Ambam

The party had died down a few hours ago.

The thumping bass and laughter fading into memory as the two of you stumbled back into the luxury of the hotel suite. The sudden silence was almost jarring after the chaos downstairs. Just the soft click of the door lock and the faint hum of the air conditioning.

Jimmy kicked the door shut behind you with a heavy thud, his arm slung low and possessive around your waist. He pulled you flush against his side, unable to stand even an inch of space between you.

He was definitely feeling the drinks. That lazy, bright grin on his face, eyes dark and heavier than usual. There was a slight sway in his step as he walked you backward toward the living room couch. He was still in the black shorts he’d thrown on after the event, the thin material riding low on his hips. The scent of his spicy cologne mixed with the faint trace of liquor and sweat from the night. It clung to his skin, warm and intoxicating.

You weren’t much better.

The rum and whatever else Jimmy had been putting in your hand all night had you warm and giggly. Your body humming with that perfect, hazy buzz that made everything feel a little more electric. Your skin felt extra sensitive. Every brush of his fingers on your hip sending little sparks straight down your spine. Your dress felt too tight, your thighs too warm where they rubbed together with each step.

Jimmy dropped onto the couch first, pulling you straight down into his lap so you were straddling one of his thighs. The movement hiked your dress up high on your legs, the heat of his bare thigh pressing right against your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties.

His big hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles over your dress, fingertips dipping just under the hem like he couldn’t help himself. You looped your arms around his neck, hands sliding down to rest of the backs of his shoulders. Your fingers traced the warm, smooth skin there as you settled against him.

For a long moment neither of you spoke. Jimmy just held your gaze, dark eyes locked on yours with that quiet intensity he got when he was a few too many drinks deep. He leaned in, nose brushing along your jaw before his lips found the sensitive spot just under it. He nibbled softly, sucked gently. The scrape of his teeth making you shiver.

“How you feelin’, baby?” he murmured against your skin, warm breath fanning over the damp spot he’d just marked. “Still good? Still with me?”

You smiled, fingers tightening on the backs of his shoulders as you tilted your head to give him more room. “Mmm, better than good.” Your voice came out as a whisper, breathy and a little giggly from the buzz. “Just really warm. And really into you right now.”

Jimmy hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as he gave another soft bite before pulling back just enough to look at you again. That lazy grin was back, but his eyes were darker. Heavier. The drunk haze mixing with something deeper and hungrier.

“Room service ain’t got shit on what I got in here,” he grumbled, voice low and rough with that signature smirk of his. He nodded toward the mini-bar at the corner. The one he’d had fully stocked the second you checked in. “Grab that bottle of tequila off the counter, baby.”

You raised an eyebrow, already grinning as you leaned back slightly in his lap, reaching over and snagging the half-full bottle. The glass was cool against your palm, the liquid sloshing softly.

Jimmy’s eyes dragged slowly down your body, dark and heavy, lingering shamelessly on the low neckline of your dress and the soft, full swell of your breasts. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to pull you closer, pressing you down harder onto his lap so you could feel exactly how hard he already was beneath you. His cock was thick and hot, straining against the thin material of his shorts.

His hands slid up your sides, hooking two fingers into the neckline of your dress and tugging it down roughly. The fabric bunched beneath your breasts and they spilled free into the cool air of the suite. Your nipples tightened instantly under him, heavy and sensitive.

Jimmy’s gaze was pure hunger now, dark and unashamed, lips parting like he was already imagining the taste of them.

“Pour it,” he rasped, barely more than a growl against your skin. “All over these pretty tits f’me.”

Heat flooded through you at his words, but you didn’t wait for him to ask again. You tilted the bottle and poured a slow, steady stream of tequila right down the center of your cleavage. The cold liquid made you gasp sharply, sliding down the warm valley between them in shiny, glistening streams.

It dripped over your nipples, making them pebble even tighter, and pooled on the soft, full curves before spilling lower in thin, teasing trails.

Jimmy groaned deep in his chest the second the first drop hit your skin, the sound vibrating hot against you. He ducked his head immediately, dragging his tongue slowly up the center of your tits in one long, broad stripe, licking through the tequila with a filthy, satisfied moan that went straight between your legs.

“Fuck, baby…” he muttered against your skin. “Taste even better like this.”

He didn’t stop. He licked and sucked at every single drop. Tongue swirling around one nipple before moving to the other, sucking the tight, tequila-slick bud into his hot mouth with a wet pop. His hands squeezed your tits together, pushing them up and in so he could bury his face between them, licking and kissing and biting softly at the sensitive flesh while more tequila dripped down.

Your hands gripped his hair, arching into his mouth with a soft, breathy moan. The buzz from the night mixing with the heat of his mouth until everything felt hazy and electric.

Jimmy groaned again, the sound muffled between your breasts as he sucked harder, tongue flicking and swirling while his hands kneaded and squeezed, completely lost in the taste of you.

The more he tasted, the drunker he got– not just from the tequila, but from you.

His movements were getting sloppier, more desperate. His tongue dragged heavier across your skin. He was less precise, chasing every glistening drop with open-mouthed, hungry licks that left long, wet trails behind. His breathing was heavier now. Hotter against your chest, each exhale coming out in a shaky groan. You could feel the way his hands trembled slightly as they squeezed your breasts together again, nose pressing deeper into your pillowly flesh.

Every broad swipe of his tongue sent sparks racing across your skin. Your nipples were tight and aching from the constant attention, each flick and suck making your thighs clench around his hips. The mixture of spit and liquor dripped down your stomach in warm, sticky trails, cooling quickly in the air and making you feel exposed and filthy and so fucking wanted.

You were buzzing harder now, the alcohol and the taste of his mouth making everything feel slow and intense. Your core was throbbing against the hard ridge of his cock through his shorts, soaked and aching, every little grind of his hips sending fresh heat deep in your belly.

When he finally pulled back for air, his lips were shiny and swollen, glistening with spit and liquor. A thin, sticky string of it connected his mouth to your nipple for a heartbeat before it broke and dripped down your breast. A few pieces of hair fell into his eyes as he looked up at you.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, glassy, the usual sharp focus softened by the alcohol and the haze of you. His cheeks were flushed darker than before. He looked completely gone. Drunk on the taste of your skin. On the way you were letting him devour you like this.

Without warning, he leaned up and kissed you. It was deep, messy, tequila-flavored. His tongue slid against yours immediately, hot and insistent, and you tasted everything. The sharp bite of the liquor, the salt of your own skin, the faint sweetness of his mouth.

He groaned into the kiss, low and filthy, one big hand still cupping your tit. His thumb rolling slow and rough over your nipple while he kissed you, wanting to consume you from the mouth down.

“More,” he rasped, pulling away from your mouth. His words were starting to slur from how far he was gone. “Pour me s’more, baby. I ain’t done yet.”

You tilted the bottle again, pouring a fresh, slower stream right over your nipples. You gasped at the feeling, a full-body shiver rolling through you as it cascaded down the curves of your breasts.

The chill of the tequila against your overheated skin, the way it made your nipples ache even more— had you rocking helplessly in his lap, grinding down against the thick bulge in his shorts.

Jimmy dove back in like a man starved.

Every so often he’d pull back just enough to look at you, lips parted and shining, before diving back in. Sucking harder, biting gently at the soft undersides, leaving little red marks that bloomed under his mouth. His hips rocked up against you in slow, needy grinds, pressing his hard cock against your core through his shorts, the friction making you both moan.

But it wasn’t enough for him anymore.

Jimmy’s hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging in almost bruisingly as he groaned against your tit. His breathing was ragged, hot and uneven, the alcohol making him bolder. He gave one last hard suck to your nipple, then suddenly gripped your waist and lifted you off his lap like you weighed nothing at all.

“Down,” he muttered. “On your knees. Right here.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was guiding– pushing– you down onto the floor in front of the couch. Your knees hit the soft carpet between his spread thighs. Jimmy leaned back against the cushions, legs splayed wide, one big hand shoving his shorts down to free his cock.

It sprang out, already slightly weeping at the tip. He wrapped a hand around the base and gave himself one slow stroke, eyes still locked on your tits.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

Your hands slid up his thick thighs, nails draggling lightly over the warm skin as you leaned forward on your knees. Your lips parted, mouth starting to water as you moved to take him in. The head of his cock was right there, flushed and shiny, and you were drunk enough that the only thought in your floaty mind was to taste him.

Before your lips could even brush the tip, Jimmy’s hand shot out.

His fingers tangled tight in your hair, yanking your head back with a firm, sudden tug that made your breath catch. Your mouth was still open, tongue halfway out, when he stopped you cold.

“Uh-uh,” he murmured, voice still thick and slurred. “No.”

You blinked up at him, confused and a little dazed, the drunk haze making everything feel slow and fuzzy. Your lips were still parted, breath coming quick and shallow as you tried to make sense of what was happening. Why’d you have to stop? You had been so sure it was what he wanted.

The way he was stroking himself, the way he was looking at you, the way his cock was leaking right in front of your face. Your hands stayed on his thighs, fingers flexing against the muscle as you tilted your head, brows furrowed in confusion.

“But… I thought…” Your voice came out soft, your words dragging out, still tasting the tequila on your tongue from earlier. “I was jus’ gonna–”

Jimmy’s grip in your hair tightened for a second, almost painful. Just enough to keep you right where he wanted you. He looked wrecked already and you hadn’t even touched him.

“I don’t want your mouth,” he growled, the words a little clumsy but clear. “Not tonight. I want these.” His free hand came down, cupping one of your tits and squeezing. “Want you to bounce these pretty fuckin’ tits around my cock. Now.”

Your confusion quickly melted into understanding. You nodded lips still parted, the sting in your scalp from his grip only making your pussy wetter.

“Okay… yeah,” you whispered, breathy and obedient. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Jimmy released your hair, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied groan as you pressed your breasts together with both hands and slid them around his thick, leaking cock. The moment you squeezed them tight around him, you looked down.

God. Your tits looked ruined.

The soft, full curves were flushed red from all the sucking and biting he’d been doing. Everywhere his mouth had been was marked– dark, blooming hickeys and the clear imprints of his teeth scattered across the tops and undersides. Some already turning that bruised purple-red that would impossible to hide.

Your nipples were swollen and puffy, covered with spit and leftover tequila, still tight and aching from the constant attention. The mix of it all glistened on your skin in messy, wet streaks, causing the marks to stand out even more under the low light.

You could feel the heat radiating off them, the way the skin felt tender and sensitive where his teeth had sunk in. Every little shift made them throb. A sharp, delicious reminder of how greedily he’d ravaged you just minutes ago.

The thick, flushed head of his cock pushed up through the tight, slick valley you’d created, smearing fresh pre-cum across the already messy skin. The contrast was filthy. Your soft, bruised marked up tits wrapped around his hard, veiny cock. The shiny red of your skin against the darker flush of his length.

Every upward bounce made your breasts jiggle and slap together around him. The wet, obscene sounds filled the quiet room as more spit and tequila and pre-cum mixed together and dripped down onto his lap.

You felt dizzy with it all.

The alcohol made everything feel slower and more intense at the same time. The heat of his cock sliding between your tits, the way your nipples dragged against his skin with every bounce.

Jimmy’s groan was low as he watched the same sight, his hips rocking up to fuck your tits harder.

“Fuck. Look at that,” he slurred, one hand coming down to cover yours, helping you squeeze your bruised breasts even tighter around his cock. “So pretty and red. Bouncin’ them tits on my dick. Such a good little slut f’me.”

You kept bouncing, slow at first, then faster. You watched the way his cock disappeared completely between your tits only to reappear at the top, dark and slick, the head nudging your sternum. The marks on your skin stretched and pulled with every thrust of his hips, the sting and pleasure building until you were moaning right along with him.

Jimmy’s hips started snapping up harder, fucking your tits with short, needy thrusts that made thrm bounce and jiggle around his cock. The mix of fluids made everything slippery and warm as you kept squeezing your tits tight around him.

You were bouncing them for him now– lifting and dropping your breasts in rhythm with his thrusts, the heavy, tender flesh slapping together around his thick cock. Your nipples rubbed against his length on every stroke, so sensitive they ached, sending sparks straight down to your core.

Your pussy was fucking soaked.

You could feel it. Your panties were completely drenched, the heat throbbing between your thighs as you rocked in time with him on your knees. The friction and the sight of him losing it between your breasts made your clit throb in time with every thrust.

But Jimmy wasn’t even thinking about your pleasure right now. He was drunk, selfish, and completely focused on the tight, warm tits wrapped around him.

“Shit,” he breathed out, eyes red as he stared down at the sight. His hair was falling messily across his face, strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. “Need you doin’ this all the time.”

He groaned loud and low, hips snapping harder, the head of his cock smearing pre-cum in shiny streaks. His hands covered yours again, helping you squeeze your tits even tighter around him, fingers digging deep into your flesh.

“You don’t even know,” he panted, hips fucking up into your cleavage with sloppy, desperate strokes. “Want these tits marked up and bouncin’ on my cock every fuckin’ night. So soft… so warm. Fuck, baby. Just like that–”

You moaned softly, the praise and the sting of everything making your pussy clench around nothing. You kept bouncing your tits faster, squeezing them tighter around his throbbing cock. The slick, messy sounds were growing louder as more pre-cum leaked from the tip and coated your skin.

Jimmy’s head tipped back against the couch for a second, his mouth open, before he forced his eyes back down to watch. His breathing was growing more ragged, chest heaving quickly, the drunken haze making every movement sloppier. His cock throbbed violently between your tits, the head swelling darker as he got closer.

“Gonna cum all over these pretty tits,” he growled, voice broken. “Gonna paint ‘em so fuckin’ good. “

You squeezed your breasts even tighter around him, bouncing faster, looking up at his wrecked face through your lashes.

Jimmy’s grip on your hands tightened bruisingly as his thrusts turned erratic and he came hard with a deep, guttural groan.

Thick, hot ropes of cum shot across your tits in messy spurts, painting the soft, already marked skin in pearly white streaks. Some landed high on your chest and collarbone, dripping down your neck in warm, sticky trails. Others coated the tops of your breasts, pooling between them and sliding over your swollen nipples.

His cock pulsed and jerked between your breasts as he kept fucking them through it, milking every last drop while you kept bouncing, squeezing him tight until he was spent and shaking.

Jimmy’s head fell back again, hair plastered to his face as he panted through the aftershocks. His hands stayed on your tits, lazily smearing his cum across your skin like he wanted to mark you even more.

You looked down at the mess. Your bruised, red tits covered in his cum. Nipples shiny and puffy. The bites standing out even brighter against the white streaks that dripped down your neck and chest.

Jimmy lifted his head, glassy eyes meeting yours. A lazy, satisfied smirk tugged at his lips.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “Look at you, all covered in me.”

You smiled up at him, still on your knees between his legs, glistening with his cum, the haze between you thick and warm. His hands slid down your waist and with a possessive growl, he pulled you straight back into his lap, straddling him again. Your cum coated tits pressed against his chest as he settled you where he wanted you, your soaked pussy pressing against the still-hard length of his cock.

Jimmy didn’t waste another second.

He ducked his head and dragged his tongue slowly up the center of your cleavage, licking a slow, filthy stripe through his own cum. The wet heat of his mouth made you gasp. He groaned deep in his chest as he tasted himself mixed with the salt of your skin and the lingering tequila.

“Mine,” he muttered against you, thick and slurred. His tongue moved slower, licking every thick rope of cum off the soft curves of your breasts. He sucked gently at one nipple, pulling the puffy bud into his mouth along with a mouthful of his own release. He then moved to the other, cleaning you with long, lazy strokes of his tongue.

You moaned softly, fingers threading back into his messy hair as he worked. The sensation was overwhelming. The warm, wet drag of his tongue over your sensitive skin. The way he licked and sucked and swallowed, gathering every drop like he couldn’t stand to waste any of it.

You were still tender from all the earlier abuse, the fresh hickeys and teeth marks throbbing under his mouth as he licked over them, soothing and claiming at the same time.

Jimmy tilted his head and licked a slow trail up the side of one breast, then higher, chasing a thick streak that had dripped onto your collarbone and neck. His tongue dragged over your throat, sucking gently at the skin there, tasting himself on you while his hands continued to knead the soft, cum-slick flesh of your tits.

“Fuck, taste so good,” he groaned against your neck, drunk and hazy. “These are all mine. My pretty tits, my marks. All fuckin’ mine.”

You rocked slowly in his lap. Your pussy was drenched, throbbing against his cock, but Jimmy wasn’t focused on anything but cleaning you. Licking every last drop off your chest, your nipples, the undersides of your breasts, even the little trails that had run down toward your stomach. His hair kept falling forward, brushing your skin, sticking to the wet mess as he worked.

Every slow, filthy lick made your nipples ache and your core clench. The drunk, possessive way he was devouring his own cum off your tits had you dizzy. Soft little moans slipped out of you as you held his head to your chest and let him worship you.

Jimmy finally pulled back just enough to look at you, glassy eyes staring at your now clean but still bruised and glistening tits. He leaned in and pressed one last, slow, open mouthed kiss between them, tongue darting out to catch the very last drop. He rested his forehead against your chest, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.

“Damn… could stay buried between these all night,” he slurred. “Best fuckin’ view in the world.”

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“open up a lil’ wider for me, bae… uh-huh, there you go, pretty girl.”

your mouth opened wider on command as you pushed forward a bit more, slowly taking as much more of Tyriq’s dick as you could handle down your throat until you eventually gagged around him. you fisted the rest of his inches that couldn’t fit in your mouth and you stroked him with the same rhythm you sucked at, your mouth and hand moving in unison as soft gagging and the sound of spit filled the air.

“fuck, look at you. so damn beautiful with this dick in your mouth, baby.” Tyriq groaned, cradling the back of your head in his unoccupied hand, as his fingers lightly threaded through your hair and he gently guided you up and down, not wanting to take over your movements but wanting to help you out with them instead.

you moaned against him in response and you pulled back from his dick until only his tip was in your mouth as your other hand wrapped around him and you started jerking him off while paying special attention to the sensitive head of his long inches, earning a deep moan from him while his grip in your hair slightly tightened.

“look at me, bae.” when your eyes lifted to Tyriq, you weren’t expecting to see his phone angled down at you and recording the lewd act you were engaged in, but you weren’t put off by it. in fact, it made you determined to make him cum quicker, and your hands sped up on his dick before either of you even realized it.

you pulled your mouth off of his tip and stuck out your tongue instead as you slapped and rubbed the throbbing tip against your tongue, keeping your hands steady and maintaining your rhythm while your tongue swirled around the head and slid across the slit in it.

“shiiiit… damn, mama,” Tyriq gutturally moaned, his hand sliding down from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, as he lifted the phone and angled it towards the mirror, recording at a different angle and perspective, “keep goin’, baby, fuck… you doin’ so good f’me.”

the change in perspective showed more than his point of view did — it revealed his unbuttoned shirt, his tensed abdomen, and your slightly messy hair. it also displayed the color of your gown in a different lighting, the front of it tucked underneath your knees to soften the floor beneath you.

however, the mirror perspective really emphasized the movements in your hands and head, a soft hum falling from your parted lips before you took him back inside your mouth again.

Tyriq watched you in the mirror for a moment before looking down at you, watching you remove both of your hands this time and bob your head quicker than you initially did. your eyes flickered up to his and the two of you made eye contact as you held your hands behind your back and took him in deeper, soft gagging noises filling the room again for each time he hit the back of your throat.

Tyriq’s jaw slightly dropped and his lips fell ajar as groans and moans erupted from his vocals, the sound of them echoing inside the bathroom and harmonizing with the sound of slurping from you. a furrow formed between his eyebrows and his lashes fluttered as his hand moved from your neck to your jaw, cradling it in his hand and pressing his thumb against your cheek while he watched his dick disappear and reappear inside your warm mouth.

“mmh, fuck, i’m ‘bout to nut, mama… ‘bout to nut all in this good ass mouth,” Tyriq moaned, the furrow between his eyebrows increasing, as his grip slightly tightened on your jaw and his phone and he lowered the camera back to you, wanting to record the moment he painted the inside of your mouth with his cum, “don’t stop, baby, keep goin’. just l-like that, beautiful…”

and you didn’t stop. you wouldn’t stop — not until your boyfriend was satisfied and completely drained of his seed.

Your heavy thighs were pinned on either side of his, your sweat and fluids mixing into a moist solution smeared all over both of you.

The pressure of his large fingers shoving into the meaty fat of your ass and his dirty whispers kept your hips rolling forward in slow drags.

“Look at you, a nasty mess for me. Take all this dick, I know your pretty pussy can.” His words laced with lewdness, made sparks ride up from your gaping hole to your throat causing a choked moan to pour from your mouth.

“Fffuck Cam!” The pornographic cry was so loud that you were certain someone heard you outside the car.

“Dirty slut, takin’ all of me and moanin’ my name. You want Daddy to fill you up huh?” He tauntingly cooed, drilling his hips upwards and dragging his length through your sticky insides while his cock head collided with your G-spot.

“Y-yes please!” You mewled, drawing your hips in a sensual motion, pinning your hip bone against his as your walls embraced each inch of iron length.

“Do right then, pretty girl.” With those words came a hard slap, the sound rippled through the air. Your squeal that came along was high and piercing, the impact encouraged you to move faster.

His cock was pinned in place and you rode back and forth, hips dancing and pussy squirming around him. Your hole squirted and squeezed around him, leaving creamy juices riding down him.

His hot tip leaked droplets of pre that mixed with your lubrication, his head was pinned to the headrest, and his hands were digging into your flesh while he swallowed back groans of pleasure.

You towed your hips perfectly dragging over the sensitive veins of his hardened cock, your motion colliding with his bulging sensitive veins, and your walls hugging his inches he could feel his orgasm building at a relentless pace quicker than he intended.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as the orgasm ran over him, “keep goin’ pretty girl, let daddy milk you.” He choked on his last few words, his tip shooting out hot ropes of cum, painting your tight walls white.

He hammered up, fitting himself deep inside of you and gaining a merciless pound. Your fingers curled around his biceps, fingers pressing deep into the sweaty flesh, biting back the screams daring to leave your lips.

One last tight hug around him then you released. Your cum spewed out of your hole gapping open, gushing out of you along with your cries of pleasure.

“Cam shiit!” The tears fell over your waterline because of the overwhelming pleasure, your eyes squeezed shut and your head thrown back.

After the ecstasy of your orgasms, your head fell onto his chest while you breathed in his scent. His finger trailed down your spine in a somewhat comfortable motion and his nose was pressed against your scalp.

“You good?” His smoky voice cut the silence.

“Mhm.” You mumbled with a nod.

“Alright, we'll clean up and go get those sunglasses you've been asking for.”

Thank You For Reading

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“said, it’s been a minute since i had some. he’s been actin’ up, but he won’t be the only one…”

you and Cameron started off as classmates. nothing more than just two people who sat beside each other in the same classroom for an hour and a half throughout the semester. you never paid him any mind and he didn’t bother you like most athletes would when they saw an attractive girl — the two of you just minded your own business and continued on casually.

you didn’t really know how things shifted from strangers to flings, but when the two of you ended up having a one night stand after being drunk at a Homecoming party, you were sure that was when things changed.

even though both of you were intoxicated that night, the sex that transpired wasn’t forgotten when you awoke beside each other in the morning. you remembered everything and so did Cameron, which is why neither of you could leave each other alone after that.

the atmosphere in the class you two shared was never the same. it went from both of you paying more attention to yourselves than each other to you and him passing notes back and forth and his hand caressing your thigh under the desk. the sexual chemistry the two of you had was something different, in a more hypnotizing way.

it was like you couldn’t get enough of each other, and it grew harder and harder to try and keep your hands away from each other when you were in public, which led to rumors circulating around campus that you and Cameron were secretly dating.

neither of you addressed the rumors, though. you two weren’t officially together, but you also weren’t seeing or talking to other people — at least, you weren’t.

you and Cameron continued fucking around for almost the entire semester, until he randomly cut you off three weeks before it ended, leaving you stunned and completely throwing you off. you tried reaching out to him to get an explanation and see if you did anything wrong for him to just up and leave you like that, but he never called or texted you back. it was like he vanished into thin air when it came to you, but remained available for everyone else.

however, the moment you finally found time to confront him in person, you nearly flashed out at the sight of him kissing and hugging another girl in the middle of the courtyard — but the icing on the cake? the girl was Jasmine, the same girl you had two of your classes with.

you were never the same after that. you weren’t sad, no. you were far from sad. you were furious, bitter, jealous, and even revengeful — you were a woman scorned, and hell hath no fury like the wrath you were about to unleash on Cameron Cade.

you became quieter around campus, almost reserved. the people closest to you were concerned about your wellbeing, but you were eerily calm. you couldn’t let your emotions take over your life, but you couldn’t just let Cameron slip away from you and into another woman’s embrace. you needed a plan, a real good plan that would surely make him realize the mistake he was making — and that, you did.

throughout the last three weeks of the semester, you did more than just finish up homework and study for exams — you plotted, tremendously. you had to think of something that would scare Cameron straight and have him running back to you, but you also didn’t want to hurt him. you wanted to warn him, but you certainly weren’t going to repeat yourself.

this would be his first and final warning, and if he fucked up again, you’d punish him with actions instead of threats.

after the semester concluded and your grades and GPA were in great shape, you were able to fully focus on your plan, and luckily for you, the NPHC was having an end-of-the-year party at a frat house off campus tonight — an event that you knew Jasmine would be at because you stalked her Instagram on your burner account, a page that nobody knew about but you.

you waited until she posted a video at the party to confirm Cameron wasn’t with her, but to further solidify your assumption of him not being at the party, you stalked his Instagram. you didn’t find anything, so you stalked his friends’ accounts too, but you didn’t find anything there either — that’s when you truly knew he wasn’t in attendance.

upon finding realizing that, that’s when you set your plan in motion. you got dressed in a sexy black lace dress, the piece enunciating the fullness of your breasts and the curve of your ass. the dress was practically a type of negligée and it was so lacy that it didn’t leave much to the imagination, but that was exactly why you bought it — and it’s also why you chose to wear nothing underneath it.

your feet were enclosed in black pumps that added to your height, and once you finished admiring your appearance, you put on a black ankle-length trench coat and tied it at your waist, properly concealing your risqué form. after securing the knot, you slipped something really special inside the inner pocket of the coat before grabbing your keys and heading over to Cameron’s apartment, not bothering to inform him of your impending arrival.

it’s not like he’d answer your texts anyway, and you were through being ignored by him.

Cameron didn’t know what to expect when he heard a knock at his door, but you were definitely the last person he expected to see tonight. he answered the door in a tank top and some sweatpants, a look of confusion crossing his pretty face the minute his greenish-blue eyes landed on you.

“what you doin’ here?” Cameron asked as he leaned against the door frame and rested one of his hands against the side of the door, looking down at you as if he were assessing you.

“you gon’ let me in?” you simply asked, not wanting to beat around the bush with small talk, as you slightly tilted your head, “it’s cold out here, Cameron.”

you weren’t actually cold, but he didn’t know that. he wasn’t supposed to, actually. you didn’t want to stand outside on his door step and talk to him like a woman desperate for answers. that wasn’t your style.

you were far from desperate. you were as calculated as a person could be.

Cameron eyed your attire for a moment and took notice to your heels, but chose not to say anything. instead, he leaned up from his door frame and took a step back before stepping aside, allowing you inside.

you entered his residence, but you didn’t rush to sit. you didn’t want to. that wasn’t what you came over for. you came over to make a point: you will not be left high and dry while he experiences romance with someone who isn’t you.

you watched him shut and lock the door behind you, and the minute he turned around, you stepped closer to him, keeping him from walking past you and almost causing a collision between your bodies.

“why you been ignoring me, Cameron?” you asked, a small furrow forming between your eyebrows, as Cameron stepped back to create distance between the two of you and you immediately followed, your eyes slightly narrowing at the action, “i been calling you. texting you, too. and you just… disappeared on me.”

“i been busy,” the way Cameron could lie so smoothly to your face without considering the consequences almost made you want to punch him in his mouth, but you clenched your jaw instead to keep yourself from listening to the voices in your head, “my bad. just ain’t had time to check my texts lately.”

“mhm,” you hummed lowly as you stared up at him with a blank expression, seemingly calm on the surface but fuming in the inside, “that’s pretty funny, you know? especially since you’ve been real active on social media lately.”

“not to mention, you been flashing your lil’ girlfriend around campus, too. in fact… isn’t there a picture of you and her pinned on your Instagram that you posted three days ago, Cam?” you asked casually as you flashed a grin, though there was no joy in your expression whatsoever, “what was her name again? hm, let me think… oh! Jasmine, right?”

Cameron looked at you silently, though his face spoke more than his vocals ever could. he can’t say he didn’t expect this, but what was throwing him off was the scarily calm look on your face and the intensity in your gaze. there was something different about your presence and he couldn’t put his finger on it, but whatever it was had the hairs on the back of his neck standing at full attention.

“you didn’t stop speaking to me because you were ‘busy’. you stopped speaking to me because you got a girlfriend,” you chuckled bitterly as you glared at him, “uh-huh, that’s it. you cut me off and left me high and dry to go play boyfriend, that’s what this is.”

Cameron parted his lips to speak, but you immediately raised your index finger and sat it against his mouth, watching his lips immediately close again and his adam’s apple bob from a swallow.

“shut the fuck up. i’m talking,” you growled as you narrowed your eyes at him and removed your finger from his lips, your hand moving to grab ahold of his jaw to force him to maintain eye contact with you, “you think you can just fuck me and leave? huh? you think you can ghost me and move on like i don’t exist? like i didn’t become your stress reliever when you’d get out of football practice? like you didn’t have my legs pinned beside my head while you fucked me like i owed you something?”

“well, guess what? i’m not goin’ nowhere and i’m not sharing you, Cameron. you’re mine, so fuck her and fuck that lil’ ass ‘relationship’ you got with her,” you warned as you slightly raised your eyebrows to emphasize your point, “i’m only gon’ say this shit once, so you better heed my fuckin’ warning. because next time, i won’t talk and i’ll let you see for yourself how serious i really am.”

your hand left his jaw and went inside your coat to slip inside the inner pocket as your fingertips wrapped around your special toy and slyly pulled it out, pressing the cool steel of it underneath his chin.

Cameron’s eyes never left yours and his body tensed up as he swallowed hard at the feeling of your handgun against his warm skin, his jaw clenching slightly to contain the fear coursing through him.

“you feel that, baby?” you cooed condescendingly, smiling sadistically, as you slid the gun up to his cheek and gently tapped the barrel of it against his face twice, your smile widening when you saw him flinch, “you feel what’s gon’ happen to you if i catch you with her again? hm?”

you applied slight pressure and pressed the barrel of the gun further onto his cheek, watching his breathing hitch as his hands balled up at his sides. your eyes lingered on his face before slowly dragging down his body, finding satisfaction in seeing the way his body reacted to being held at gunpoint.

however, when your eyes dropped below his hips, one of your eyebrows rose at the sight before you, and you smirked patronizingly as your head raised and you looked up at Cameron, noticing the shift in his gaze.

“damn, if i knew you’d get hard from me pullin’ a gun out on you, i wouldn’t have waited this long to do it,” you chuckled mockingly as you pressed your body flush against his and watched him inhale sharply through his nostrils, his hard dick now pressed against you and pulsing through his sweatpants, “untie my trench coat, Cam. i got another surprise for you underneath it.”

truthfully, Cameron didn’t know how to feel because he had so many emotions coursing through him at once that it was hard to determine which one was the strongest.

he was afraid of what you’d do to him, but was also intrigued by how far you were willing to go just to have him to yourself. he felt embarrassed about getting an erection from your malicious threats, but his body seemingly had a mind of its own and viewed the gun as an aphrodisiac instead of what it actually was — something that’d be used against him without a doubt if he didn’t comply.

his hands trembled slightly as he raised them from his sides and grabbed ahold of the knot in your trench coat, his eyes nervously flickering between yours and the article of clothing on your body. slowly, Cameron untied the knot and gently pushed the coat open, inhaling sharply through his nostrils at the sight of the black lace against your bare melanated skin.

“f… fuck…” Cameron managed to croak out, his voice barely audible, as his eyes dragged along your figure and you smirked satisfactorily, pulling your arms back and shrugging the coat off of your shoulders until it eventually hit the floor behind you.

“you like it?” you grinned innocently, batting your eyelashes at him, as you pressed the barrel of the gun into the center of his chest and dragged it down his torso before stopping at his lower abdomen, causing his breathing to catch while his eyes dropped down to watch your movements, “i bought it just for you, baby… i remember you said you loved seeing me in lace.”

Cameron’s eyes found yours and he blinked through his hypnotic state as he gazed down at you and swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry the moment he tried to find his voice again. when he failed to speak, he nodded instead, the motion meek and almost submissive, earning a soft chuckle from you.

“mm-mm. use that mouth, Cam,” you cooed, a small smirk crossing your face, as you moved the gun to press into the center of his chest for a second time and your other hand reached down to his erection, wrapping your fingers around it through the layers of clothing and gently squeezing it, “tell me you like my dress.”

“…i-i like your dress…” Cameron admitted softly, his words a bit breathy from your grip on his dick, as his hands cautiously found your waist and you smiled in delight, your body instinctively leaning into the warmth of his palms while your eyes remained locked in on his face.

Cameron didn’t stutter often, nor did he ever speak timidly, but there was something about you that had him feeling more submissive than he ever had in his life — or maybe, it was just the effects of his life being on the line for fucking over the wrong woman that had him too fearful to say or do the wrong thing.

“how much?” you purred, gently biting down on your bottom lip, as you let go of his dick and slipped your hand inside his sweatpants, brushing past the waistband of his boxers with ease and wrapping your fingers around his bare phallus while you began to stroke him slowly.

a soft groan fell from Cameron’s lips and his grip slightly tightened on your waist as his head tilted back a bit towards the door and his hips gently jutted forward, pressing himself further against you and the palm of your hand.

“s-shit… so much, mama,” Cameron groaned as his hooded eyes left your face and averted to your body again, allowing them to slowly wander across your scandalously-clad figure and properly drink you in, “you look so fuckin’ good in that dress.”

your eyes lit up and you grinned widely, watching Cameron’s eyes choose parts of your body to momentarily fixate on before moving to another part of you. the term of endearment sent pleasant shudders through you and a moan of contentment fell from your lips as you slightly tightened your grip on his dick and sped up your hand a little, flicking your wrist to also stroke him in a circle instead of the only doing the standard up-and-down motion.

“good enough for you to bend me over that couch and fuck me in it?”

your hands clung to the couch cushions as you stood bent over the couch arm, a deep arch in your back while Cameron fisted your dress and bunched it up against the middle of your back. your moans and cries filled the room and echoed off the walls as sounds of skin slapping, groans, and wet squelching harmonized with your sounds of pleasure, Cameron’s other hand firmly gripping your hip while he deeply stroked you at a quick pace.

your ass bounced and rippled against Cameron’s pelvis and your breasts pressed into the couch as a furrow sat between your eyebrows and your mouth hung open, your jaw slack while your body slightly jerked forward with each of Cameron’s thrusts. Cameron’s grip on your dress tightened and his fingers dug into the material before it sharply ripped under his tight grip, earning a broken gasp from you as you felt him completely tear it off of your frame.

this — this is why you couldn’t let him go. he knew your body better anyone else did. he knew how to fuck you so good that you’d still feel him the next day. Cameron was notoriously skilled in bed, and you knew other girls on campus knew that because word gets around fast, but you were through sharing — you were completely over it, actually. you were tired of thinking about the next bitch who got to cum on his dick that wasn’t you.

this time things would be different — because you’d be the only one cumming on his dick from now on.

suddenly, the position switched and both of you ended up on the couch as you sat on his lap, your thighs on either side of his while you bounced at a quick pace. his large hands firmly gripped your hips to help guide you and he leaned up to you as he kissed you hungrily, desperately deepening the kiss while your hands clung to his shoulders.

you moaned into his mouth and he groaned into yours in response, but the moment was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing, making you huff in annoyance before pulling away from the kiss.

your hips gradually slowed and you parted lips to question whose phone could possibly be ringing, but then you paused before a word to leave your mouth, and a smirk slowly spread across your face as you met Cameron’s gaze and slightly tilted your head.

that wasn’t your phone, and you knew it wasn’t because you left yours at home.

“answer it, Cam.” you grinned innocently, your hips coming to a stop, as you sat fully seated on his dick and caressed his shoulders with your fingertips, feeling them tense up from your words.

Cameron’s mouth opened to decline but you immediately glared at him before any word could actually leave his vocals, one of your hands leaving his shoulders to grab ahold of your gun.

“i wasn’t asking,” you remarked, your voice suddenly shifting to a snarky tone, as you pressed the gun into the center of his chest and your other hand tightened on his shoulder, your eyes slightly narrowing at him, “pick it up and put it on speaker. now.”

the moment your gun touched Cameron’s chest, his dick twitched inside you and his fingers flexed against your hips, his breathing hitching and becoming a bit heavier than before. hesitantly, Cameron took a hand off of you and leaned forward as he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, looking up at you for a moment before reluctantly answering the phone call.

“hello?”

“hey, baby! i was callin’ to see if you were still awake or not ‘cause i’m gettin’ ready to come see you,” the sound of Jasmine’s sweet and unsuspecting voice echoed throughout the living room and you could feel Cameron tense up further underneath you, “i didn’t wake you, did i?”

your eyebrows immediately furrowed at her words, your eyes darting between Cameron’s face and his phone. she was “getting ready” to come see him? while you were here with him? you weren’t going for that. in fact, you were going to make sure she didn’t show up at all.

before Cameron could even open his mouth to speak, you started moving again, deep determination and pure fury surging through you while your grip tightened on his shoulder and you pressed the tip of the gun further into his chest. Cameron’s eyes slightly widened and he inhaled sharply through his nose as he watched you intently, unable to control the way his body responded to the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

“n— nah. nah, you d-didn’t.” Cameron tried to mask his pleasure, but his words came out completely strained and his voice slightly cracked as his hand left your hip and his entire arm banded around your waist, holding you against him while you continued bouncing on him.

you smirked sadistically and pressed your forehead against his as you slid the gun up to rest underneath his chin and pressed your chest flush against his, eliciting a quiet whimper from him while his colored eyes searched yours.

“why you sound like that? you okay?” the genuine concern in Jasmine’s questions only made your smirk widen and you bit down on your bottom lip as you pressed your knees deeper into the couch cushions and bounced harder, taking his dick as deep as possible while a furrow formed between Cameron’s eyebrows.

Cameron’s jaw fell open and his bottom lip trembled as he tried to form a sentence of reassurance to give his girlfriend, but a deep moan fell from his lips instead once he felt your tongue drag across his mandible. you smiled victoriously and dragged your tongue all the way to his earlobe, kissing it before flicking the top of it with the tip of your tongue.

“you know what i want you to do, Cameron,” you whispered patronizingly in his ear as your hand slid up from his shoulder to the back of his neck, cradling it in your palm while his arm flexed around you, “tell her you done with her. tell you don’t want her no more. tell her not to call you no more. tell her you leaving her. do it or i’ll kill her.”

“Cameron… are you good? what the hell was that?”

a desperate whimper fell from Cameron’s mouth, though he didn’t know if it was from fear or pleasurable, and the sound of your threatening whispers mixing with Jasmine’s innocent voice nearly sent him into psychosis, conflict and pleasure internally battling to control his facial expressions.

“J-Jas…” Cameron exhaled shakily as he swallowed hard and tried to steady his voice, but considering the position he was in — literally and figuratively — he knew it would be a waste of time, “i can’t… c-can’t do this wit’ you no m-more.”

“you can’t do what no more with me? Cam, what the hell you got goin’ on? like, seriously. ‘cause i know you not about to do what i think you are.”

you pulled back from Cameron’s earlobe and looked down at him, meeting his gaze that was somewhat unsteady. a stray tear formed in one of Cameron’s eyes and you smiled sadistically as you watched it roll down his cheek before wiping it away with the tip of the gun, making him flinch.

“do. it. Cameron.” you whispered demandingly, slightly raising both of your eyebrows, as you gently tapped the gun against his cheek and suddenly bucked your hips, earning another whimper from him.

“i-i’m… i’m leaving you, Jasmine. i c-can’t do this relationship shit wit’ you no m-more…” the words left a bitter taste in Cameron’s mouth, as if his stomach acid had refluxed and scorched the back of his throat. his body tensed after the words hit his eardrums, as if it had physically pained him to leave the woman he cared about.

but you? you were elated to see the words pour from his mouth, no matter how much they may have hurt him you say or how much they may have hurt Jasmine to hear. there was no going back after this, and you and Cameron both knew it, but sooner or later, you’d grow on him and he’d learn to love you like you loved him — frankly, he had no choice.

and just like that, Cameron was stuck between a rock and a hard place — the “hard place” being a woman he mistakenly fucked over who wouldn’t hesitate to kill to get him all to herself, even if it meant he had to die, too.

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“put it in…” you begged breathily into your heated and sloppy kiss with Tyriq, your hands scrambling to his pants, as Tyriq groaned desperately against your mouth and he hungrily deepened the kiss, his hands sliding up your back before abruptly dropping between the two of you to help you with removing his pants, “please, baby…”

you and Tyriq were never the type of people to get drunk in public, but when you’re at a Met Gala afterparty and having a great time, things tend to slip by unnoticed by the two of you — including the number of drinks you had and how strong they were.

the moment intoxication settled in, raw need immediately followed it, and both of you felt like caged animals in heat that needed release as soon as possible. it was like you were different people — people who felt a sudden urge to just fuck the night away without any precautions.

you were sober and poised enough to bid goodbye to the others the two of you had spoken to throughout the night, but as soon as you left the party and got in the backseat of your car, all of that instantly flew out of the window. you were on each other like white on rice, and it’d take at least an army to pull you away from him.

your outfit had been tossed away and his jacket followed suit, leaving you in your undergarments and him in his pants. your hands moved feverishly, wanting to touch every inch of skin humanly possible, and both of you worked eagerly to take off his pants until they had been stripped off and thrown on the floor.

“Ty…” you whimpered softly against his lips, your voice laced with pure need, as Tyriq huffed out a low rough hum against your mouth and gripped your hips, pulling you flush onto his lap and making your hips roll forward against his clothed erection.

“too many layers… want you naked.” in a flash, Tyriq unclipped your bra with one hand and pulled off your panties with the other as he threw them presumably into one of the front seats and flipped the two of you over, the kiss unintentionally breaking while he pressed your body into the leather seats and rested his own against yours.

before Tyriq could do the honors, your hands were quicker than his and shot to the waistband of his boxers as you pulled them down and watched him shift out of them before throwing them to the floor.

one of your hands moved to grab the nape of his neck and you pulled him down for another hungry kiss as he kissed you back with equal fervor, his large hands gripping your thighs and pulling your legs around his waist before he finally pushed his dick inside of you.

the two of you moaned in unison when he slipped inside and his fingers flexed against your thighs as his grip slightly tightened and he deepened the kiss, your arms locking around his neck and keeping his chest flush against yours while your tongues tangled together.

once he was buried to the hilt, Tyriq started thrusting into you with ravenously passionate strokes, the car slightly rocking while he fucked into you with desperate hungry and a need to please. you whimpered against his mouth and he whimpered back in response as his fingers sunk into your thighs and held them tighter, his heavy balls quickly slapping against your ass with each buck of his hips while your slick walls greedily swallowed every inch of him.

you broke the kiss for air, but neither of you moved your faces apart from each other, your noses brushing and nudging together with each thrust while his forehead pressed against yours.

“oh, f-fuuuuck— don’t stop! d-don’t stop, baby, please…” you whined urgently, your hands clinging to his back, as Tyriq moaned gutturally in response and rolled his hips against yours, a small furrow forming between his eyebrows while he angled his hips to aim deeper, “y-yes! oh, yes! right t-there! oh, my Go— r-right there, Ty!”

“right here? huh? you like it when i hit that spot right here?” Tyriq murmured roughly, the ghost of a smirk crossing his slightly rosy face, as he kept his hips angled to hit that spot and you squealed loudly, your head falling back against the seats while your grip on his back tightened, “there she is… uh-huh, there’s my beautiful girl. my most prized possession with the best pussy in the world.”

“T-Tyriq!—”

“oh, i know, baby. i know — i’m right where you need me to be. i’m right where this pussy needs me to be. promise i won’t stop ‘til you’ve had enough of me, bae.” Tyriq pressed soft kisses down your jaw until he reached your neck, and he glided his tongue across your melanated skin before latching onto a patch of it, gently nipping it while soothing the incoming hickey with his tongue.

your noises rose higher in pitch and louder in volume as your eyebrows furrowed deeply and your jaw went slack, your mouth hanging open while your eyes rolled back. sweat beaded at your hairline and your hair slowly but surely got messier than before as your nails raked down Tyriq’s back and left long red lines, coaxing a deep groan of pleasurable pain from him while he continue marking your neck.

“f-fuck! nnnnngh, fuck!” you whined, slurring over your words, as your legs locked tighter around his waist and the heels of your feet dug into his lower back, seemingly motivating him to keep fucking into you like a rabid animal, “ohhhh, shiiiit— b-baby, i’m ‘bout t-to—”

“cum on this dick, bae. wet this shit up f’me. let me feel you soak up these seats, beautiful, c’mon,” Tyriq’s words sent you over the edge quicker than you expected and a throaty sob of pleasure fell from your lips as your climax rocketed through you, your eyes squeezing shut while your legs trembled, “mhm, that’s it, sweet girl. keep cummin’ and gimme’ all that good shit. wanna feel this greedy pussy squeeze around me some more.”

whatever alcohol you and Tyriq had drank at the afterparty, you certainly didn’t need to drink it in public anymore.

the first thing she thought was that she won, and that she was too spiked up on adrenaline to really process exactly what just happened.

her holding a championship belt—a world championship belt, she should have added—was one of the more surreal things for her that weekend. as attention-grabbing as it was for her, she could barely remember all of the events that transpired after. she could recall posing for the photos with the championship for social media and the website, but she couldn’t remember explicitly doing it; she recalled her mouth moving as she answered the questions in the post-show, but she didn’t think that she actually did that. the words sounded like hers, but she didn’t think it was her mouth that was moving.

wrestlemania weekend, no matter how exhilarating it was, always tended to leave her overstimulated in the bad way. she couldn’t keep track of how everything was going, even if she was certain that she was the one performing the motions. she remembered being in the audience for the second night, flexing the championship belt on her shoulder and smiling with that high fashion beam. the moment the camera pivoted to other things, she allowed that ironed grin to falter just enough, even if she couldn’t completely shut it down. she did her job well. after all, so much of wrestling to her was performing, and at the very least, she could perform attentiveness and wonder. her mind continued its cocooning while she allowed herself to continue watching the main event, even as she gasped on cue when the announce desk broke or at the false pin.

in some twisted way, she could feel herself grounding back reality as they watched the match. roman was the person she could easily track, because she was absolutely abysmal at avoiding his gaze. he was magnetic in the way that only somebody who was the main event of wrestlemania for the 11th consecutive time could be. he felt larger in life, elusive, and rightfully so. they hadn’t spoken, but she knew that her admiration of him wasn’t a well-concealed secret among the roster. she was only fortunate that nobody ever made it clear to him. not that that mattered, since roman was part-time anyways. she was certain he wasn’t even aware of her existence. that was fine with her—at least then, she wouldn’t be able to embarrass herself in front of him.

she did come to the realization that the match was veering towards the end sooner than she would have wanted it to. apparently, a thirty-minute match would not help her get back into herself; she considered that a bit foolish of her. she found security escorting her to gorilla again for more press photos now that they had all of their crowned champions for the weekend. she shook hands with everyone, smiled graciously, and posed. the only thing she hadn’t anticipated was pr telling her to stand next to roman for the photo of the new champions for monday night raw.

at first, she made an attempt to stand a respectable distance from him, enough to portray as close. “get closer,” she heard someone say. her eyes, wide and dazed, wasn’t sure if she caught that correctly. before she could react, though, his hand (an admittedly large hand she definitely hadn’t fantasized about several times in an attempt to get off after watching his title matches), tugged her by the waist, placing her right by his side. both of them raised their belts high, staring down the camera with precision and no shortage of cockiness. at least, she attempted to emulate that.

the first thing she registered was that he smelled good, even through all the sweat and exhaustion. she deciphered notes of sandalwood and something that was distinctly roman reigns. the other thing she could process was how warm he was compared to her cold skin. “overwhelming, isn’t it?” he murmured through the static of her mind and the shutter of the camera.

her answer didn’t feel as automatic as perhaps it should have been, her voice foreign to her own ears when she responded, “how do you ever get used to it?”

even when all of the press shoots were done, he kept his hand on her waist, helping the two of them make their way to the dressing rooms. he answered as they walked, “you just do. take the loud with the quiet—it gets easier over time.”

she didn’t know if she could believe him. the entire weekend wasn’t even really loud anymore, now veering into overload as he dropped her off at her room, which granted barely enough privacy to take a moment to breathe before more celebrations began.

she knew that a few glasses of champagne slid down her throat a few times throughout the evening, but not enough to warrant being any way incapacitated through alcohol. she knew that she shook her head and said something about excitement and gratitude for being given the opportunity. she knew that she was smiling. yet, she couldn’t really register that the alcohol was going down her throat, that it was her head moving, that it was her muscles contorting into that beam, that it was her feet guiding her towards the corner. she wasn’t sure if she could properly breathe, even though she rationally understood that her body was able to breathe on its own, and could handle it just fine.

“you look like you’re five seconds from tapping out to an anaconda vice,” a voice dryly remarked. naturally, she turned her head up towards the direction of the voice’s owner. she most likely couldn’t keep the shock off her face when her brain finally managed to process (however slowly) the present visual and auditory stimuli that roman reigns was addressing her. but, this time, of his own volition.

she technically felt more than properly realized that his expression shifted from amiability towards concern—more specifically, that it was her fault. her breath hitched, pondering if she did anything wrong. did she not answer fast enough? did her smile seem too off? or worse: did she make it too obvious she was into him? the hypotheticals had her lungs struggling for air. not that she could entirely register it, because one moment, she was in the corner of the room with the otc, and the next moment, he had his hand on her waist, escorting them both out to the elevator.

“let’s get you some air,” he murmured, keeping his voice that unwavering baritone as he closed the elevator door, forcibly shutting the door before anyone else could enter and overwhelm her further. once the doors closed, he cautiously pulled her in, strong arms caging her into him. his voice broke through the fog, “it’s alright. deep breath in for me, yeah?”

her lungs followed, matching his pace as the elevator rode all the way down to the resort’s car garage. every instance the elevator door opened and stopped at a floor, roman immediately pressed it shut, ensuring total privacy and external insulation for her with every shiver she gave. each descending floor granted her another breath to return to herself.

by the time the elevator reached the intended destination, she felt mostly back. she regained enough clarity to realize that she was in a parking garage, following roman reigns to his car, an admittedly nice one. her steps began trailing behind his, hesitant while he guided her to the passenger seat, opening it for her to slip into. the moment he shut the door and joined her in the driver’s seat, she closed her eyes, shuddering an exhale so large, as if she was atlas and the belt was the entire planet on her shoulder.

“fuck,” she whispered, “i’m sorry you had to leave the party ‘cause of me.”

he extended his hand, leaving his palm up for her to take if she wished. she took it, allowing his hand to dwarf hers. “don’t apologize,” he said, unrepentant about affixing that heavy gaze on her erratically panting chest, “first one’s always the one that hits the hardest.”

“didn’t want to take you from the party though,” she murmured in apology, shuffling awkwardly in her seat to evade enough of the heat of his eyes. “you deserve to celebrate.”

“got my celebration right here, babygirl.” his free hand brushed her cheek, gently tugging her face up. she couldn’t avoid the sensation of heat on her face. her eyes frantically flitted anywhere but him, though he seemed to know what she was attempting to do in the first place, because he leaned in enough to rest his forehead against hers. roman’s tone took on a more impish foundation as he mused, “you’re cute when you’re trying to be subtle.”

“i’m sorry,” she squeaked out again, “it’s unprofessional, and i know it’s probably creepy for a twenty-something to be having a crush on you. i promise i’m not a stalker or anything like that.”

roman tilted his head forward enough to rub his nose against hers, lips curled into an amused smile. “now, who said anything about stalking?” her eyes bolted wide open to that, pulling away to make some sense of his mirthful eyes.

“i mean, it’s weird, ain’t it?” she mumbled, “you’re like…a superstar. i didn’t wanna make it weird for you ‘cause you’re not always here. i didn’t wanna make it unpleasant or uncomfortable for you every time you came back.”

roman chuckled, breath fanning against her lips and retorting, “trust me, angel, i wasn’t ever uncomfortable with you staring at me.” he didn’t have to say much else then, his insistence enough for her to brush her lips against his for a tentative peck. roman deepened it, shifting his hands to tug her closer past the console.

“fuck,” she moaned against his lips, fingers brushing his beard firmly. she leaned further over the console, shifting herself on the passenger seat to rest more of her upper body against his.

he groaned, amused still, yet more fond as they continued to make out, “sweet thing, aren’t you? all soft and needy from some kissing?” her cheeks flared, though she didn’t deny it when she kissed him again, squeaking when he forcibly maneuvered over the console functioning as a barrier.

her mind blanked out from being shifted however awkwardly from the passenger seat to be on roman’s lap—at least she figured this time it was from something pleasant rather than dissociation. she squeaked as he pressed her form up against his, allowing him to take all of her weight while she straddled his hips. “fuck, you’re adorable,” he cooed against her lips.

“thank you, sir,” she responded, voice growing shriller as she realized what she just said and what she just called him. for all of her troubles, she earned a deep-bellied rumble that let her know that she probably didn’t have to stop calling him that. if anything, he was turned on, if the growing bulge pressing into her clothed heat was any indication.

“call me that again, babygirl,” he growled against her mouth, the same way he did when he demanded acknowledgement.

“yes, sir,” she repeated, earning a heavy spank on her ass, “fuck!”

roman swallowed her sounds with a guttural groan, pressing her closer. his other hand came to cup her sex through her panties, shifting the skirt of her dress up to give him better access. naturally, she ground down on it, rocking back and forth against the weight and heat of his palm. “such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he breathed into her ear, allowing her to move her own hand down to fully grasp just how hard he was at the sight of her. she nodded, skin gently flushed from want and his attention.

tentatively, she palmed him, applying just enough pressure to not seem shy, but not being overzealous and presumptuous about how much pressure he would maybe like or want. roman responded beautifully to her touch, groaning especially husky when her finger rubbed the tip of his length, swirling the budding beads of precum around. his own hand shifted so that he could slip right through her panties; her own arousal coated his fingers in an unabashed, honeyed gloss. “sorry,” she mumbled, though she only sounded semi-repentant.

roman smirked against her skin, wetly smacking her pussy; she could only squeeze his dick harder for that. “cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” he mused mirthfully, spanking her again, “but, i can’t blame you, can i? that’s how you got that championship.”

there was a part of her that lit up embarrassingly at the mere prospect that roman reigns watched her championship match, however short it was. when she mustered more courage to look up and gauge his reaction, she could only see pride reflected in his gaze, but also an awareness that he knew she wasn’t expecting it. “of course i watched, baby,” he chided fondly, kissing her forehead and then her pout away, “wanted to see you win your first world championship—the first of many. now, up you get, ‘cause i want you sitting on my cock.”

sue her. she was eager, exuberantly eager while she shifted her hips, allowing him to remove her panties. her own fingers worked to quickly undo his pants, pushing them and his undergarments far down enough to unsheath his length. she adjusted so that his tip brushed her slit, whining pleasurably every time the mushroomed head brushed her sensitive clit. “shit,” she whispered, overstimulated, “how are you gonna fit, you’re so fucking big?”

“don’t worry, baby.” his voice was cocksure, self-assured the only way a multi-time world champion and someone completely aware of his looks and its effect on other people. he nearly knocked the breath from her lungs with his cocky smirk as he promised, “i’ll make it fit.”

in one fluid motion, he effortlessly transitioned to slipping the tip inside her gummy walls, engendering a broken moan past her lips, arguably loud enough to shatter his eardrum. roman didn’t seem to care as he gripped her hips firmly, gravity taking over to have her impaling herself onto his dick. “holy fuck,” she gasped. her lips furled into a needy pout, one roman indulged with a searing kiss to her lips, enough of a distraction for the overwhelm that was just him filling her. she shivered and pulsed when she realized that he wasn’t even entirely in yet. that caused roman to groan, an animalistic sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“such a good girl,” he growled into her mouth. his tongue swiped the roof of her mouth, absorbing her squirming and pants with relish. roman’s other hand wandered down to rub tight circles at her needy clit. naturally, her walls spasmed; naturally, he reacted accordingly by spanking her with his heavy hand. it resonated within the metal confines of the car, and her own noises immediately followed suit.

“sir, please,” her voice was wrecked, as it only could be, but still, there was a dreaminess that roman found endearing as he set the pace for her—slow, but thorough. insistent, though not forceful. he only lifted her off half of his length, keeping her full at all times. roman kept his lips on her, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. his hand continued their marking endeavors, heating her ass in rhythm with his hips.

he sounded smug as he wondered, “yeah, baby? ‘please’ what?”

her breath faltered, fingers curling to undo the neatly tied bun of his mane, raking her nails through his illustrious mane. she didn’t yank. he seemed to appreciate that she only tugged with minimal pressure. he smiled against her lips, rewarding her with a steeper bounce, pulling out so only his tip remained before impaling her again and again. any time she attempted to formulate a comprehensible word, he swallowed it with a heady kiss and smack to her asscheek, which made her forget what she wanted to say in the first place.

not that she had much he could parse to begin with other than saying “please” and “sir” like they were the only two words remaining in her lexicon. even then, she wasn’t able to even manage a syllable that simple. that was how he seemed to prefer it based on the thorough thrusts of his hips against hers.

he groaned in her mouth just right when she tugged his tresses again, twice in quick succession and one longer tug. she wasn’t sure if she could explain to him if she was close with how he kept subsuming her mewls and starts of words into his groans and grunts. at this point, she wasn’t sure if she could call what they were doing really kissing so much as a mashing of tongue and teeth. she figured he could tell she was reaching the edge to her climax through the fervent way her walls pulsed around him like a butterfly struggling to escape its cocoon.

“close, aren’t you, babygirl?” he chuckled, her nods rapid and messy. she gripped his hair firmer, more demanding now that she teetered on that edge of release.

she begged, eyes welling with unshed tears from overstimulation, “p-please, sir! wanna cum!” her lungs gasped for oxygen when he delivered on her request, transitioning into thrusting more calculatedly, angling right up at the spot that had her seeing stars.

“right there, baby?” he murmured, repeating that particular thrust. her frame vibrated atop his lap as her climax washed over in unceremonious, reckless fashion. she wailed, throat ripping itself out from the weight of her scream. roman didn’t take that much more to follow after her, spilling those pearlescent ribbons deep inside her cunt with a deep roar briefly reminiscent of the ones preluding his spear. “fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he praised heavily, “sweetest fucking pussy for me.”

he continued thrusting through the aftershocks, arms firmly locked around her while she vibrated in his arms. “i got you, honey,” roman promised, kissing the side of her head while he tempered his pistoning down. he kept her on his lap, letting her tug on his hair enough to anchor her to this plane of existence. her breath fanned against his lips as she stole a kiss from him. he didn’t say much other than repeating his promise, forcing her lungs to follow his cadence until she could do it on her own.

when she did recover, she whispered, “sir,” her voice cracked at the edges from practically screaming herself hoarse.

“you did so good for me, baby. i’m so proud of you.” he punctuated his praise with a kiss to her hairline, not minding the sweat pearling there from exertion. from how he looked at her, how he sounded, she knew he meant it. she smiled, the first one she could feel from the past two days—she knew his pride went beyond her performance on his lap and extended to the two belts stacked atop one another in the backseat.

“thank you,” she responded with a shy heat to her cheeks. her hand moved away from his hair, resting on his heart while her fingers twirled some strands of his hair. roman smiled, one of the softer ones he reserved for his family, mainly. she flushed at the honor of being one of its recipients.

she gasped when he shifted just enough to start the car, accidentally shifting her hips to roll just right against his own. he groaned, sending her a raised eyebrow and barely contained mirth in his eyes. she shrugged, semi-apologetic. roman merely adjusted her positioning so they were both more comfortable as he started reversing out of the parking space and out into the vibrant vegas streets.

“you’re crazy,” she murmured, breathless as she glimpsed outside the window, allowing the oversaturated nightlife to consume her vision while he drove them both back to the hotel.

“yeah, well,” roman responded with the assurance of a champion, of being her champion, “i’m the tribal chief.” he said it like it was simple.

maybe it was to him. her thoughts, naturally, swirled around to the aftermath and to what monday would bring. New challengers, new threats, the inevitable paranoia—she wasn’t sure where she would stand as the weight of the belt grew more prominent on her shoulder, the responsibility chipping at the wide-eyed woman who only ever dreamt of carrying something as prestigious as the women's world championship. as if that wasn’t enough, her mind fabricated worst-case hypotheticals about their nebulous relationship given her feelings and how roman reciprocated, apparently. she wouldn’t be able to look at him without thinking of the mindblowing and grounding sex they had after wrestlemania. She didn’t factor that he would be there more frequently now, either. She could easily visualize the inevitable wetness growing at every instance. To make matters worse, she wasn’t sure what he wanted beyond just the celebratory sex, on the minuscule chance he would change his mind. or—worse—if he only did it out of pity.

before she could fret herself into the next century, roman cut her spiral short with a firm remark, eyes focused on the road, “don’t worry about tomorrow, baby.” at the red light, he tilted her chin towards him with a thumb and index finger. “just focus on me, alright? i got you. i promise. i’m not going anywhere.”

it suddenly struck her that he perhaps meant it beyond just trying to tether her back into her own body at this point, even if that intention still stood. her eyes peered up at his features as he returned to focusing on the road, applying gradual acceleration on the pedal as the car continued along the route. she parsed the relaxation in his posture, paired with the understated confidence that things would work out in their favor. her eyes flitted back to the two belts, resting like a perfect match, a picturesque display of harmony.

shifting just a little more, she rested her head along his heart, listening to his heartbeat while her own rammed at full throttle in anticipation of what the future brought her. starting with, naturally, the growing hardness still inside her.

Solana’s glazed eyes roll back and her stomach caves inward as she arches her back off the mattress. Her fingers dig into said mattress, fisting the sheets with an unforgiving grip that’s similair to the unforgiving waves of pleasure rolling throughout her entire body.

“Roman.”

His name falling from his wife’s parted lips force Roman to rip his enchanted gaze from the motion of her big, soft breasts jutting back and forth from the intensity of his thrust to the way she writhes in visible, obvious pleasure on the bed underneath him.

It makes his dick twitch, thick pink tongue dipping from his mouth and running over his bottom lip. Makes his next thrust hit harder and dig deeper. A goal achieved when the sweet, beautiful sound of her whimpers intensify. Pleasing a woman sexually has never really been an issue for Roman. Nothing he worried about because countless experience and ratings of 10/10 across the board all but prevented any sort of insecurity in that area.

In almost all areas of his life.

But Solana has always been the exception.

From the moment she sat on his lap in that restaurant what feels like a century ago, pressed her lips together, pretty eyes dipping as she powered through nerves to issue her request, she’s been his priority.

Her pleasure has been her priority. He’s only ever wanted to make her feel good. 

Most especially in the bedroom. 

With everything she’s been through, she deserves that and everything more.

So to see her eyes clench shut, to feel her slick walls gripping his dick, and to watch the way she writhes with an insatiable hunger, it’s nothing short of fuel. A drug he can’t get enough of and would gladly overdose on if it means he can spend the rest of his life being with her like this.

Being in her like this.

His eyes flick down to where their bodies connect, his breath catching as the glimpse of his dick coated white, her cream gushing and dripping from her tight ass pussy. “Shit, baby,” he groans. “You creaming all over me.” He’s rewarded with another moan that brings about a smug smirk. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know I like words.”

She groans through a closed mouth, the scowl on her face making his smirk deepen. It’s seeing the way she shifts her hands to her chest, the arch in her back depending as her hands graze over and gently squeeze her breast, however, that make his breath hitch.

Triggers an idea.

“But you know what I like more?” Roman smooths his hands up and down her hips as her eyes flutter open, reflecting a haze of lust. She’s visibly dazed, mouth partially ajar, and dark eyebrows caving inward. 

“Ro—”

His name abruptly lost in the quick motion of him switching their positions. It’s suddenly Roman whose back is against their soft, dark sheets and the sight of his wife upward instead of downward. He glides his hand to the back of her ass, as her own plant on his chest. Not once does his dick slip out, instead still seated inside her warmth. Her eyes latch onto his. “Papi watching his pretty girl on top.”

Solana’s swollen lips—still puffy from the way they made out fiercely during foreplay that only lasted a couple of minutes before her palm was smeared with his cum as she stroked his dick to life—lift into a small smile.

She says something in Spanish as he glides his hands to the front of her, traveling up and over the folds of her stomach, her head nodding back when she starts to grind on top of him.

His pupils dilate and his jaw clenches at the feel of her nails pressing into his abs and then his own hands when she travels the length of his long arms and cages his palms against her heavy breasts. Roman finds it impossible to not buck his hips to fuck up into her, especially when the first assisted thrust makes her mouth drop open and her eyes flutter once more.

It’s also impossible to look away from her, for him to not soak in the sight that can cure and heal him on even the roughest of days. 

Like those days, more often than not, that he still can’t comprehend just how the hell they ended up with seven children in under eight years. Two sets of twins, at that. With several of said kids being only a year and some change apart in age. For a man a few years shy of fifty, even with his wife being a decade younger than him, it blows his fucking mind.

But then she does that thing she does. Like she’s doing now. Where she either willingly slides herself on top of his dick or allows him to position her to where she should never leave. Moves and gyrates sensually and slowly, sometimes leaning back just enough so his eyes travel up the slope of her thick ass body and grant him the perfect view of her glistening, fat pussy lips swallowing and dripping over his big dick while she bounces up and down. Spelling her name and claiming what will always be hers.

And he gets it.

Understands fully how and why they ended up with seven kids. 

Solana’s moans and whimpers amplify as her intensify subsides just enough to let him know she’s close. He can feel it in the way her pussy is clamping and fluttering around him. The bed rocks and trembles under the intensity of their sweet, sensual, steamy lovemaking. A silent witness to the most carnal of acts over the years.

“You gon’ come for me, pretty girl?” He’s rewarded with an enthusiastic nod of her head as he gently squeezes her big ass titties, weighing heavy in his palms despite her own braced on his thighs as she continues to ride him. “Gon’ let papi fill—”

“Mommy. Daddy. We’re bored. Can you play—”

The intensity of the scream of horror that erupts from Solana’s mouth is matched only by the way she quickly scrambles to move off of Roman who hisses a quiet, “shit” that’s easily drowned under the sound of the additional set of screams. Screams from the faces of their three oldest children who stand in the doorway with ajar mouths. 

Lina, Leya, and Tama. Eyes as wide as saucers. Lina being the one to shove her siblings out of the way as they slam the door shut.

The minute it’s closed, however, the panic doesn’t end.

It only begins.

“Roman!” She shouts from the side of the bed, face flustered, sheet covering her body sweaty body. “I thought I told you to lock the door!”

“I did!” He shouts, running a hand through his hair, damp at the roots from his exertion. “That damn Lina must have picked the fucking lock.”

“Oh my God,” she breathes, one hand over her mouth. “That didn’t just happen." He can't tell if she's talking to him, herself, or them both. Though, in all honestly, it doesn't make much of a difference. They didn’t just walk in on us having sex.”

“Pretty sure they did,” he mutters, falling back on the bed, eyes shut. His head is suddenly pounding and the neglected pressure and weight of his still fully erect dick is a pain he can’t ignore but is forced to. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It did.”

“We’ve traumatized them.”

“Sol, that’s a bit fucking dramatic.”

She gasps, one hand over her mouth. Her voice is muffled against her palm but audible, nonetheless. “They’re never going to be the same.”

“We already have them in therapy. They’ll be alright.” His shrug and perhaps dismissive comment earns him a glare that makes him roll his eyes. “Baby, come on. It’s not great, but it’s not the worse thing ever.” Surely. Surely, there are many other things he can list off the top of his head that could forever scar his children. 

This isn’t one of them. 

“But you know what does fucking suck?” She frowns, and he gestures to his lap, the outline of his big dick and wet spot where cum is smeared against the sheets stare back at them. “Being so close to feeling that pretty puss—”

“Roman.” She closes her eyes and runs her hand through her blown out hair. He can’t help the way his eyes drop to her chest, the outline of her chocolate nipples through the thin sheet making his mouth water and cock twitch. “Really?”

He shrugs once more, unsure where the issue lies, hence his blunt explanation. “We might as well finish—” Solana’s fist colliding with his bicep, however, silences him. 

“Roman!”

“What?” He cuts his eyes, running his hand down his face. What’s done is done. What harm is there in them both finding their release before they tackle the fallout this….incident will have caused. 

But it seems Solana isn’t seeing it that way. 

Her pretty eyes narrow into slits that draw his gaze away from her big ass titties he’d much rather have in his mouth right now. “Our seven and six year old children just walked in on us having sex, and all you can think about is resuming?”

Perhaps he should consider his answer before providing it, but in this moment, he can’t think of any other response than what’s provided in the most casual of tones.

“Well, yes.”

It’s the wrong answer. 

Solana punches and shoves at him once, twice, three times before she stands up from the bed, ranting in Spanish the entire time, the sound of the bathroom door slamming as he closes his eyes and curses lowly. 

“Baby, was that a no?”

“ROMAN!”

Not a word is said. The only sound that fills the Reigns family living room is the volume of the TV turned low and Dulce in the corner playing with one of her squeaky toys, turned away from the unexpected emergency family meeting.

Lina, Leya, and Tama all sit on one sofa. The oldest with her hands squeezing the edge of the sofa. Tama kicking his legs up and down. Leya holding onto her latest Build-A-Bear that Roman gifted her when he took the girls out two weekends ago so that Solana could spend time with the boys. 

Meanwhile, Solana sits next to her husband who is leaned back into the sofa with his arms crossed. A position that indicates a level of nonchalance that’s the polar opposite of his wife who is perched on the edge of the sofa, hands folded gracefully on her knees.

“Well.” She eventually clears her throat, kickstarting the conversation no parent ever wants to have. “I know….I know you guys must have questions.”

Of course they do. At seven and six, the oldest set of kids, coined the OG’s of their siblings, are never short of questions to issue to one or both parents. Leya being the exception. She’s not as vocal as her siblings, often preferring to ask hers in the form of little notes, diary entries, and whispers that follow the tug of a sleeve. 

She’s like Solana. Quiet and reserved.

Lina and Tama couldn’t be any more opposite.

The eldest boy the first to ask, continuing to kick, his eyes ever so often drifting to the TV. “What were you doing?” 

It’s only one of many questions to follow, however, as Lina purses her lips together. She reaches to push back a curl that’s just one of several to slip out of the bun she did herself this morning, wanting to try to do her hair on her own. A valiant effort with a subpar outcome. “And why were you guys naked?”

“Are all your clothes dirty, mami?” 

“Did the clothes fairy take all your clothes?”

“Is it because we’re poor now?”

“Fucking hell,” Roman curses lowly. Solana subtly shifts her right thigh into his leg, the closest thing she can do without actually shoving him in front of their children who are hitting them with a number and variety of questions they weren’t fully prepared for. Obviously. “No, we’re not poor, son.” 

“Babies.” Solana manages a small smile despite the way her stomach is in knots and has been in knots from the moment the door opened and revealed her in the midst of….riding. “Mommy and daddy…..we…..well, we were playing a game.”

Lina tilts her head to the side, and Tama frowns, as if not following. Leya is the only one who’s remained silent, allowing her siblings to be her voice as she gently caresses the lilac mane of her stuffed animal. “Is that why you were sitting on top of daddy?”

Solana feels like her body is on fire. Like she accidentally hit the heat on the thermostat this morning instead of the AC. She can only imagine how flustered and reddened her face must be.

This is a mess.

“Yes,” she manages. How? She hasn’t the slightest clue. Similar to how she’s not entirely sure how to explain said game to her children who haven’t even hit double digits yet.

“What’s the game called?”

Thankfully, a lifeline is thrown as Roman decided to enter the discussion, saving his wife from Lina’s follow-up. “It’s not for kids.”

Tama’s frown deepens at the answer, his confusion written all over his adorable face. At six, he still holds a level of baby fat. Chubby cheeks and thicker limbs with a head full of hair and the best hugs for his mama. “The game is called It’s Not For Kids?”

Roman leans forward and shakes his head. “No, I’m saying the game we were playing isn’t for kids.”

Lina tilts her head to the side. “How come?”

“We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“How old?”

“Very old.”

“Like you?”

Roman opens his mouth, clearly to say some smart shit back to his smartass son only to quickly pivot. He looks over at his wife, his deep voice gruff and almost murmured, “don’t ask me to have no more goddamn kids.”

“Roman.”

Lina giggles. From a baby, she’s always been most entertained by Roman’s potty mouth. He’d be going off on someone over the phone as the girls sat with him in his office, in their matching bouncers, because they’ve always wanted to be by him, and she’d be smiling and babbling away. What he always feared causing them to fear him has always been the side of him that Lina especially has found most entertaining. “Daddy, you said a bad word.”

“It’s cause he’s old,” Tama supplies, leaning over and grabbing his feet as he explains to his sisters, “uncle Dwayne said old people can say bad words.” 

Lina nods with agreement, as if the explanation unlocked the part of her brain that’d temporarily forgotten such important information. “That’s why mommy doesn’t say bad words. Cause she’s not old.”

Roman, however, has shifted from one question to another, finally landing on the one that’s the most pressing following their short exchange. He frowns. “How old do ya’ll think I am?”

Tama doesn’t miss a beat answering with a straight face and utmost confidence. “105.”

Solana’s quiet gasp beside him is only partially registered as his eyes widen. “A hundred—” Roman runs his hand over his face, stroking at his beard he’s almost certain is going to be entirely white before the end of this conversation. “Both of ya’ll asses are getting taken out my will.”

“Roman!”

“What’s a will?”

“Something only you will be in, Leya,” he answers with an abundance of ease. At this point, her spot is guaranteed. Aria, Nick, Koa, and Kai as well, too. But these other two hellion children of his?

Yeah, they can be taken care of by Solana’s side of the family.

“The point here,” Solana steps in, stressing the word ‘point’ and clearly wanting to get things back on track. She reaches over, hand on his knee, smile directed towards the sources of the headache Roman can feel brewing. It started when he was so fucking close to coming all in his wife until they decided to be fucking cock blockers. “—is that mommy and daddy were doing what mommies and daddies do, and it’s not for kids, but we’re sorry that you saw us.”

Leya hugs her stuffed animal closer, deciding to break the silence she’s always comfortable sat in, even from the moment she said her first word. Roman and Solana have always said Leya rests in the quiet because she knows her twin will always fill it for her. For both of them. And God has that been the truth.

“Is that the game that makes babies?”

Still reeling from his disrespectful ass children’s ridiculous ass belief regarding his age, Roman is only somewhat paying attention to Leya's question that has Solana looking, once again, like a deer in headlights.

“Umm,” she starts, engaging in the quickest creation, navigation, and finalization of a mental pros and cons list that one can mentally conjure in such a do or die moment. “Y—yes. It—it is.” 

Tama’s face settles into a scowl that is reminiscent, once more, of his father who sits across from him wearing the same expression. A mirror. “You and daddy play the game a lot.”

“Is that why you have so many babies, mami?”

“She’s not having any more. I can tell you that much.”

“Roman, please,” Solana hisses, casting him a quick side glare and widening of her eyes that nonverbally implores some sort of request for cooperation vs sabotage. 

“But you were just playing it.”

“It doesn’t always make a baby, Lina.” Solana explains, reviving her smile and resisting the urge to elbow her unhelpful husband. “Just….sometimes.”

“Well, how do you—”

“Look,” Roman cuts in. The shift in his voice, deeper and with a hint of irritation, draws the focus of his kids and his wife. “The deal is this. When your mom and I are in the room with the door closed and especially with it locked, you guys aren’t to come in. We told you before we went upstairs we were going to be busy and to knock if you needed something.” Tama opens his mouth, hence Roman lifting his hand to silence what he already has a rebuttal for. “You guys wanted something. You didn’t need anything, and I don’t know how the hell you can get bored when we got this big ass house and there’s three of you.”

“Your dad is right, babies.” Solana sighs. She runs her thumb over Roman’s knee, adopting a perhaps gentler approach to what is an undisputed truth. “Your bothers and sisters are down for naps. I fixed you lunch not even an hour ago and made snacks. You didn’t really need us.”

“But beyond that—” Roman gestures between the terror non-twins with his index finger. “Ya’ll gotta stop with this picking the locks shit. I get that you were young when you first stated doing it and didn’t really know better, but you guys are older and should know better by now.” He focuses his gaze especially on the eldest of his unruly children. “And I know it was you who taught your brother and sister.”

More Tama than Leya being the student, because Roman has no doubt the most well behaved of his offspring has never utilized any of the criminal like behavior taught by her sister. She’s always just been an innocent bystander. An unwilling accomplice.

Confronted with a truth she can’t deny, Lina instead pouts and crosses her arms. “But I already showed Aria and Nic!“

“You what?” And just like that, Roman’s blood pressure shoots up once more. Or maybe it’s just been up since the kids walked in on them and is just reaching levels previously unknown. “They’re only 2 and 3. How the hell did you—”

“Well, don’t teach or show them any more, okay?” Solana forces a smile and lifts her hand to caress the back of Roman’s neck, fingers brushing against the soft curls and making gentle circular motions near his scalp. A small, subtle but helpful act that always helps to calm him down, which is evidently needed given these damn kids are two more questions or statements away from giving him a stroke. 

Tama is the first to fold, giving a dramatic sigh while looking at Sol. “Okay, mami.” 

“I won’t do it anymore,” Lina also concedes, shoulders dropping as Leya reaches over to take her hand, offering a small smile.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Roman is still confused. “Now why the hell couldn’t ya’ll just listen when I sa—”

A semi loud buzzing sound redirects focus and causes Solana’s hand to drop from its soothing position to lean over and grab her phone. Roman peers down as she taps her fingers quickly and pulls up a familiar screen. The app that connects to the baby monitors in all of the younger kids rooms. The inside of Nicolás room with his small body sitting up in the middle of his bed, still swaddled in his Cars themed bedding. Rubbing his eyes, his dark hair ruffled and a small frown on his face, Solana hits the volume just in time for a soft “mommy” to fill the living room.

“Nicky’s up,” she says more to the kids than her husband. Locking the phone and reaching it to Roman, she stands up, his eyes briefly shifting to the back of her ass that’s curved and sitting perfectly in her skin tight shorts. “Mommy’s gotta go check on Nicky, but you guys can ask daddy any more questions you have.”

It’s that last sentence, however, that stops Roman from licking his lips and reaching to palm his wife’s nice, round ass and instead look up at her with a shade of bewilderment. “Wait, what?”

Solana turns and leans over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering quickly, “you got this, papi.”

His jaw tightens. “Sol—“

Another peck to the corner of his mouth before she’s walking out to tend to their middle son. 

That leaves just him with the eldest three.

The OG’s. 

Except the time for them bombarding him with question after question, most of which he knows he can’t answer even remotely as well as his wife, is over as he has his own question. 

“How old do you think your mom is?”

Roman is far from a stupid man. His wife being ten years his junior comes at little surprise to no one. Solana, in his opinion, has always looked a bit on the younger side. A youthful face that hasn’t changed much since the first time he laid eyes on her. Thus, he expects the guess to be on the lower end of the number spectrum.

He just couldn’t have anticipated how low.

“25.”

His jaw drops just a few inches, gaze locked between Terror Child 1 and Terror Child 2. “25?” He could see it. Sure. Again, not even forty, she’s far from old, and unlike himself, hasn’t a gray hair in sight. But it’s the large gap in age guesses that has him puzzled. 

Lina nods with a big smile. “Uncle Dwayne said you bought mommy from the mommy store because she was a sweet young thing.”

“Yeah!” Tama adds enthusiastically, sharing his own horror story that has Roman’s fingers burning and itching to call and cuss out his fucking stupid ass cousin. “And cousin Zilla said you love mommy a lot cause she’s got a gyat.” Tama frowns looking between his sisters and then Roman before ultimately shrugging with defeat. “But we don’t know what any of that means.”

“They said they'll tell us when we’re older.” Leya offers the final statement with a small, innocent smile and gentle squeeze of her sister’s hand before she hugs her stuffed animal once more.

Meanwhile, Roman is back to square one. On the verge of a stroke.

There’s so much to process. So much to digest. First things first, he’s cussing out both Dwayne and Zilla. Probably firing the latter cause what the fuck?

“So let me get this straight.” Brows caved, tossing her phone on the sofa to the side of him, Roman is all hand gestures and deep scowl as he tries to make sense of the nonsense. “You think your mom is 25, but I’m 105—”

“106,” Lina interjects. “You just had another birthday when mommy was talking.”

Tama nods, face just as serious as his voice while he clarifies as if it’s the most obvious thing, “old people grow up really faster.”

Roman closes his eyes.

These. Fucking. Kids.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning back into the sofa, head back as he tries to count backwards from 10. Or 100. “Go to your rooms.”

The chorus of their giddy laughter is the backdrop to his misery. How the fuck did he end up with two such fucking nightmares of children? It’s like they spend time figuring out ways to drive him fucking mad. 

He keeps trying to tell Solana those two are gonna send him to an early grave, but she doesn’t believe him.

Bet she’ll believe it when he’s on his deathbed, and she’s holding his hand while the fucking Joker and Harley Quinn are standing at the edge of said deathbed asking when the bank closes.

Thoughts of revisiting the previously abandoned discussion of boarding school are interrupted when Roman feels movement. He snaps his head forward only to be met with Leya reaching for his arm as she climbs onto the sofa. Her stuffed animal set in the same spot where Solana previously sat. It’s the twinkle in her eyes, however, and the way she almost nervously lifts her hand to his face, that give him pause. Her small palm pressing gently against his cheek. The smile that grows as his beard no doubt tickles her before she leans over and wraps her arms around his neck. Just like that, all the tension and frustration melt away.

What’s left is the peace and calm. His hand on the small of her back as he returns her gesture when she pulls back just enough to look at him. Roman pushes her curls out of her face, seeing so much of Solana in her. Beyond just appearance. Leya inherited every bit of her mother, including Solana’s uncanny ability to soothe him on his darkest days. 

But something tugs in his chest as he stares at her. He sees those same eyes that stared back at him with innocent wonder the first time he held her. This tiny human being who he was secretly terrified of dropping or holding too tight. Not keeping his hand in the right spot to support her neck. So many concerns and worries that’ve calmed slightly but will always remain to some degree.

And it baffles him. How quickly time has passed.

Seven. Lina and Leya are now seven. 

It feels like only yesterday he and Solana were bringing the girls home for the first time, and now he can recall the way they crowded their parents when Koa and Kai were carried through the front door for the first time.

It’s fucking surreal. 

He opens his mouth to return her sentiment, the I love you, daddy she murmured in Samoan as he reflected on time that seems to be moving much too quick for his likening. 

And then the fucking deviants.

“Happy birthday, daddy!” Lina shouts happily, running into the living room and jumping on the sofa, as Leya giggles and leans into him. “You just turned 107!”

Tamasa, of course, is not far behind, instead standing before him with his head titled, tossing up and down the football that’s not that much bigger than his head with practiced ease. “Do you need a cane now?”