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representshinjuku · 9 months

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Three Hearts as One (三心同体）

“One way to the champ

There’s no way out

One way to the champ

There’s a reason to fight”

[All]

We’re going to the next level

And that’s the reason why we can’t lose this battle

You can’t shake our unity,

We stand three hearts as one

[Samatoki]

Now turn tail and run, you Shibuya dogs

This headshot’s your warning

Lawlessness is my rule

Running around the playground really suits you

Some used-up tool’s gonna pick a fight with me?

Forget it, I’ll take you out

I don’t give a shit what your reasons are

I’m just doing what I’ve gotta do–hunting you

Raising ‘Hama’s banner of revolt,

Three hearts as one

[Dice]

Always pinching up our brows?

Nah, we’ll hit straight through your hyped-up pride

Hiding nervous sweat under my poker face

I see right through you, I’m calling doubt on you fakes

[Gentaro]

Intimidation poured into your flowery lyrics

But your fear flickers clear through the facade

In one of my novels, you’d remain unnamed

Destined to die as such

[Dice]

A little bird like you better

Give it a nice long cry from inside your cage

[Gentaro]

You little rabbit of fables

What awaits you is ah, a tragic fate

[Dice]

Hama’s gettin’ some safety scissors

[Gentaro]

You no longer need your mad trigger

[Gentaro & Dice]

Dice and Gentaro, writing your last rites

Fling Posse rising to the top

Shibuya is greatest

We stand three hearts as one

[Jyuto]

You’re a writer who only knows fiction

Wet your bed and lie in it

This won’t end in just your arrest

Counting down to your destruction

[Rio]

Back to square one; this is my unshakable foundation

A gambler throwing a tantrum over the counter

Gets crushed by this verse

[Jyuto]

You plan to deceive me with lies?

Come crying teary-eyed begging for money?

[Rio]

If you kneel begging for forgiveness

I’ll let you taste my wonderful dishes again

[Jyuto]

Your face is an eyesore

[Rio]

I’m tired of your pretending

[Jyuto & Rio]

Don’t talk so cheaply of bonds

Yokohama is a monolith

MAD TRIGGER CREW, Shibuya goes down to

Three hearts as one

[Ramuda]

So scawy, scawy, you three of a kind

You’re real funny so keep up the jokes!

If you pick a fight halfheartedly then

In return should I crush your everything?

Yakuza, cop, soldier, ‘Hama’s garbage

You’re so annoying, I can’t share the stage with you

Gonna knock you on your back and open the path

Get outta the way, weaklings

C’mon and wave Fling Posse’s flag,

Three hearts as one

[All]

One way to the champ

We’ll seize glory with our disses

“We gotta go”

Towards the top

“No way out”

It’s kill or be killed until one of us falls

“We gotta go”

Or else this all means nothing

“Right here, right now”

To the next; Cutting deep, fighting head on

Burning with passion through our words

(Rhyming like nobody else has)

To the next; The strength of our bonds will carry us through (one way)

There’s a reason to fight; we’ll settle things three hearts as one

(Walking a road nobody else has)

Can’t stop ‘til we die!

[Rio]

The bullet wound, the heart to shoot

You’re naive to the pain of both

Though you’re blind in this abyss

It’s time to grovel in the mud, Posse

[Dice]

Gotta say thanks for feeding me but

Until this battle’s over I’ll have to pass

Playin’ around like a military maniac

Time for you to withdraw from the front lines

[Jyuto]

If you’re in the red, then you turn it to black

That’s nothing but simple winner’s logic

You’re a disgusting public enemy

Shall I erase you from society?

[Gentaro]

What is a lie and what is real?

An officer of the law wearing masks of good and evil

Without time to mourn–

Shall I ring the bell that tolls the end

[Samatoki]

Don’t come at me like you’ve learned something, stupid

Shut your damn mouth and choke on your empty words

Breakin’ down your pretty words and fake justice

I’ll show you your last vision

[Ramuda]

Yeah, witnessing threats at the scene of the crime

This means I’ve gotta give you a pat-down exam

Your lawlessness is on parade

Can’t let you run free anymore, stupid

[Samatoki]

Get outta my sight Ramuda, you damn brat

I’m never gonna forgive you

Your damn manipulations ain’t gonna shake ‘Hama

I’m gonna be the one settling things here

[Ramuda]

Huh? Who gave you the right to talk, Samatoki?

Your superficial anger’s a real eyesore!

If you mess with Shibuya, you get eliminated

You can’t invade our sanctuary

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

Shout out with thundering anger–Rise up, rise up

[Fling Posse]

Together in the same boat–Open it up, open it up

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

We’ll take it all, Mad Trigger Crew

[Fling Posse]

We won’t give way, we’re Fling Posse

[All]

Crush the enemy before you and forge ahead one way

Our bonds are greater than any sum

Break all; Hypnosis Mic

There’s a reason to fight here and now,

A conflict of interest

One way to the champ

We’ll seize glory with our disses

“We gotta go”

Towards the top

“No way out”

It’s kill or be killed until one of us falls

“We gotta go”

Or else this all means nothing

“Right here, right now”

To the next; Cutting deep, fighting head on

Burning with passion through our words

(Rhyming like nobody else has)

To the next; The strength of our bonds will carry us through (one way)

Sorry but we’re not backing down; we’re betting all our will and pride

There’s a reason to fight,

We’ll settle things three hearts as one

(Walking a road nobody else has)

Can’t stop ‘til we die!

We’re going to the next level

And that’s the reason why we can’t lose this battle

Rhyming like nobody else has

[MAD TRIGGER CREW]

We’ll take it all, Mad Trigger Crew

[Fling Posse]

We won’t give way, we’re Fling Posse

[All]

“One way to the champ”

Walking a road nobody else has

You can’t shake our unity,

We stand three hearts as one

#rule the stage #FP v MTC #fling posse #mad trigger crew #sanshindoutai #three hearts as one #hypstagetl #koutranslates

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theateared · 4 years

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What’s Wrong With You? ❜

Summary: There's a reason that Murr’s career is almost entirely self-made. Warnings: N/A.

His eyes were drawn to the sticky mess covering the floor. What was left of his pudding cup had been smacked out of his hands, plastic spoon snapping painfully under the weight of a hefty palm. With disbelief, Murr shifted his gaze to look his manager in the face.

“What the hell? What’s WRONG with you?! I was just tryna enjoy a snack befer gettin’ back t’work!”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with YOU?! You know that stuff will only make you fat. We’ve had this conversation a million times!”

The words stung more than he cared to admit-- not necessarily because of their implication, but because of his own struggle with an eating disorder. It had taken him a hell of a long time to get into good habits, and though he wouldn’t fall back into bad ones for the sake of one comment, it did make the gears in his head turn in that all-too-malignant manner.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe one cup won’t matter, but one cup everyday? Maybe that will matter.

After taking in a subtle breath, steadying the slight incline of his heartbeat, he replied in a calm but firm tone: “Yer bang outta line, Zach. However ya feel, ya can’t just go hittin’ shit I paid fer outta my hands.” He cut his manager off with a tut as he spotted a dark stain forming on his shirt. “Yeesh, y’owe me dry-cleanin’ money...”

The sound of the dressing-room door slamming shut made Murr look up at him. Only now was he beginning to feel slightly worried.

Zach hadn’t been his first choice for a professional opinion. However, when they’d met while he was working in Vide, the man had wormed his way into Murr’s good graces with his patience and humour. On the surface, he was mild-mannered and fun, somewhat quirky to boot, but Murr had soon realised that he wasn’t really the person that he thought he was. His fuse was short, he was a control freak, always wanting to micromanage every tiny decision he made about his productions, and he was aggressive. Though he’d never laid his hands on him, Murr suspected that that much would change - and he wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re just so fuckin’ UNGRATEFUL! You think you can do whatever you want just because some people know who you are! You eat shite! You don’t take care of yourself! You drink and smoke like an idiot! You don’t think that shit’s going to ruin your look? Your VOICE?”

“Listen, yer not my fuckin’ dad. Back off ‘n’ mind yer own damn business, alright? I ain’t yer DOG, Zach, y’can’t tell me how t’live.” He turned his back on the man then, eager for the argument to fizzle out. Hands searched his desk for his revised script, darting past a celebratory bottle of champagne for after the show. Part of him knew that it likely wasn’t a good idea to show him that he’d made some last-minute changes to the play, but he was desperate to divert the focus elsewhere. He couldn’t stand being talked down to like a child. Not even his father spoke to him that way. “Look, I have some--”

“I don’t CARE, Murr!” He lurched forwards to slap the papers out of his hands, scattering them across the floor. The star stared at him at a loss for words, mouth half-open in a desperate attempt to neutralise the situation, when suddenly Zach’s hands entangled in his collar. He pulled him closer with a vehemence that startled the huro, horns bumping against his forehead as he was met with a furious glare. It smelled as if his manager had been drinking, a hint of whiskey hovering on his breath. “What do I have to do to get you to fuckin’ listen?”

“Let go’a me…!”

“YOU’RE SABOTAGING YOURSELF!”

“GET OFF OF ME!” His voice was shrill as he shoved hard at Zach’s shoulders. The man staggered away from him - and the momentum sent Murr staggering back into the dresser, an arm stuck out haphazardly to support himself. The adrenaline had kicked in by now; he felt like a bird trapped in a cage, one that flapped and cawed and squealed, and his father’s words ran through his head like a strike of lightning.

You know your worth, son. Always be kind, always be generous, but don’t bend.

Murr’s gaze darkened. You don’t treat me like that. Nobody treats me like that. I’m not something for somebody else to control. Slowly, he straightened his stance, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steel his nerves before he pointed at him firmly. “Don’t ever lay yer hands on me again.” His voice dripped with venom so potent that it gave the drunk man a moment’s pause. He couldn’t tell whether he was affronted by being told what to do or if he was seriously considering the fact that he was wrong-- and he didn’t care.

At least, he didn’t until Zach squared his shoulders and advanced on him. “Or what, huh? What’re you gonna do? Don’t forget that YOU’RE in MY debt! Who’s gettin’ your name out here in Vide, huh?”

“I AM!” Murr retorted angrily, a thumb jabbing into his own chest as he glowered at him without restraint. If looks could kill, a glare from Murr would send a man straight to hell. “Don’t take the credit fer MY hard work! I’M the one singin’ ‘n’ dancin’ ‘n’ writin’ ‘n’ performin’ like a goddamn grease-monkey! This shit is MINE!”

“Like you’d ever get anywhere in Vide without a Vvder’s help!” Zach bit back, getting closer to him with every step. I’m going to punch this huro’s teeth in. I’m going to bend his stupid fucking horns until they snap. “You’re NOTHING here! You huros are all the goddamn same-- you’re all so PROUD.”

“Get away from me, Zach.”

“You’re all so EAGER to KISS YOUR OWN ASSES! You all pretend to work hard, but the only things you’re ‘fixing’ are the problems that you made yourselves, because your district is founded on false generosity and LAZINESS--”

“That’s NOT true!” Murr barked. Really, this realm wasn’t a great one. Though it was wondrous and beautiful, with surprises at every corner, things that could never be found on Earth, its people were so angry and hateful. Though Valor’s quest had done a lot to quell a lot of bigotry, it also wasn’t magically erased in one day. There was still a lot of work to be done-- which was precisely why Murr felt it appropriate to defend his district. It wasn’t out of patriotism; it was a direct response to a racist ideology that viders perpetuated every day. Even in spite of The Crossover, their districts very much conjoined at this point, some viders still fed each other the same dastardly lies like Nazis did with Jews.

Unacceptable. Disgusting. And what makes it worse is that you yourself are doing it. There’s no Big Bad making you think these things, or say these things-- you’re just terrible, and unwilling to learn.

Distracted, he fell when Zach’s hands met his chest in the form of a hard shove. For all of the grace that he possessed on stage, he tumbled to the ground like a sack of bricks, confused and dazed, staring up at him with a stupefied sort of silence. His manager wasn’t a very imposing man. He was a little smaller than him, and his stature was nothing to write home about, skinny like a weed; however, towering above him like that, with the intention of hurting him, Murr’s fight-or-flight response kicked in. Just as Zach drew back his arm for a punch, Murr hurriedly reached up, fingers coiling around the thick glass of the bottle and dragging it into his lap. Without even thinking about it, he hit it against the leg of his dresser, splintering the glass and spilling champagne all over himself and the floor. The jagged end was brandished like a weapon, teeth grit in a furious sneer, malicious intent clear.

In a fierce scream: “I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME--”

The dressing room fell silent then. The lights surrounding his vanity mirror were the only source of illumination ( he found it easier to proof-read and edit in dimmer places ), their space bathed in a baby pink glow. In any other context, one might have deemed it romantic; instead, Murr regarded it with the same quiet dread that he might a red room.

Slowly, Zach raised his hands, backing off. “... I’m drunk.”

“You’re fired,” Murr hissed in response, trying hard to hold back the urge to cry. Far from a crybaby he was, but adrenaline had a funny way of reducing him to tears. He was overwhelmed when it kicked in; torn between lashing out in furious anger and crumpling in on himself with unrelenting sorrow. He’d always been emotional like that. “Just go.”

“But--”

“I said GO!” He didn’t think about it as he hurled what remained of the glass into the nearby wall. The noise startled the other into a hasty retreat, the door barely flung shut as he disappeared from Murr’s life for good.

In the newfound quiet, Murr sat still. Slowly, he brought his knees up to his chest, chin settling atop them as his arms coiled around them like a snake. He didn’t cry. He didn’t yell. He didn’t work. He just sat there, willing his heartbeat to slow down, willing his eyes not to fill up, willing himself not to run back home to his parents now that his dream was almost within his grasp. They had too much faith in his ability to abandon the position he’d found himself in. Manager or not, he’d make his way in this district, and he’d do it despite all of the naysayers that expressed their doubt in him.

You can’t make it in Vide without a vider’s help, huro. Fuck that. I can do it.

After a few minutes to collect his bearings, hands no longer shaking, Murr slowly unfurled from his position on the floor, hands and knees climbed to as he searched for the pages his ex-manager had struck out of his grasp.

His heart sank when he was met something wet and soggy.

With mounting grief, the star slowly turned one of the sodden pages over. It fell to bits in his grasp, ink that had formed words now a blurred mess. He didn’t need to look at the others to know that they had all met a similar fate.

Tiredly, Murr sank back into his previous position, huddled in front of his dresser, the rosy light only touching the tips of his shoes; a black mark in the blushing light.

The show’s tomorrow morning. I’m screwed.

#🞮 — i think you're gonna be my biggest fan! ❜ ( murr. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ JUST SOME DEETS ON ONE OF MURR'S PAST VENTURES!#AND HIS DICKHEAD OF A MANAGER AT THE TIME!#THSI IS THE FIRST PROPER THING I'VE WRITTEN IN A WHILE AYYY #might be gettin over that block!

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it-is-reigning-men · 7 years

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Have this piece of my Shield Boys Smut shot cause it's taking me 100 years to write [Uncomplete]:

Summary: In which Seth and Dean can finally see eye to eye in taking care of their big man, Roman. Said man’s been stressing and working way too hard as of late, and the remedy is some relaxation and letting the other boys make a few decisions for him.

Or the one where Seth and Dean both top Roman, out of love.

—

Tags: Smut, Ambrolleigns, Rolleigns, Ambreigns, Negotiated kinks, sensual massage, choking (whoops), breath play, sexy times all over, everyone is a switch dom/sub but this is all about Sub!Roman

—

They always said they were the workhorses of the division back in the Shield days— the boys also said they never had a problem with that.

It was 2016, going on 2017 and a certain member of the infamous trio had been having issues with balancing relaxation time and work time — and it had been showing in his actions. The miracle about it was WWE was giving them all New Year’s weekend off, because, well, they at least got Holidays.

Seth and Roman could now comfortably sit by each other on the plane ride back, since they were both buddy-buddy again, and were rather cozy in first class.

Only Roman kept shifting in his seat, eyebrows furrowed as he brooded out the window.

“What? You don’t like the window seat?”

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Just…”

Seth frowned at the stumbled answer, crossing his arms.

“Spit it out, Rome.”

“M’ just sore… is all.”

The Architect gave the arm closest to him a joking squeeze.

“You have been pretty tense lately. And you’ve been making that face,”

Roman wet his lips and made an effort to ease his forehead, eyebrows finally relaxing into their normal resting expression.

“You’re gonna get wrinkles.”

Roman snorted at Seth’s petty little beauty advice.

After a beat Seth tried an easier approach. Roman had been on edge enough as it was.

“Hey, when we get to your place, I promise I’ll help you let loose a little bit, yeah?” A coy little smirk accompanied the words, and Seth was sure that would get him somewhere.

“Aren’t you heading to your folks?”

Clearly Roman wasn’t in it to catch the drift.

“It’s New Year’s Eve… Eve. I’m heading over the next day, but I wanna be with you first. Just us.”

Roman had only realized then that they did have a full two days before New Year’s actually hit; and the words had finally settled— made him feel all fuzzy, too.

Shaking his head as he exhaled, Roman threw Seth a side-long glance.

“Alright. Then… I’d be happy to have the company,” The big dog chuckled half-heartedly, leaning fully back into his seat.

Before the ride was done Seth leaned toward the latter, nearly settling on his shoulder, to mutter.

“Lemme give you a massage to get all those kinks outta your muscles, okay, Big Dog? That’ll get your mind off things.”

The connotation was much different that time— since this time Roman just might’ve understood what Seth was implying.

…

“Damn, Ro, you’re fuckin’ tense all over.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Don’t talk.”

“Then don’t talk to m— mmh— fuck. Right there.”

Seth pressed down on the tender spot on Roman’s lower back, making small circles with his fingers, causing the one beneath him to sink further into the mattress, nuzzling his face into the pillow he was hugging to muffle the pleasurable noises trying to come up.

Smirking, Seth stopped, sliding one of his lotion slicked hands up Roman’s spine, twirling a section of the latter’s hair and giving it a soft tug. He didn’t care if Roman got mad at him getting a tiny bit of lotion in it. He could wash it out like a big boy.

Roman blinked in surprise, his body having been completely lax just moment before.

“Hey, Ro..?” Seth scooted up slightly from where he was seated on Roman’s thighs, legs on either side of the larger male’s body.

“If you want me to continue, you’re gonna have to let me know it feels good.”

Roman swallowed, eyebrows knitting together as he felt Seth’s fingers move in his hair, fist tightening slightly.

“I thought you said not to talk,” Roman grumbled, apparently still irritable. Or perhaps curious as to what Seth’s mindset was at the moment.

“Without words, Roman.”

At the sharp command, Seth shifted again, situating himself so the crotch of his gray sweatpants pressed against the latter’s ass- just so he knew he was there. One hand stayed in Roman’s hair and he used his other palm to knead into the same spot on Roman’s back again, harder this time.

“Lemme hear it.” Seth encouraged, continuing his ministrations but untangling his fingers from the long locks of hair to rake his nails down Roman’s tan back.

Roman suddenly felt so incredibly warm; the words that were so subtly enticing mixed with the skillful dance of hands on his body and those somehow irritatingly unmoving hips pushed down against him… felt his heart beat a few paces quicker but sooner felt his lips part to release a low sigh- a noise that briefly cracked at the beginning before rolling out into a silky little groan.

At least two minutes of pure petrissage passed, Seth never being too gentle since he knew Roman enjoyed more pressure when it came to kneading his muscles. The Architect would part his fingers gradually as he rubbed up and down, evoke longer but quieter moans then before going to use his knuckles to get the particularly knotted areas to be rewarded with harsher, half pained groans.

He might’ve stopped being so persistent in staying on those spots if it weren’t for the way Roman unconsciously clutched onto the covers and licked his plump lips after each of those deep whimpers.

He’d known for a while Roman was a bit of a masochist. And this was only a partial pain sensation…

Letting his mind wander, Seth finally dipped beneath the region he’d been caring for, his thumbs venturing below the waist line of Roman’s briefs, other fingers cradling either side of the latter’s hip bones, and experimentally massaging just above his firm butt. He wanted so badly to just take that last article of clothing off already, but he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to wait –

As he gulped, keeping his composure, Roman coyly curved his back, incidentally pressing his behind more against Seth’s hardening manhood. Nobody was playing around here.

“This still just a massage, Rollins?” Roman rumbled, voice sounding groggy.

Ouch, last name, huh?

“I don’t know, are you enjoying it?”

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate question,” Roman moved his hips again, feeling himself rubbing against the hardness scarcely obscured by the fabric of Seth’s sweats - not to mention he’d made sure to be commando when he’d changed into them upon getting into the house.

“You’re being pretty submissive for the guy that was happy to fuck me into the mattress last week.”

Roman moved again, now hugging the pillow so his voice was muffled again, just to annoy Seth. Because yeah, maybe this was karma for all those times Seth had been just as irking.

“I didn’t say I was gonna let you put it in. Don’t get cocky.”

Seth had unknowingly rutted himself against Roman’s inviting movements, but bit down on his own lip as he leant forward to grab the pillow away from the larger male. Roman let out a surprisingly cute ‘oof’ as he readjusted to lay his cheek on crossed arms, glaring back at Seth as he tossed the pillow to the side.

“-Was that pun intended?” Seth snorted, eyes narrowed dangerously even though there was laughter on his lips. His body leaned down again, their pair of eyes locking until Roman couldn’t meet them anymore, since Seth’s head went out of peripheral view to lay kisses along Roman’s broad shoulders.

Seth was starting to consider just moving things along at this point; grinding into the pliable body underneath him and getting a little high off the feeling of having control over the guy that never stayed down– in the ring, at least.

But, since the stars were somehow aligned today, Seth picked up the sound of a door shutting, and some bags being dropped onto the wooden floors out in the living room.

Roman noticed too, if his immediately tensed body was any sign.

Seth was quick to push his fully spread hand to the center of Roman’s back, speaking to him before Roman went and flipped him right off his form.

“Relax. You trust me, right?”

Roman’s eyes looked back at Seth again, who was sitting straight with his head tilted casually to look right down to those dark eyes in return.

Fleeting doubts fly through Roman’s mind, only a moment considering a less favorable answer before snapping back to now – Seth wasn’t the same as he was this time last year – and nodded once before the bedroom door opened as well.

“Took you damn long enough.”

“Looks like you’re gettin’ along just fine without me,”

The rugged voice was unmistakable, and Roman instantaneously felt the rush of excitement pulse through him, though his snarky little question might’ve felt otherwise.

“I thought you said ‘just us,’ on the plane?” But he wasn’t really complaining.

Seth shrugged, unstraddling Roman (albeit a bit reluctantly) to allow him to roll onto his back just in time to be caged in by Dean’s arms.

The lunatic’s nose nearly touched Roman’s, and the pair certainly looked like two men who hadn’t gotten any quality time together in a few months, eyes sparkling and all that.

“Aw, that supposed to mean you aren’t happy to see me, Ro?”

“Just… surprised is all.” And Roman had that warm, wide smile stretching his cheeks, and only then Seth noticed Roman was actually looking at him.

It’s like Roman always knew how to perfectly distribute those affectionate looks- just so everyone in this mess always felt included.

“Enough of the sappy looks, I’m here, and I’d like to catch up with you hormonal teenagers,” Dean sent both Seth and Roman’s premature erections teasing glances, wriggling out of his leather jacket, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants but not taking them off just yet.

Dean sat back on his calves, feet hanging off the edge of the bed. Roman propped himself up on his elbows to look between the other two.

They came to a brief stand-still, before Roman went and asked.

“So, how are we doing this?”

In polyamorous relationships, intimate times required communication – and in a relationship where none of them were really solidified in their positions, it really needed communication.

The thought was simple to Roman, but Dean was giving him a weird look while Seth quietly placed his hand on one of Roman’s thighs.

“Seth didn’t tell you?” Dean’s crooked smile melted into something more suggestive, dimples accentuated as he flashed Roman his white teeth.

“We planned this to help you loosen up. You been stressin’ and overthinking yourself so…”

Roman opened his smirking mouth to retort, brows furrowed in offense, only Dean covered his lips with a searing kiss– not wasting time with soft pecks and getting right down to tongue and teeth to let himself into Roman’s wet cavern.

And Roman hadn’t kissed Dean in long enough, he let it happen, his rigid body wanting to relax into the rough, but familiar make out session.

Dean parted, keeping himself only centimeters away and letting them stay in an almost suffocating shared space, breaths clashing each other’s.

“We’re gonna dominate you tonight. All you gotta do is relax, and stop thinking, because we’re gonna think for you, Big Dog.” Dean purred, hands tightening on the wrists Roman hadn’t fully realized were pinned down.

It was like his body knew something he didn’t – and everything the two had done so far was exactly what he needed.

“And we’re only gonna make you do things you’ll like, trust me.” Seth piped in, partially satisfied by the summary Dean had provided of the plans they’d texted about. Seth’s hand squeezed around Roman’s thigh muscles, always having loved how thick his body was.

“No spewing non-sense scripts, no shitty crowds, just you and us.” His hand only slides higher with every syllable, now, and he watches intently as Roman’s unsure but desire-clouded eyes stared up at the ceiling while Dean freely peppered Roman’s collar bones with more kisses.

“Just like before, we wanna hear the real you.” Seth whispered, hand snaking around Roman’s now throbbing erection.

Typically, Dean wouldn’t want to be spoken for, but he didn’t exactly have any objections here. He licked wet frames around Roman’s perked nipples, giving the right one a kitten lick before blowing cold air on it, just at the same time as he witnessed Seth give the big man a few good pumps.

“F-Fuck…” Roman’s Adams apple bobbed beautifully as he trembled, and Dean’s eyes darted to it, fingers giving the other nipple a hard pinch.

Roman could already feel coherency slipping away, eyes shutting, and they’d only just gotten started; it made him briefly consider just how much he wanted this because… holy hell, it sounded so good. Letting both his boys take over his body and let any thing else slip away.

Seth continued to stroke him under his briefs, the tension of having his hand shoved in them making the fabric strain and press up against the back of Roman’s thighs, cradling his bottom. He climbed between the space of Roman’s legs now, nudging the knees further open to have Roman in an even more vulnerable position.

Dean was loving the view of Roman’s tiny facial changes that sprung from each movement between the three of them; deciding now was the time to step it up, Dean leisurely dragged his short nails down the tattooed side of Roman’s chest, relishing the light red streaks that were left behind, even as they were slightly hidden by the dark ink there.

“This is why you keep the vest, right, Ro..?” Dean chuckled darkly, pressing his chin down in the dip of Roman’s pecks, playfully rubbing his short beard against it—it was new, but he’d personally always appreciated the extra stimulation a little beard burn had always provided in the past, whether it was Roman or Seth.

“..S..hut up,” Roman tried to snap back, but it came out breathy, since Seth had just shifted him so the head of his cock was sticking out of the waist band of his boxers, still getting stroked at a steady pace that was gradually becoming maddening.

Dean grinned, lewdly backing up to lick from the top of Roman’s abs to his chest again, warm tongue swirling both nubs before he nipped at them gently, giving a small tug here and there just to see Roman twitch; he’d kiss and lick and blow on them, stubble of his beard grazing the tender skin; suck tiny spots around his tattoo, then undo any doting actions with light rakes of his nails.

Between all the dull pain and the pleasure, Roman was panting out quiet obscenities of ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, or an alternation of their names, and his back was arching off the plush bed.

But it wasn’t long before it wasn’t quite enough, and Roman felt like he was being edged on purpose.

“Seth – just take ‘em off already,” He hisses, but a chill runs up his spine as Seth gives his manhood a squeeze at the base, and Dean’s fingers dance along his throat, loosely curling around. They’d done choking before, and if it ever got out of hand they knew all they need do is tap. It hadn’t been necessary yet.

“You didn’t say please, baby,” Dean murmurs against Roman’s cheek, keeping his fingers loose.

Roman wets his lips, which are already swollen from his own biting on them. Swallowing down a bit of pride in the way he’s sure he’s about to sound, as opposed to his typical macho act, his eyes open to flicker at Dean and then down to Seth – who chooses now as the perfect moment to flit the tip of his tongue against the head of Roman’s cock.

“…Please… gh .. please take em off already.“

"That’s a good boy,” Dean teased, giving Roman’s heated cheeks a light peck, but finally giving the throat under his hand a squeeze in response to the way Roman tried turned his head away.

Though it might’ve looked bad, Roman struggled out a moan, the noise sounding against his will — but absolutely of his own accord. He didn’t know what it was about that sensation of having air sucked into your lungs - not impossible but strained - the exhilarating danger mixing with the blood-racing pleasure as Seth tongued the slit of his erection.

All this while Dean continued spilling words, the fingers around Roman’s neck fluctuating between firm hugs and light pressure whenever he could feel the larger male’s chest heave in warning of another moan.

“…You’d get a kick out my old collar from CZW. I knew I kept it for something.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered shut, the thought of Dean tugging on the chain attached to that leather collar muttering pet-like obscenities making him shudder again.

Seth’s mouth finally closed around him, eagerly taking down a good half of his girthy length but only giving it light, almost useless sucks. Not that Roman didn’t feel every move of that tongue, or vibrations of the groans coming up from Seth’s throat — but it wasn’t /enough/.

Roman bucked up his hips; Seth must’ve been expecting it, because he moved his head up slightly, before delving back down again and taking in more this time, sucking harsher now, saliva collecting at the corners of his mouth.

Roman relished in being rewarded — but it was short lived when Dean slithered on top of him, straddling his waist all while keeping a hand on his throat.

Dean’s hips were enough to hold his own down, that slender waist holding surprising strength.

“Woah, woah, pup. Nobody said you could do that.”

The nickname seemed to flow flawlessly off Dean’s tongue, his gruff voice dragging the cute word through the mud. He loosened his grip completely around Roman’s neck, almost forgetting the relevance of air with how blissed out the man underneath him looked. Gasping and taking a hearty breath, Roman licked his lips and refocused his dark eyes on the blue ones above him; Dean had released his neck but deftly continued petting over Roman’s Adam’s apple with his thumb.

“Who owns you..?”

Seth’s throat pressed against the tip of Roman’s member just as Dean asked, so instead of replying Roman just bit his lower lip and grunted— eyes closing again.

“Who owns you?” Dean repeated, moving one hand to absently trace the shoulder of Roman’s tattoo and the other to bed space beside his head.

“Hh— th– the business,” Roman muttered, voice cracking off like a dying flame as it tried to still force back the loud noises he wanted to make as Seth bobbed on him, throat constricting around it every few moments. It was obvious Roman hadn’t even realized how wrong the words that came out of his mouth were— of course, Dean did.

… To be continued soon babes c:

#ambrolleigns #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe fandom #ambreigns #rolleigns #smut fic #sub roman #sub!roman

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