WWE Stuff

Author's Note: First of all.... GOOD-MORNING TO YOU... THE BIDS ARE CHIRPIN... (IYKYK) 🤫 Alright yall.. If you're seeing this... You made it to part two of my "Demon time" moment.. aka OVULATION from last night. LOL Yall know I love Bronco Nima down. My brain just thinks about certain things when I see him... Esp, since he's a Earth sign. (Them mfs be the demon in the sheets.) 😮‍💨 Anyhow... I hope yall enjoy🫂

EDWIN "BRONCO" |

Ain’t nothing in this world like watching her relax. Not the crowds, not the lights, not even that high after a win.

Just… her, face-down on my bed, every curve glistening in the soft gold from my bedside lamp, ass up just a lil’ because she know what I like. She's so damn pretty.

“what would i want with you?? yuck”

Authors note: I was gonna drop this next week, but fuck it. I passed my final. I'll drop a few gems on yall today🥹

Warning:. Yall should know by now... PLEASE DNI IF YOU'RE A MINOR. THIS IS FOR THE 18+ CREW...

2.1K Words

READER| 

The bass from the lounge was still rattling the floor when you leaned back against the booth, nursing your drink with a little too much attitude. Trick was clowning on Ed for something dumb, Arniel and Val were giggling at their phones, and you? You were feeling yourself.

Which meant... You started pushing buttons.

You slid your nails slow along Ed's thigh under the table, just enough to make him tense, then pulled your hand back like nothing happened. His jaw flexed. He didn't say a word, just looked at you with that calm Taurus stare that promised later. That only made you worse.

So when some random leaned in, trying to catch your attention with a cocky grin, you didn't immediately shut him down like you normally would. Nah. You leaned in just close enough to make it look like you might entertain it, sipping your straw slow, eyes heavy-lidded.

Arniel's eyes went wide. Val's hand covered her mouth. Trick muttered, "Lord... she tryna die tonight."

And Edwin? He was still. Too still. That bull wasn't stomping yet but blowing steam and everybody at the table felt the ground shift and the heat rise.

You gave the random a smile—just enough to press the line. "Oh, really?" you said, tilting your head, acting like you really cared about whatever nonsense he was saying.

The next thing you knew, Ed's massive hand slid over your thigh, up, up, squeezing hard enough to make your breath catch. His voice was low, so low only you could hear it: "Play with me if you want to. You already know what's mine."

Your pulse kicked. You swallowed the smirk that almost slipped out, because yeah—you had finally woken the Taurus bull.

Trick pushed his glass away, muttering, "Y'all... she better pray for herself." Arniel and Val nodded, whispering Amen like it was gospel.

The random didn't last long, one look from Ed and dude backed off quick, mumbling something about grabbing another drink. You leaned into Ed, whispering like it was a joke, "What? You mad?"

That man just looked down at you, slow grin cutting across his face. "Mad? Nah, mami. Just wait. I got you though."

The ride back home was dead silent, except for the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. His hand stayed locked on your thigh the whole ride, fingers tapping like he was keeping time with a song only he could hear. You tried to play it cool, scrolling through your phone, legs crossed like you weren't pressed. But every time his thumb pressed into the inside of your leg, you shivered.

By the time you pulled up outside your place, your little game didn't feel so funny anymore. He killed the engine, leaned back in his seat, and turned his head slow.

"Get inside," he said, voice rough, heavy. "Now."

And you already knew—you had poked the bull one too many times.

The door barely clicked shut before your back hit it. Ed's hand pressed flat against the wood beside your head, the other gripping your jaw just hard enough to make you look at him. His eyes were dark, steady, that calm-but-deadly Taurus stare you'd been dancing around all night.

"Say somethin' now, chiquita," he murmured, voice low and dangerous, lips brushing your cheek. "You think I ain't see you? Letting that clown talk to you? Smilin' at him? Lettin' him be all in your face."

You tried to smirk, to play it off, but his grip tightened, thumb dragging slow over your bottom lip.

"Don't look at me like that," he warned, voice dropping even deeper. "You wanted me mad? Now you got it, mami. You think Imma play with you tonight?" he growled, breath hot at your ear. "Nah. You wanted to test me in front of everybody?"

He kissed you then—rough, claiming, his tongue pushing past your lips like he was snatching back what was his. You whined against him, and he swallowed it whole, hand sliding down to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there. A reminder.

"Esta mierda... es mía," he whispered against your mouth. This shit is mine.

You shivered, thighs pressing together. "Ed—"

"Nah," he cut you off, dragging your body tight against his chest. His breath was hot at your ear. "Ain't no 'Ed' right now. You mine. You hear me?"

Your breath caught. You nodded, but he wasn't having it. His palm slid lower, grabbing the curve of your ass, squeezing hard.

"Use your words, baby," he said, that Cali drawl turning thick, Spanish slipping through. "Dímelo, chiquita. Tell me whose pussy this is."

"Y-yours," you gasped, heart racing.

He chuckled, low and mean, like you'd just confirmed what he already knew. "That's right. Always mine. Don't ever forget that."

His hands were everywhere now, huge palms on your waist, up your shirt, tugging at your thighs until he lifted you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing. He carried you deeper inside, every step deliberate, his mouth biting at your neck, teeth leaving little marks.

You clung to him, heat flooding your core, every part of you trembling under his grip. He laid you down on the couch, standing over you for a moment, chest heaving, eyes locked on you like you were prey that had finally stopped running.

"Take it off," he commanded, voice like thunder. "All of it. Everything. Don't make me ask you twice."

You obeyed.

Once your clothes were gone, his hands were everywhere, palms on your waist, up your shirt, tugging at your thighs until he lifted you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing. He carried you deeper inside, every step deliberate, his mouth biting at your neck, teeth leaving little marks.

You clung to him, heat flooding your core, every part of you trembling under his grip. He laid you down on the couch, standing over you for a moment, chest heaving, eyes locked on you like you were prey that had finally stopped running.

"You wanna play games in public, huh?" he said, voice gravelly, fingers tugging at your shorts and panties until they slid down your legs. He bent low, lips brushing your ear as his hand pressed between your thighs. "Now I gotta show you not to play with me, mama."

His teeth grazed your skin, his accent curling every word, every Spanish endearment like a brand.

"Te dije... siempre mía, chiquita."I told you... always mine, baby girl.

And the look in his eyes left no doubt—you weren't leaving that couch until he had proven it.

Your legs jerked when his tongue touched you, soft at first, then slow and purposeful. His hands were braced on your thighs, keeping you wide open, dragging his tongue from base to clit like he had a damn grudge. He didn’t play around. He devoured.

You tried to squirm. He pinned you with a grip that said stop running. His thumb returned to your core, pressing right against your entrance.

You gasped.

“Yea,” he rasped, looking up at you, mouth slick. “Same spot, huh? That’s why you meltin' right now.”

“I wasn’t—I just—”

“You just wanted my attention?” he mocked with a dangerous smile, sliding the thumb inside just a little, watching your hips react. “Mira eso… look how you clench around just this. You ain’t slick.”

Then he flicked his tongue over your clit in time with the pressure of his thumb—and you broke.

Your moans were loud, unfiltered, helpless. Your legs twitched, your head tipped back against the cushions, and still, he didn’t let up.

“Daddy—please—”

He froze. Slowly raised his head. “What’d you just call me?”

Your chest heaved, body trembling under his weight. “I said… Daddy.”

A long pause. His pupils dilated.

“Say it again.”

You swallowed. “Daddy.”

And then he snapped.

He climbed up your body like a storm, and with one hard, slick thrust, he was inside you, stretching you deep and immediate. No build-up. No warning.

You cursed into his shoulder, nails digging into his biceps. He wasn’t letting you go. Not tonight.

“Eso,” he hissed in your ear. “Say it while I’m in you. Say it when I make you cum.”

“F-fuck—”

“This what you wanted, right? Wanted Papí to set you straight?” He grunted, hips pistoning into you, each stroke knocking the air out of your lungs. “You wanted to test me? Te dije—this pussy mine.”

You were seeing stars, literally clutching at him like gravity had given out. He kissed you , hot and deep, tongue dragging over yours as he pounded into you like he had a score to settle. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

But you knew he wasn’t done.

He flipped you over, chest to the cushions now, ass up. His hand came down with a sharp slap across your cheek, and you moaned again. Loud. Shameless. Your walls fluttered around nothing.

“You hear that?” he growled. “That’s the sound of a pussy that knows who it belong to.”

And then he buried himself inside again.

One hand braced at the small of your back, the other gripped the nape of your neck. That same thumb dragged down your spine, right back between your cheeks, pressing against your other entrance as he fucked you.

“You act out in public, I gotta remind you in private.”

You sobbed into the cushions, overwhelmed, ruined, folded like a damn prayer.

But he wasn’t done.

“Tell me,” he panted. “Say it. Say whose it is.”

“Yours!” you cried. “It’s yours, Daddy, I swear—fu—please!”

He groaned like the words turned him feral. His hips got rougher. He reached down, circling your clit, pulling the orgasm out of you like he owned it. Like it owed him something.

You screamed his name, your body locking up as your climax tore through you. He didn’t stop. Not even when your body tried to squirm away. He pinned you down, fucked you through it.

“Don’t run from me, mami. Take it.”

You were damn near crying when he finally groaned, slamming into you one last time before his hips stuttered and he emptied himself deep. You felt it—all of it—his weight collapsing onto you as you trembled beneath him.

Breathless. Mindless. Ruined.

You whimpered against the pillow. “I’m sorry… I won’t do it again…”

He laughed, dragging his lips across your shoulder.

 “Yes, the fuck you will,” he whispered. “But just know...every time you do, I’m reminding you exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Siempre mía, chiquita.”

Always, Mine.

Next Morning

9:03 AM.

You were supposed to be up by now. Your body usually woke naturally—maybe a stretch, maybe a scroll—but today?

Today, you were comatose.

The sun peeked through the blinds. A soft breeze slipped in through the cracked window. Somewhere, birds were chirping. But in that bed? Nothing moved.

Except for Bronco’s arm slung over your waist like a 50lb anchor.

You were curled into his chest, face tucked beneath his jaw, knocked out from hours of being broken down and folded into a human pretzel. Your thighs still trembled every now and then. Your lips were swollen. Your voice? Probably still hiding under the couch.

Edwin, on the other hand? Wide awake. Laying there in his victory.

Phone in hand, chest bare, scrolling through IG while your body recovered from the trauma he delivered.

Then it started.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The Chaos Crew

Arniel: Uh... it's 9 AM... She ain't sent not 1 motivational text... Is she dead? Trick: She def gone be limpin today. Aint no way after what we witnessed at the spot last night Lucien: Yea... knowin Mr."2EZ" he ain't take it "EZ" on her🤣 Val:  Y/N? Girl say somethin. We scared for you LMAOO!  Leah: SEND SOMETHING! 

Ed laughed out loud and shook his head. You were still knocked out, drooling slightly into the pillow, completely unbothered by the group’s growing concern.

So what did he do?

He answered them himself.

Bronco/Nima🐂 : GM gang😊 Bronco/Nima🐂 : She's.... resting  Bronco/Nima🐂 : Yalll can chill. I ain't kill her... Just rearranged a few organs. She'll be alr tho.  💪🏽

Delivered.

The chat erupted instantly.

Arniel: BOOOOOY👀 Trick: This mf  said "Resting" like she just had surgery 🤣 Gtfo Ed... Lucien: I told yall 🤣 Val: Not REARRANGED A FEW ORGANS! PLSSSSS! I'm sending a care package. Leah: Nah I’m telling HR Arniel: So what you sayin is… I need to bring her crutches today? Bronco/Nima🐂 : Just help her stretch before yall train later... I already handled the warmup. 

You groaned, eyes finally blinking open, lips dry, voice raspy. “…who you texting?”

Ed leaned over, pressed a kiss to your temple, and casually handed you your phone.

“The crew. I handled it, mami.”

You unlocked your phone and saw the chaos. You didn’t even have the strength to scroll. “Edwin…”

He kissed your bare shoulder. “What? They asked. I answered.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He smirked. “You love me and my demon dick. Own it.”

You tried to roll away. You couldn’t even move properly.

Then another text popped in:

Arniel: just bring her to the PC in a wheelchair. we got the paddles ready if she flatlines 😭 Val :Might as well send flowers. Rest in Peace to her pelvic floor

You dropped your phone. “I’m not going to workouts today.”

“You ain’t gotta go nowhere, chiquita,” Ed said, dragging you back into his arms. “Your job right now is to hydrate, recover, and remember what it said.”

You whined against his chest. “You’re so annoying.”

But even still, your legs curled around his, and your hand found his chest.

Because yeah… That man tore you up. And had the nerve to speak on your behalf in the group chat while you were still asleep.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

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