feat. the bloodline
warnings → smut and personal opinions (though feel free to argue with me in the comments)
bloodline masterlist. general masterlist. taglist
Jey Uso → He could pull out, but he won’t. He wants to pump you full every time, marking you up at his. He’s possessive like that. He loves watching his come leak out of you just so he can push it back in. A little too cocky about it, talking shit about how bad you needed it (you did) and already gearing up for another round. Things got worse when he became a world champion - his arrogance is now through the roof (but you love it).
Rating: 6/10. Could pull out but refuses to. Possessive as hell and intends to make you his.
Jimmy Uso → Only pulls out because he likes making a mess. Is the definition of ‘do it for the plot’ and will sometimes stay inside just to spice things up. He’s reckless on purpose and maybe a little smug too. You know he’s always running his mouth about how much you like being pumped full of his come, laughing as you writhe and whine into the mattress from just how good it feels.
Rating: 7.5/10. Points docked for unpredictability. Will sometimes finish inside you on purpose then start joking about where the baby crib will fit in the bedroom 🙄
Roman Reigns → He’s moody and you can’t always predict what he’ll do, especially when he’s pent up and frustrated. When he gets in a mood, don’t expect him to pull out at all. For him, it’s about power and control, owning you in every way imaginable. He might even laugh meanly at you, telling you that you ‘knew the risks’ when you let him in between your legs.
Rating: 5/10. Even more unpredictable than Jimmy. Doesn’t care to pull out when he’s mad or in a mood.
Solo Sikoa → An expert. A true master of the craft. Such a gentleman and always respectful. Always knows exactly when to pull out and finish on your ass or stomach. Has a perfect record and will only come inside if you specifically ask for it.
Rating: 10/10. No notes. Always a flawless performance. His self-control is off the charts.
Sami Zayn → Such a sweetheart. He wants to treat you right, but once things start getting good he can feel his control slipping. He feels you tightening around him and spills inside without even thinking, already remorseful before he’s even finished. He won’t stop apologizing, promising he’ll do better next time (he won’t).
Rating: 3/10. Means well, but usually gets too caught up in the moment to time it right.
Jacob Fatu → This man doesn’t pull out of anything nor does he want to. You knew what you signed up for when you let him dick you down like this. He fucks you in the most animalistic ways possible, his enormous cock driving you insane as he bruises your cervix with every powerful thrust. He doesn’t care if you’re on the pill or not - he’s got a breeding kink and loves the idea of knocking you up so he can never leave you alone.
Rating: -100/10. Has never pulled out of anything in his life and doesn’t intend to start now.
Tama Tonga → He’s surprisingly good at pulling out despite yapping the entire time. You’re always nervous that he’ll forget, but the man is a pro. Even when he’s spitting the nastiest, filthiest dirty talk, he’ll still pull out just in time, smirking as he does it. He doesn’t mind finishing on your face anyways 😉
Rating: 8/10. Usually yapping so much that you’re worried he’ll forget (though he never does)
Tonga Loa → Our infamous king. What more needs to be said?
Rating: 1/10. Somehow botches every time but at least he’s apologetic about it.
Zilla Fatu → Disrespectful as hell. Won’t pull out and certainly won’t apologize for it. Instead he’ll hold your hips down and tell you to ‘take that shit’ while he fills you up. So goddamn cocky that you wanna smack him, but he’s making you feel so good that all you can do is whine and take it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
all of your life, you’d been labeled the “fat friend”, the group’s comic relief, the sassy one with quick comebacks, but never the one desired. as you grew older, your style evolved, you got prettier, more confident but your weight stayed, lush curves that no crash diet or grueling workout could shrink. your mama’s voice echoed in your mind, soft and sure: “baby, none of the women in our family were meant to be small.” you’d learned to embrace it, strutting in tight dresses, commanding rooms, drawing eyes. but the attention wasn’t always what you craved. you’d heard all the clichés: “fat girls keep you warm in winter,” “big girls fuck better and feed you after,” “their pussy stays wetter.” you were no one’s fetish, no one’s secret, no one’s charity case.
flings and fuck buddies filled your past, but a real, meaningful relationship felt so distant. that was until you met zilla, that night at the club, when his hand grazed your shoulder, you braced for the usual. he’s gonna ask for one of my girls, you thought, already half-turning away. but his diamond-encrusted smile locked on you and you only. “can i get your number?” he asked, right there in front of his boys, no vanish-mode dms, no cowardice. your heart skipped, your own smile mirroring his. now, six months later, you were in your first real relationship, with a man who worshipped every inch of you.
you wanted to show him that same devotion. you knew his routine like it was your own: gym at dusk, meal prep in a cooler he’d forget half the time. today, he’d left it behind, so you took it upon yourself to deliver it. the takeout bag warmed your hands as you stepped into the gym, nodding at the receptionist. the massive boxing ring loomed in the center, but the loud, boisterous music and booming voices pulled you toward the weight room.
“shiiit, i know zilla bench ‘bout 450—his girl probably weigh more than that.”
the words slammed into you, a gut-punch that stole your breath. careless laughter erupted, slicing through the air like shattered glass. the takeout bag turned leaden, its heat searing your palm, mocking the ice flooding your chest.
you froze behind a treadmill, half-hidden, the hum of the machine drowning out your shallow breaths. that tone, that joke, you’d heard a million just like it, in high school locker rooms, at college parties, in the sting of “well-meaning” comments that claimed they just cared about your health. your body, your size, reduced to a punchline. the confidence you’d built, the love you’d poured into your curves, crumbled in that moment, leaving you feeling so small and exposed.
you clutched the bag tighter, its crinkle deafening in your ears, and waited. you needed zilla’s voice, needed to hear what he’d say when he thought you weren’t there, when the mask was off. “what the fuck you just say?” zilla’s voice cut like a machete, lethal as he prepared to defend you, silencing the laughter like a guillotine. the barbell crashed to the rack, the clang ricocheting through the gym like a gunshot. you peeked from behind the treadmill, his eyes were molten, locked on the guy who’d spoken, his broad shoulders squared, muscles taut under his tank top. “play wit’ sum safe, uce, ‘cause it ain’t me.”
the gym fell deathly quiet, the hip-hop track thumping too loud, bass vibrating in your ribcage. zilla stepped closer to the guy as his fists clenched, veins popping in his forearms. “keep her out your mouth ‘fore i go in that muh’fucka, dawg.” his boys shifted, some nodding, others stepping back, the unspoken hierarchy clear: zilla’s word was law.
your throat tightened, tears burning, but the weight of it all, the joke, zilla’s rage, the eyes now darting toward your shadow, crushed you. you turned, the takeout bag swinging against your thigh, and pushed through the doors into the cold evening air. it stung your cheeks, mingling with the salt of unshed tears. that joke looped in your head, dragging up every insecurity you’d buried, every mirror you’d avoided, every dress you’d second-guessed. you didn’t wait around for a half-assed, forced apology that would only be given to you because you happened to hear the comment. you just left.
hours later, your apartment was dim. you sat curled on the couch, still in your leggings and oversized hoodie, the takeout bag abandoned on the counter, its contents cold and forgotten. your phone buzzed constantly for the last two hours, zilla’s name flashing, but you ignored it, too sad to face him. the hurt wasn’t just the words; it was the way they’d stripped you bare, made you question if even zilla saw you the way you hoped.
a knock thumped at your door, firm but not impatient. you knew it was him before you stood. opening it, there he was — zilla, still in his gym tank, sweat dried on his brow, his eyes, usually bright with mischief, were heavy with urgency, and as he stepped inside, you noticed his knuckles, red, bruised, split, the skin blistered and angry, fresh wounds. your breath caught. he’d fought him. fought for you.
“baby,” he started, shutting the door, his voice low like he feared breaking the air. “why’d you dip like that?” he leaned against the door, arms crossed, muscles flexing under the fabric, his bruised knuckles stark against his dark skin.
you turned away, hugging yourself, the hoodie serving as armor. “i heard them, zilla. what they said about my weight.” your voice cracked, barely a whisper.
he crossed the room in two strides, hands finding your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles. “i handled it. i beat his ass.” his voice was steel, but his touch was soft. “i don’t play that shit and you know it.” he tilted your chin up, his eyes burning into yours. “you’re mine. and i protect what’s mine, physically, spiritually and emotionally.”
tears spilled, hot and fast. “it’s not just him. it’s always—the ‘fat friend,’ the joke, the—” you blubbered through sobs.
“stop.” his command was soft but firm, a warm blade through your spiral. he cupped your face, wiping tears with his thumbs, his bruised knuckles grazing your cheeks, the rough texture grounding you. “i chose you. every day, i choose you. fuck what they think.” his lips brushed your forehead, then your temple, lingering on a tear track.
he took your hand, and led you to the full-length decorative mirror in your living room. “c’mere,” he murmured, positioning you in front of it, his chest pressed to your back, arms encircling you. “look at yourself, ma. really look.” his hands roamed, lifting your hoodie to expose your dreaded rolls, his fingers tracing each one with deliberate care. “point out what i love.” his voice was low, coaxing, as he kissed the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. you hesitated, but his gaze held yours in the mirror, unwavering. “these,” you whispered, touching the rolls at your waist, soft and full.
“fuck yeah,” he growled, kissing your jawline, his lips scorching against your skin, tongue flicking out to taste the curve of your neck. his hands squeezed you, kneading gently. “what else?” he prompted.
“my stretch marks,” you said, voice steadier, fingers grazing the discolored lines on your hips.
he moved in front of you, blocking your view of the mirror for just a second. “mhm,” he murmured, dropping to his knees, kissing each mark, his tongue tracing their paths, slow and reverent, making you shiver. “i love your tiger stripes.” he teased, his cock already hardening through his shorts.
“what do you love about you?” he pressed, hands sliding up to the hem of your hoodie. he tugged it up slowly, peeling it over your head, exposing your bra and the soft swell of your breasts. “fuck,” he breathed, eyes darkening as he took you in. his fingers unhooked your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away, and his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, coaxing them to harden. “these are fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, leaning in, lips closing around one nipple, sucking gently, then harder, his tongue swirling, teasing, sending jolts of pleasure through you. he lavished attention on each breast, kissing, nibbling, making you gasp, your back arching into his touch.
“tell me,” he whispered against your skin, lips trailing to your midsection, leaving a warm, wet path. you helped him pull off your leggings and comfy cotton briefs, his hands sliding back up, lingering on your breasts, squeezing softly. “what do you love about you?”
“my thighs,” you breathed, watching them in the mirror, thick and powerful.
“goddamn right,” he groaned, hands sliding down to grip them, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, his lips brushing your shoulder. “i love when you put ‘em over my shoulders,” he murmured, parting your thighs, his breath scorching against your core as he threw one of them over his broad shoulder. “the way they tremble when i hit that spot.”
his tongue delved, slow, devoted, circling your clit with precision, sucking gently, then harder, his lips sealing around it as he hummed, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. his knuckles grazed your inner thighs, the texture amplifying every sensation as he licked long, languid stripes, then flicked fast, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue, drawing out your pleasure until you were trembling, clenching around nothing, your moans spilling freely, desperate for him. “taste so fuckin’ good,” he growled against your pussy, his teeth glinting as he pulled back to look at you, lips glistening. “could eat you all night, mama.”
he stood, shedding his tank and shorts, dick hard and heavy, glistening with precome. he lifted you to the couch’s edge, spreading your legs wide. “you ready for me?” his voice was rough with need, eyes locked on yours, searching for consent, for you.
“always,” you breathed, skin buzzing under his gaze, heart pounding in your chest.
he eased into you, unhurried, deep, the stretch making you gasp, walls fluttering around his thickness, so thick it bordered on overwhelming, filling every inch of you. his hands gripped your hips, fingers sinking into your wide hips, pulling you closer with every thrust. “you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growled, lips brushing your ear “made for me, every part of you.” his pace quickened, hips snapping with a rhythm that made your breasts bounce, the slap of skin echoing in the quiet apartment. he worshipped every inch—kissing your neck, your shoulders, your face. “prettiest fuckin’ girl in the world.”
you arched into him, nails digging into his back, catching the taut muscle under his skin, leaving faint nail markings. his thrusts deepened, angling to hit that spot that made your toes curl, your moans spilling faster, louder, raw. his hand slid between you, thumb finding your clit, circling fast, the rough texture sending sparks through your nerves, your body shaking with each pass. “look at you,” he groaned, kissing a stretch mark on your hip, his tongue tracing its silver path, warm and wet. “this body—fuck, it’s everything. i’m fuckin’ obsessed.” his words sank into you, each one a balm against the hurt, a fire stoking the coil in your belly, now burning hot.
“zilla—i’m—” you gasped, the edge so close it scorched.
“go ‘head, pretty girl. take what you need,” he urged, his thrusts relentless, each one pounding deeper, his cock dragging against your walls, sending waves of pleasure that made your vision blur. his thumb circled faster, pressing harder, his lips finding yours in a messy, hungry kiss, teeth clashing, tongue diving deep, swallowing your cries. you shattered, screaming his name, walls clamping down like a vice as pleasure ripped through you, waves crashing against every nerve, your body trembling, sated, your juices coating him, dripping down your thighs. he followed, spilling hot and deep, a guttural groan vibrating against your throat as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing inside you, filling you until it leaked.
he didn’t pull away. he stayed buried inside, lips tracing lazy patterns on your skin, kissing every roll, every stretch mark, his bruised hands never stilling, reverent. “i’m sorry, mama,” he whispered, kissing your temple, his breath warm and steady. “i’ma spend every day makin’ sure you know you’re my everything.”
you smiled, soft and sated, fingers laced with his, feeling the rough edges of his knuckles. “you already do.” he chuckled, low and warm, pulling you into his chest, his bruised hands cradling your back.
SUMMARY: You and Zilla share y’all’s two year old son, Zaire. Although, the two of you never dated, Zilla is still protective over you. One night after a show, your co-workers / friends dragged you out for a night out. While you were there, some dude was hitting on you. Safe to say, Zilla didn’t fuck with that.
WARNINGS: Choking, spanking, p in v, semi-toxic, degradation, dirty talk, hair pulling, creampie.
Monday, March 31st.
11:57 PM
“Girl, Alexis already said she’ll watch Zaire. Stop making excuses and get your ass up.” Trinity’s voice is heard throughout the hotel room as she pulls you off the bed by your ankles.
“Well bitch, i’m tired.” You grumble before Bianca groans from the bathroom. “Which is what you say all the time.” She walks from the bathroom before continuing to speak.
“Before Zilla came to WWE, you didn’t have any problem going out sometimes. Zaire is safe, and you don’t have to stay long. Just please come out.”
You groan as you sit up. “Fine. I’m only staying out for an hour or two, then i’m coming back.”
Trinity and Bianca squeal before they started picking an outfit out.
12:36 AM
You stood in front of the mirror as you smooth out the black leather mini skirt that barely covers your bottom half. The skirt was paired with a strapless red corset top and black high heel boots. You felt amazing.
The way the outfit hugged your curves made you smile. “You ready?” Trin asks as she places her jewelry on.
You nod before going over to your bag and taking your my Victoria’s Secret, “Bombshell Intense”, before spraying a few spritz on your body.
“Yeah i’m ready.” You grab your bag before walking to the door.
12:54 AM
You and the girls had made it to the club a few minutes ago. You were currently getting a drink at the bar.
“And what’s a beautiful woman like you doing all alone?” You look behind you towards the sound, seeing a middle aged man standing there.
“Excuse me?” You laugh slightly. He chuckled as well, a smirk crossing his lips as he leaned in closer. "You, sweetheart," he replied, his voice low. "Sitting all by yourself, looking like you could use some company."
Back in the VIP sections, Zilla’s eyes had found you as soon as you walked in. His mind going wild with the image of you in that outfit. That quickly left his mind as he saw some dude come up to you. His jaw clenched as the man got closer and closer to you.
“Yo Uce, you good?” Joshua, his cousin, asked from the stop in front of him. Zilla’s attention never left you as he answers his question. “Yeah..yeah, i’m fine. Imma be back.” Zilla pushes off the couch before he makes a beeline towards you and the older man.
He finally gets to you, placing his arm around your neck. “Wassup ma?” You roll your eyes as you look up at him. “Hi, Zilla.” You mumbled.
Zilla's arm remained firmly around you as he looked over at the guy. "She good, she's with me," he confirmed with a smirk while tightening his grip a bit. The man stared at you both awkwardly as he stood there.
The man standing near you couldn't help but eye the large difference in height and size between you two. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the possessive gesture from Zilla, clearly not thrilled with it. "Can I help you, man?" he asked, looking up at Zilla with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Yeah, you can back the hell up from my child’s mother.” Zilla starkly spoke.
“Oh- shit. I’m uh- i’m sorry man.” The man backed away a little.
“Man whatever- come on.” Zilla said as he softly grabbed your wrist, leading you to the clubs exit.
1:29 AM
“Oh- shitt,” the sound of zilla’s thrusts meeting your ass was heard throughout the hotel room. Zilla brings his hand up before slamming it back down on your right ass cheek.
“Yeahh- nobody gets this pussy like I do. This my shit. Say it.” Zilla’s thrusts get faster as the grip of his hand increases around your neck. “Whose pussy is this?” He says, tilting your head back to look at him. Your head spinning as the mixture of pleasure and lack of oxygen start to flow.
“It’s- oh fuck- it’s yours, Z. All yours.” You managed to get out before you see Zilla smile and taps your cheek, signaling for you to open your mouth. When you open it, spit travels from his mouth to yours.
“Swallow that shit. I’m not playing with you.” His hand unwraps from your neck as it grabs your hips, bringing your body closer to him.
“You gon have my kids?” Zilla’s hips pound into yours as he whispers into your ear. “Hmm? you gon let me fuck another kid into you, ma?”
You couldn’t speak as the knot in your stomach becomes tighter. You nod as tears start to slip down your face. “It’s too much- i’m about to-“ before the words could fall from your lips, the orgasm tore through your body, making your body convulse in Zilla’s arms.
“That’s it, ma. I’m almost done.” Zilla mumbled as he mercilessly pounded into you.
“Fuck- I miss this, mama. I missed you. You missed me?”He asked as he kissed your shoulder. All you could do was nod before you felt your insides warm with his nut.
He slowly pulled out before placing a kiss on your head. He walked over to the bathroom, coming out with a warm rag. He came over to you, cleaning up the mix of juices that ran down your leg, and placing a soft kiss on your stomach. He threw the rag somewhere in the room before picking you up and taking you to the bathroom. When your done, he picks you up again and walks over to the bed, placing you both under the covers of the bed.
“You know you mine forever.” He looked at you as you smile at him, nodding.
summary: its the last two hours of your shift at the beauty supply store, and the cute guy from out of town is peaking your interest.
pairings: zilla fatu x black!fem reader
now playing: excuse me miss by shinee.
warnings: none, slight flirting.
authors note: saw zilla’s new hair color and had to write something about it.
please fill out the form if you want to be added in tags for zilla!
it felt like the minutes were ticking by slowly as you leaned against a plastic display of braiding hair. you had a couple of hours left in your shift and no one had come in the last couple of hours.
you had done absolutely everything you could to pass the time, even cleaning over and over until the hours became seconds. but alas, you still have a bit of way to go.
as you turned the fan at the front on, you would hear the bell at the front, indicating someone had walked in. usually everyone that came in was the same local customers, so at this point you didnt think to greet whoever was at the door.
so when you heard a man with a obvious southern accent say “excuse me beautiful, can you help me with sumn’?”, it startled you a bit. you looked up to see the finest man you’d ever lay your eyes on that you knew definitely wasn’t from here.
“sorry about that, and yeah i can help. what can i help you with?” you moved away from the front, walking up to the man.
“im obviously not from here, and im just tryna buy some hair dye. can you show me where it is?” you softly giggled, covering your mouth with your hands. the man furrowed his eyebrows, a confused look on his face.
“i can definitely tell, you sound like my mommas family. and yeah, follow me.” you would start to walk towards the products area, where the box and regular hair dye was. “you lookin’ for something specific?”
“yeah, a deep red. something thats bright, but wont have me lookin’ like a clown y’know?” he spoke, slightly soft as it was a bit quiet in the building. “i see your hair dyed and everything too.”
you would laugh, running your fingers through your ginger brown hair. “thats is true, im pretty much a expert because of that. i wont have you looking crazy. have you died your hair recently?”
“nah, cut my dyed hair off like a couple of months ago. this virgin hair.” he chuckled as he finished his sentence, licking his lips at you. “im isayah by the way, but people call me zilla.”
“y/n. i’ve heard your name a couple of times this week. couple of people coming in tryna look cute to see and take pictures with you.” you turned to get the hair color for the man, hearing him scoff.
“dont understand why, i take a picture and keep it pushing. im not looking to do nothing but my job.”
“i feel you, i feel the same way. and you’re a wrestler right? i feel like these girls just want a meet cute, girl in the crowd situation.” you softly handing the hair dye to zilla, gesturing him to follow you to the front.
“are you coming to the match? i can get you a ticket if you want. its in like four hours.” as you scanned his items you stopped, softly chuckling.
“i get out in two hou- damn i get out in thirty minutes now. damn have we been talking that long?” you looked at the time again, making sure you weren’t seeing things.
“im pretty easy to talk you, i wouldn’t hold it against you not being able to resist me.” you playfully scoffed at his words, watching the man pay with his card before bagging his items in a bag. you would add a comb and some hair oil in his bag, handing it to him. “i get some freebies too? am i that handsome?”
you softly laughed, shaking your head as you started to close everything out. “you wish. youre gonna need that stuff to help you not dry your hair out and lock in that color. just follow the instructions on the box dye and you’ll be fine.”
the man nodded, pulling out a ticket and handing it to you. “and here’s that ticket i promise. i hope you come, id be nice seeing a familiar pretty face in the crowd.”
you would smile, taking the ticket. “are you flirting with me sir?”
he would turn his head from side to side slowly, a smirk on his face before looking back at you. “yo the only one here other than me, so hell yeah im talkin’ to yo fine ass. i hope i see you there beautiful.”
you gently bit down on your bottom lip as he walked out of the store, turning to wave bye before his figure and voice completely disappeared.
you held the ticket up, thankful that the address and time was neatly etched on ticket. and it was up the street from your apartment?
bet.
your timer, indicating your shift was over would blare over the store speakers, your body subconsciously moving towards the back to turn any and everything you needed to off.
you hadn’t been to a wrestling show ever, and you couldnt believe your first experience was going to be like this.
but fuck it, yolo.
as you gave the attendant your ticket, you look around the building. it obviously wasnt an arena, and you were perfectly fine with that.
you took a seat in a good spot at the corner in the front, fixing your outfit. it was a bit hot in the room, but it was nothing you couldnt handle. as you twiddled your fingers the show would start, causing you to get up from your seat.
again, this was your first wrestling show, and you didnt know how long this was or what time zilla was coming out. guess the game is call waiting.
after an hour you realized he would be the last person wrestling, absolutely preparing for it. but you were quite entertained with the matches before him, the view you were at being great to really watch the nastiest bumps.
by the time zilla started to come out, your voice was close to gone, your legs felt like jello, and your eyes were heavy. you would blink your eyes repeatedly as zillas music started, the man slowly walking through the crowd.
the moment he started to walk towards your direction the light shined directly on his hair, seeing you picked up exactly what he asked for.
you softly smiled, glad that your skills didnt fail you this time. as he walked up towards the ring your eyes would lock, a smirk on his face once he saw you.
his eyes would scan you up and down, basically eye fucking you before sending you a small wink and walking towards the ring.
as you watched his match you fully understood why all the girls wanted to look their best to see him. though in her defense, he saw her first. and that doesn’t count.
but she’ll be just like the girls before her, trying to get a small chance to see him. he won’t remember her name, but he’ll remember her every time he looks at his hair in the mirror.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The RAW afterparty was in full swing, with loud music, drinks, and people dancing. Zilla Fatu was sitting on a couch, surrounded by other wrestlers, but he wasn't paying much attention to his girlfriend who was standing nearby.
She had dressed up for the occasion, wearing a tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. She had tried to get his attention all night, but he seemed more interested in talking to his friends than spending time with her.
As the night went on, a tall, muscular guy approached her. He was one of the other wrestlers, someone she didn't know well personally but she'd seem him on NXT. Trick Williams.
She smiled politely, noticing that Zilla was still ignoring her.
The guy took a step closer, his eyes roaming over her body. "I don't think I've seen you around before. What's your name?"
"I'm Y/N, and I'm Zilla's girlfriend," she said, gesturing towards Zilla who was still chatting away with his friends.
Trick chuckled, not seeming deterred in all honesty by the fact that she was taken. He was more than a little tipsy. "Ah, I see. Well, it's nice to meet you, pretty girl. Zilla is one lucky man."
Y/N laughed, enjoying the attention. She knew she shouldn't be flirting with another guy, especially in front of Zilla, but she couldn't help it. She was feeling a bit neglected and this guy was making her feel wanted. Besides, what's the harm in making Zilla jealous?
Trick took another step closer, his hand brushing against hers. "I have to say, you look absolutely stunning tonight. That dress is driving me crazy."
He was clearly not subtle, his eyes roaming over her body once again.
Zilla finally noticed the interaction between Y/N and Trick. He stood up from the couch, a scowl on his face as he made his way over to them.
"Aye, Uce, The fuck you think you doin'?" Zilla asks, the anger making his Houston accent more pronounced as he grabbed his girlfriends wrist, his gold grillz on display as he gritted his teeth and glared daggers at the man across from her.
"Oh, I was getting ready to have a couple of drinks with Trick Daddy here. What's it look like?" Y/N smirked yanking her arm away from Zilla and resting her hand on Trick's bicep, her already bratty nature amplified by the alcohol in her system.
Zilla's eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn't believe that she was being so bold in front of him. "Baby girl, don't start with me right now," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
Trick chuckled, enjoying the tension between them. "Looks like your girl wants to have some fun tonight, Zilla."
Zilla clenched his fists, his jealousy reaching a boiling point. "She's my girl, and she's going to remember that," he growled, grabbing Y/N's arm again and pulling her away from Trick.
He led her to a secluded corner of the room, away from prying eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his grip on her arm tightening.
Y/N shrugged, a defiant look on her face. "I'm just having a little fun. Thought you were too busy ignoring me to care."
She was being a bit bratty, really getting under Zilla's skin.
Zilla's eyes darkened with anger. "You're mine," he said through gritted teeth. "You don't get to flirt with other guys and disrespect me like that."
He pushed her against the wall, his body trapping her between it and himself. "You belong to me, and only me. Don't forget it."
Y/N's heart raced as Zilla pressed her against the wall. She knew she had gone too far, but the thrill of pushing his buttons was too much to resist.
"Or what?" she challenged, her voice laced with sass. "What are you going to do about it?"
Zilla's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. "You wanna find out?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. "I'ma remind you who's in charge. Right here, right now."
Y/N shivered at his words, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through her veins. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn't help it.
"Go ahead," she whispered, her eyes locked on his. "I dare you."
Zilla smirked, clearly enjoying the fact that she was challenging him. He leaned in even closer, his body pressing against hers.
"You asked for it," he growled, before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss.
Y/N moaned into the kiss, her hands gripping his shoulders as he took control. His tongue pushed into her mouth, claiming her as his own.
Zilla's hands roamed over her body, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer to him. He bit down on her bottom lip, tugging it gently before pulling away.
"Get yo' purse and shit. We going home." He says.
Y/N nodded, still a bit breathless from the kiss. She quickly grabbed her purse and followed Zilla out of the party, the tension between them palpable.
The ride home was silent, but the air was thick with anticipation. Y/N could feel Zilla's eyes on her the entire time, his gaze burning into her skin. "Spread ya legs" he instructs her.
Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his command, but she obeyed, parting her legs as he instructed.
Zilla's hand found its way to her thigh, his fingers tracing circles on her skin. "That's it, baby girl," he murmured, "Play with that slutty little pussy for me. Get it ready. Cause I'm bout to make you scream when we get to the house."
Y/N let out a soft gasp as his fingers moved higher, brushing against the fabric of her panties. She knew that he could feel how wet she was, how much she was enjoying this.
She began to rub herself through the fabric, her eyes fluttering closed as she imagined what was to come when they got home. "Zilla..." she moaned, her voice barely above a whisper.
Zilla's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he listened to her moans. "You're so damn wet already, and we're not even home yet, needy slut." he growled. "I can't wait to punish you for being such a little brat tonight."
Y/N continued to touch herself, her body aching for more. She knew that she was in for it when they got home, but she couldn't help but feel excited at the thought of Zilla taking control and making her his again.
The car finally pulled up to their house, and Zilla parked quickly before turning to her. "Get out," he commanded, his voice firm.
Y/N scrambled out of the car, her legs shaky from the anticipation. Zilla followed her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards the house.
He unlocked the door and pushed her inside, slamming it shut behind them, "Bend over the couch. NOW."
Y/N did as she was told, bending over and presenting her ass to him. She could feel the cool leather of the couch against her skin, and she shivered in anticipation.
Zilla stood behind her, his hands running over her curves. He took in the sight of her, admiring the way her dress clung to her body. He pushed the fabric up, revealing her ass and the lacy red panties she was wearing.
"You were wearing these all night?" he asked, his fingers tracing the edge of the panties. "You were hoping to get someone's attention, weren't you? These for me or Trick hm?"
Y/N bit her lip, knowing that there was no way to deny it. "For you," she whispered, her voice shaking slightly as he ripped the panties off.
Zilla chuckled darkly. "Good girl," he said, before delivering a sharp slap to her ass.
Y/N gasped at the sting of the slap, her body jolting forward. "Count," Zilla ordered, his hand rubbing over her stinging backside.
"One," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Another slap landed on the other cheek, making her moan in pain and pleasure. "Two..."
Zilla continued to spank her, each hit harder than the last. He loved seeing her ass jiggle under his hand, loved hearing her moan and count out loud.
"Five..." she whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.
Zilla unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and ready to take her. To remind her who she belongs to.
He leaned over her, his chest pressed against her back as he positioned himself at her entrance. "You're mine, always mine," he growled in her ear.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to arch her back even more. He began to push into her, slowly at first.
Y/N cried out as he filled her, the stretch almost too much to handle. She gripped the couch cushions tightly.
Zilla didn't give her any time to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace. He pounded into her hard and fast, his hips slamming against her with each thrust.
Y/N's moans turned into screams as he fucked her, the sound echoing through the house. She was completely at his mercy, her body bouncing with each thrust.
Zilla's grip on her hair tightened as he continued to use her roughly. "Who's pussy is this?" he growled, his breath hot against her neck.
"Yours, Daddy!" she cried out, her voice breaking. "It's yours, Zilla! Only yours!"
He smirked at her response, pleased with her submission. "That's right," he said, "And don't you forget it. You belong to me, and only me."
Zilla's thrusts became even more erratic as he neared his climax. He released her hair and grabbed her hips instead, pulling her back against him as he drove deeper into her.
"I'm gon' fill you up," he groaned. "Make sure you're full of my cum."
Y/N's mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, her body completely overwhelmed. She could feel her own orgasm building, the coil in her stomach tightening with each thrust.
Zilla could feel her clenching around him, and he knew she was close. "Cum for me, princess," he demanded. "Lemme feel you come on my cock."
Y/N screamed as she came, her body shaking uncontrollably. Zilla continued to fuck her through her orgasm, prolonging it as long as possible.
Finally, he reached his own peak, burying himself deep inside her as he came with a guttural moan. He collapsed on top of her, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath.
They lay there for a few minutes, Zilla's body pinning her down. He slowly pulled out of her, watching as his cum dripped down her thighs.
"Mine," he whispered, tracing his fingers over her skin. "You're all mine."
Y/N was too exhausted to respond, her body limp and sore. She could feel Zilla's cum leaking out of her, and she knew that she would be feeling the aftermath for days.
Zilla scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. He climbed in beside her, pulling her close to his chest.
He ran his fingers through her hair, a possessive glint in his eyes. "You did so well, princess," he murmured. "You took your punishment so well."
Y/N snuggled into him, feeling safe and protected in his arms. She knew that she had pushed him to his limit tonight, but it was worth it. She loved being his. In every way.
Zilla held her tight, his grip possessive. "I love you, baby," he whispered. "But don't ever do no shit like that again. If you want my attention just say it, princess."
Y/N nodded weakly, "I love you too, Zilla," she whispered back, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I'm sorry Just wanted you, daddy.."
Zilla kissed the top of her head, his anger dissipating. "I forgive you, baby," he said. "Just remember who you belong to."
He pulled the covers over them and settled in for the night, holding her close as they both drifted off to sleep.
