an insecure lover would act - although...? Maybe...? -, but in the way a pack member would bare his fangs at a newcomer to protect his mates.

There was something animalistic buried within him that would resurface from time to time, when the risk was too great, when the survival of the 141 or of any of its members was jeopardized. Something you would not risk to vex. Simon was extremely protective behind closed doors, it wasn’t a scoop, but you thought yourself safe from his fangs... or at least you did until now.

"Yeah?"

How you hate the interrogation in your voice. As if you were seeking his permission. Like a child knowing they're asking for too much but doing it anyway.

You busy yourself with your cigarette, trying to look unfazed.

"He may sound like a fuckin' playboy most of the times, but he's actually a sensible kinda fella. Doesn't go around givin' his heart to just anyone, y'know?"

You gulp. Take a deep breath. The only way out is through. Might as well be done with it.

"So, is this the part where you swear that no one will ever find my body if I hurt him?"

You're proud of how casual you managed to sound.

He actually chuckles at that. A relaxed, raspy, unbothered kind of sound. Maybe you will walk away with your life tonight after all.

"Got it all figured out, don't ya? But that's good. Saves us some time."

He tosses his cigarette and, for the first time since you’ve been outside, he turns to you and look you in the eye. His stare is as intense as ever.

"We're in agreement, then? Ya'll treat mah boy well?"

"Wouldn't dream of anything else."

"Good lass."

A pause, then:

"This works both way, y'know that, right?"

"Hmm?"

Too busy celebrating your escape from the valley of the shadow of death, you haven't been completely paying attention.

"If he gives ya trouble, I'll knock some sense into that thick head of his."

You look at him again, your face beaming and your chest tingling with a newfound joy.

"Thank you."

You smile, unable to stop the motion of your lips. Your gratefulness is not for the threat he proclaimed, but for the friendship he extends to you.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to.

Suddenly a burly arm wraps around your neck.

"What were ya guys talkin' about!? You’ve been there for ages." Pouts Soap.

Glancing over at Ghost, you can see that Johnny has tried to grab him by the neck too, with a lukewarm success, considering the height difference between the two of them.

"Nothin' ye need to concern yerself with", retorts Simon, lying as easily as he breathes.

As Johnny turns to you in hopes of finding an easier target that will confess everything, you nearly miss the conspiratorial wink Ghost sends your way. The action is so far removed from his usual character, you understand that the discrepancy is made to amuse you. So you giggle.

Tonight the sky is full of stars, and your heart full of bliss, the way you feel like your chest might burst with happiness at any moment, with those two men at your side.

A/N: Platonic!Reader x Ghost my beloved 😫 🖤 Tried to make Ghost the less OOC as possible, as usual >_< but man its not a walk in the fookin park.

Trouple potential tho? 👀 sorry not sorry, I can't help it, I love the ambiguity...

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twistiraki · 4 months

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🎀The Twisted Wonderland housewardens save you from your bullies 🎀

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Characters Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x F!Reader Warnings bullying ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The cold, oppressive atmosphere of Night Raven College bore witness to the relentless cruelty inflicted upon Y/n by the three Savanaclaw students. They were a toxic trio, reveling in the sadistic pleasure of tormenting the lone soul who dared to be different.

In the shadows of the twisting corridors, the bullies cornered Y/n with malevolent grins and whispered taunts. "Look who we have here, the little misfit," sneered one of them, his words dripping with disdain.

Y/n, a stoic figure determined to withstand the onslaught, clenched her teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her crack. The leader of the tormentors, a sinister figure with a twisted smile, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey.

"What's the matter, Y/n? Cat got your tongue?" another jeered, causing the trio to burst into mocking laughter. The echoes of their cruelty resonated through the desolate halls, amplifying Y/n's isolation.

Their torment wasn't limited to words alone; the bullies seized every opportunity to strip Y/n of her dignity. One day, they snatched her bag, rifling through its contents like scavengers pillaging a carcass. They tossed her belongings carelessly on the cold floor, savoring the sight of her distress.

On another occasion, the trio targeted Y/n during a public event, exploiting the vulnerability of the crowded space. They humiliated her with disparaging remarks, their malicious words cutting through the air like a relentless storm. Y/n, standing alone amidst the sea of indifferent faces, fought back tears, unwilling to grant them the satisfaction of witnessing her vulnerability.

The torment escalated when the bullies, driven by an insidious desire to break her spirit, attempted to steal Y/n's clothing. The malicious intent behind their actions was clear, pushing her to the brink of despair.

In that harrowing moment, as they tugged at the fabric that shielded her from their malicious intent, Y/n's defenses crumbled. The tears she had fought so hard to contain spilled over, marking her surrender to the relentless darkness that engulfed her.

The bullies reveled in their perceived victory, their laughter echoing like a haunting melody. Y/n, now defenseless and broken, sank to her knees, a shattered reflection of the person she used to be.

Yet, as the trio reveled in their malevolence, the distant echo of approaching footsteps disrupted their sadistic revelry…

The cold corridors of Night Raven College seemed to intensify as the bullies' attention shifted from Y/n to the unexpected intruder, Riddle Rosehearts. The leader of the trio, emboldened by a sense of defiance, sneered, "What's the Heartslabyul housewarden doing, playing the hero? Is this your new pet project, Rosehearts?"

Riddle's stern expression remained steadfast, a protective shield against the barbs directed his way. "I'm enforcing the rules, something you three seem to have forgotten. Now, leave her alone," he retorted, his tone laced with an unyielding edge.

The bullies, undeterred by the stern warning, turned their attention to Riddle, attempting to humiliate him in the same manner they had targeted Y/n. "Maybe Rosehearts has a soft spot for misfits. Or is there something else going on here?" one of them jeered, a malicious glint in their eyes.

Riddle's gaze hardened, but he didn't allow their words to rattle him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, offering her his cape for warmth and comfort. "Ignore them," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the aftermath of the storm.

Y/n, still recovering from the emotional turmoil, met Riddle's eyes with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

Riddle hesitated for a moment, his stern exterior cracking to reveal a hint of sincerity. "No one should be treated like that. Besides, it's my duty as the housewarden of Heartslabyul to enforce the rules," he replied, though the subtle inflection in his voice hinted at a deeper, unspoken truth.

As the bullies persisted in their attempts to tarnish Riddle's reputation, he remained resolute. However, the time for words had passed. With a swift and practiced motion, Riddle invoked his unique magic, "Off with your head," causing ethereal sparks to materialize and collar the bullies as a consequence for their actions.

The trio, now restrained by red head’s signature spell, looked to Riddle with shock and fear. He addressed them with an unwavering gaze. "Learn to respect others, or face the consequences," he declared, his authority unshaken.

Turning back to Y/n, Riddle offered a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about them anymore. Let me help you and walk you to your dorm," he said, a subtle undertone of warmth in his voice.

Riddle thought to himself that the bullies were right. He did have a soft spot for misfits. In particular this misfit. He had always liked Y/n. As they walked to Y/n’s dorm Riddle tried to hide his face, which was now as red as his hair.

In the dimly lit corridor, Leona Kingscholar, the formidable housewarden of Savanaclaw, stood between Y/n and her tormentors. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the bullies, momentarily taken aback, decided to redirect their malice towards the imposing figure that stood before them.

"So, the sleepy lion decides to play the hero," one of the bullies sneered, attempting to mask their unease with false bravado.

Leona's emerald eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping his throat as he stared down the trio. "You've got a problem with how I do things?" he challenged, his voice a menacing rumble that reverberated through the corridor.

The bullies, perhaps underestimating the fierce resolve that lay beneath Leona's laid-back demeanor, stepped back. "Why are you protecting her? Got yourself a new little plaything, housewarden?" one of them jeered, a sinister grin stretching across their face.

Leona's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I protect what's under my care. That's all you need to know," he replied, his words carrying an implicit warning that sent shivers down the spines of the tormentors.

Undeterred, the bullies attempted to taunt him further, their words laced with a futile attempt at intimidation. "Maybe you've got a crush on her, huh?" another one jeered.

Leona's growl intensified, his dominant aura radiating an almost tangible threat. "You're pushing your luck, buddy" he warned, his gaze flickering dangerously.

As the tension escalated, Leona stepped forward, looming over the bullies with an imposing stature that left them visibly unsettled. "Consider this your only warning. Cross me again, and you'll regret it," he asserted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The bullies, realizing the gravity of their situation, hastily retreated, their bravado shattered in the face of Leona's unwavering dominance. As they fled the scene, fear etched across their faces, Leona turned his attention back to Y/n.

"You alright?" he asked, the harsh edges of his demeanor softening as he surveyed her. Y/n, still reeling from the confrontation, nodded silently.

Leona, surprising even himself with the depth of his concern, took a step closer. His hand gently cupped Y/n's cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. "I hate to see this pretty face upset," he murmured to himself, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

As the lion helped pick up Y/n’s stuff from the ground, the situation made him angrier and angrier. He’s going to make sure to teach those punks a lesson tomorrow morning during training.”Got yourself a new little plaything?” those words lingering in Leona’s head. Plaything. He scoffs at the idea. Y/n is so much more than that…

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, the relentless torment aimed at Y/n had attracted the attention of Azul Ashengrotto. As he intervened to protect her, the bullies, recognizing the charismatic housewarden from Octavinelle, shifted their focus to the unexpected adversary.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a hero," one of the bullies scoffed, a malicious glint in his eyes. The leader, emboldened by the presence of a new target, attempted to humiliate Azul. "What's your game, Ashengrotto? Trying to play the savior for this loser?"

Azul's gaze remained unfazed, his smooth composure undeterred. "I suggest you mind your own business," he retorted, his voice carrying a subtle warning. However, the bullies, now fueled by audacity, turned their attention to Y/n once more.

In the face of the renewed onslaught, Azul stepped forward, shielding Y/n with a protective stance. "It seems you're mistaken," he said, directing his attention to Y/n. "This isn't about playing the hero. No one deserves to be treated like this."

The bullies, sensing an unexpected vulnerability in Azul's defense of Y/n, attempted to exploit it. "What's the matter, Ashengrotto? You fancy this loser here?" they sneered, hoping to provoke a reaction.

Azul's gaze flickered, a subtle hint of discomfort betraying his composed exterior. However, he quickly regained his confidence, addressing Y/n with a more reassuring tone. "Don't pay them any mind. Let me take care of this."

Turning back to the bullies, Azul's expression hardened. "You might want to reconsider your actions. I have quite a bit of dirt on both of you, and I'm not afraid to use it. And let's not forget about the Leech Twins—they're always hungry for interesting tidbits."

The mention of the Leech Twins sent a shiver down the bullies' spines, their confidence crumbling in the face of potential repercussions. Sensing their defeat, they slinked away, leaving Azul and Y/n in the now empty corridor.

Azul turned back to Y/n, his usual confidence giving way to a more genuine concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Trash like them need people like us to torment, to make themselves feel better.”

Y/n, still reeling from the emotional turmoil, nodded appreciatively. Azul continued to guide her to the Mostro lounge, knowing she will be safe there. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he displayed moments ago.

As they navigated the halls together, Azul couldn't help but feel a twinge of awkwardness. He was normally confident and composed, but Y/n's presence seemed to unravel his polished exterior. He knows all too well what it’s like to be treated like that. And the thought that Y/n had to endure the same thing made him want to protect her more. Like a precious pearl he can’t stand to share with anyone.

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, Kalim Al-Asim's radiant presence cast a warm glow that contrasted with the shadows of cruelty that clung to the bullies tormenting Y/n. As Kalim approached the scene, unaware of the tension, he couldn't fathom the depths of their malicious intent.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Kalim's voice echoed with genuine curiosity, a beacon of positivity in the oppressive atmosphere.

The leader of the bullies sneered, seizing the opportunity to redirect their malevolence. "Well, well, if it isn't the Scarabian sun himself. What's it to you, Kalim? Lost your little guard dog?"

Kalim chuckled, oblivious to their attempts at humiliation. "Nah, I was just passing by. Just got back from the pop music club. What's got you so worked up?"

Unperturbed, the bullies turned around to face Kalim, attempting to exploit the vulnerability they perceived in his sunny disposition. "Oh, look, he's trying to play the hero. Say, does the housewarden of Scarabia like this little misfit?."

Y/n, still reeling from the earlier torment, looked at Kalim with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. Kalim, however, beamed back, seemingly unaffected by their insinuations.

"What? Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as amazing as Y/n?" Kalim responded, his sincerity disarming in its authenticity.

The bullies persisted, their cruel words attempting to chip away at Kalim's unwavering spirit. "Heh. Do you hear that, Y/n? There’s finally someone willing to put up with your pathetic act of a personality! I guess our little otter here is too stupid to see how worthless you are."

It was when they directed their malice back at Y/n, their words a venomous assault, that Kalim's carefree demeanor faltered. His eyes narrowed, the red glow dimming as a protective instinct took hold.

"Enough is enough," Kalim asserted, his voice carrying an unexpected edge. "You don't get to treat people like this."

Undeterred, the bullies persisted, casting disparaging remarks at both Kalim and Y/n. In response, Kalim maintained his composure, shielding Y/n from the verbal onslaught with unwavering resolve.

When the bullies continued to escalate the situation, Kalim took charge. "That's it. We're done here," he declared, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. He offered a hand to Y/n, helping her to her feet with a reassuring touch.

"Let's get you out of here," Kalim suggested, handing Y/n her scattered belongings. "If you ever feel unsafe, Jamil and I are here for you."

The unease in the bullies' expressions was palpable as they realized their words didn’t affect their targets anymore. Kalim's protective stance and genuine concern for Y/n had disrupted their cruel narrative.

As the bullies slinked away, annoyed by the outcome, Kalim escorted Y/n back to Scarabia. Their walk was filled with moments of comforting silence, punctuated by Kalim's attempts to lighten the mood with his infectious laughter. When Y/n finally gave him a smile back he perked up. “It’s so nice to see you smile again!” The sight gave him new confidence to land a kiss on Y/n’s cheek.

Within the dark corridors of Night Raven College, the tormentors faced an unexpected obstacle in their pursuit of cruelty: Vil Schoenheit. As the charismatic figure stepped into the scene, the bullies exchanged uneasy glances, momentarily thrown off balance by the interference.

"Are you so starved for attention that you resort to tormenting others?" Vil's voice, laced with disdain, sliced through the air. His steely gaze met the bullies', challenging them to proceed.

However, their malevolence knew no bounds. Unwilling to be deterred, the bullies redirected their scorn towards Vil, attempting to humiliate him for daring to protect Y/n. "Look at this, the pretty prince thinks he can play hero. What, do you like the little misfit?" one of them jeered, the venom in his words aimed at both Vil and Y/n.

Vil, however, remained unfazed, ignoring their attempts to provoke him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, helping her up with a gentleness that contradicted the harsh reality they were facing. His fingers delicately corrected her clothing, fixed her tie, and smoothed her tousled hair. Vil's eyes met hers, a silent reassurance passing between them.

"Pay them no mind," he whispered, his breath brushing against Y/n's ear, a gesture that held an undercurrent of intimacy. "They thrive on our reactions."

The bullies, frustrated by Vil's indifference, resorted to physically assaulting Y/n, grabbing her by the shoulder. Before their cruelty could escalate further, Vil's hand shot out like a viper, gripping the offender's wrist with an intimidating strength.

"It's in your best interest to leave," Vil asserted, his voice low and threatening. "I won't tolerate such behavior. Choose wisely."

The bullies, now cowed by the unexpected turn of events, hastily retreated, leaving Vil and Y/n in the aftermath of their confrontation.

Vil escorted Y/n to his dorm, a haven away from the oppressive bullying that had sought to consume her. Inside his room, he offered her a seat and gently handed her a towel, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"Take your time," Vil said softly, his hands meticulously tending to a small cut on Y/n's cheek. "You deserve better than the cruelty of those einzellers."

As Vil carefully cleaned the remnants of the bullying, his thoughts betrayed the secret that he harbored in the depths of his heart. He cared deeply for Y/n, and every gentle touch, every word of reassurance, echoed the silent confession he dared not speak aloud.

"You deserve to be treated with kindness," he murmured. “Just make sure to stay by my side, Y/n.”

The dimly lit corridor was transformed into a battleground as Idia Shroud stepped forward, his normally reserved demeanor overshadowed by an unexpected fierceness. The bullies, accustomed to preying on the vulnerable, saw an opportunity to assert dominance over someone they perceived as even weaker — the introverted Idia.

"You think you can protect her?" one of the bullies taunted, a malicious smirk on his face. "What's the weakling going to do?"

Idia, his disheveled hair falling over his determined eyes, stood defiantly, shielding Y/n from the impending storm. The bullies, sensing a perceived vulnerability, closed in on the pair, their laughter echoing through the corridor.

"Why are you even bothering, Shroud? What's in it for you?" another bully jeered, the air thick with arrogance.

Y/n's heart sank, anticipating the onslaught of mockery that was about to befall them both. Idia, feeling the weight of their poisonous words, clenched his fists, his usual anxiety exacerbated by the confrontation.

"Why would someone like you bother to protect her?" another bully chimed in, his tone dripping with contempt. "She's not worth it, and you're just making yourself look like more of a loser."

The bullies, emboldened by their perceived victory, closed in on Idia and Y/n. The pressure intensified, and Y/n's distress became palpable. Idia, however, couldn't bear to see her suffer any longer.

In a moment of unexpected defiance, the blue flames in Idia's hair intensified, shifting to a fiery orange. The air crackled with newfound energy as Idia's eyes blazed with determination. He had reached his breaking point.

"What do you know about worth?" Idia snapped, his usually timid voice cutting through the tension like a samurai sword. "You think you can just waltz around, tormenting others without consequence? Well, think again."

The bullies, now faced with an Idia they hadn't anticipated, faltered as he unleashed a verbal onslaught more cutting than their own. "You want to mock me? Fine. But lay off her. You have no idea what it's like to be her, to carry the weight of your cruelty every day."

As his words hung in the air, Idia's threat escalated. "And if you don't back off right now, I'll make sure your precious devices become my playground. Hacking is my specialty, and trust me, I can make your lives a living nightmare."

The bullies, genuinely frightened by the unexpected turn of events, retreated in haste, leaving Idia and Y/n alone in the aftermath of the confrontation. As the echoes of their footsteps faded, Idia's fiery aura subsided, returning to the familiar blue and turned his attention to Y/n.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as he reached out to gently wipe away the tears that still clung to her cheeks.

Y/n nodded, a mixture of gratitude and admiration in her eyes. "Thank you, Idia. I didn't expect..."

Idia cut her off with a dismissive wave. "It's not like I did it for you or anything. I just couldn't stand their stupidity."

As the tension eased, Idia reverted to his introverted self, a visible anxiety settling over him. "I... um, well, I should go. Just forget about it," he mumbled, glancing away.

But as he turned to leave, Y/n caught his hand. "Idia, wait. Thank you," she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "You didn't have to do that, but you did."

Idia's eyes met hers, a subtle warmth beneath the layers of his usual aloofness. "Just don't make it a habit of needing my help," he quipped, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Even though those words escaped his blue lips, in his heart he hoped that Y/n would come to him in her days of need.

In the gloomy halls of Night Raven College, the three Savanaclaw bullies tried to justify their actions as mere play, their voices faltering under Malleus Draconia's piercing gaze. "We were just messing around, no harm intended," one of them stammered, attempting to downplay the cruelty they had inflicted upon Y/n.

Malleus, his patience exhausted, snapped his fingers. In an instant, the bullies were suspended above the ground. The Diasomnia housewarden wasted no time; his eyes met Y/n's, and the look on her face spoke volumes. This was not mere play; it was torment.

Outside, the atmosphere shifted, echoing Malleus's wrath. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared, a visceral manifestation of the storm brewing within him. The bullies, now terrified, were at the mercy of the fae prince's judgment.

With a graceful motion Malleus offered Y/n a hand to help her up. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chilling air of the college. "Are you hurt?" he asked, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

Y/n shook her head, grateful for Malleus's intervention. As they stood together, the fae prince surveyed the bullies with a cold, calculating gaze. "Explain yourselves," he demanded, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

The bullies, now realizing the gravity of their actions, stumbled over their words. Malleus's patience waned, and with another snap of his fingers, he immobilized them once more, this time freezing their levitating bodies.

Turning back to Y/n, Malleus took a step closer, his eyes softening as he surveyed the emotional toll the ordeal had taken on her. "I can make them feel the pain they inflicted upon you, Y/n," he offered, his voice low and filled with restrained fury.

Y/n, however, shook her head again, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and reluctance. "No, Malleus. I don't want that."

Respecting her wishes, Malleus released the bullies, who fell to the ground with a thud before scrambling to flee. The housewarden, however, wasn't finished. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Y/n's scattered belongings, collecting them with a gentle sweep of his hand.

"Allow me," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he gathered her things. Malleus, his expression softening, lifted Y/n into his arms, carrying her bridal style.

As they navigated the corridors, Malleus's gaze remained on Y/n, a silent promise of protection and comfort. "No one should be subjected to such cruelty," he stated, his voice a low growl.

Once they reached a more secluded spot, Malleus gently set Y/n down. "If ever you need someone to shield you from the shadows, know that I am here," he confessed, his eyes revealing the depth of his emotions.

The lingering thunder outside echoed the storm within Malleus, but his gaze softened, and a hint of vulnerability appeared as he regarded Y/n. "Do you feel safe now?"

Y/n nodded “T-thank you, Malleus… You’re my savior.” Upon seeing her smile Malleus felt his worries wash away. To reflect this new found emotion the storms outside seem to lay down, making way for the sun to reveal its face once again. Malleus kneeled before her, cupping her face in his hand. “I won’t let anyone harm you ever again.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al-asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #reader insert #twst x reader #this came to be because of my nightmare last night about my bullies from high school #if only a pretty boy would save me then LOL #this is just me reflecting just let me be #vil is such a gentleman i love him so much!!!!#i could do the vice housewardens too if people like to see more!#Tomorrow finally arrives my matras. no more couch!

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