𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔰✑

𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢… 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔲𝔰𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔞𝔯𝔶

♡ about me

hello, and welcome to my masterlist! my name is mads, i'm 23, and i go by she/her pronouns. i haven't been writing that long but i figured i'd go ahead and organize my page a bit to make it easier to navigate!

♡ rules

all of my stories contain content that is not suitable for underage readers- please remember you MUST be 18+ to request, follow me, or engage with my content. ageless/underage accounts will be blocked.

♡ who i write for

i write for both wwe and aew!

wwe:

◦ og bloodline (roman reigns, jey uso, jimmy uso)

◦ new bloodline (solo sikoa and tama tonga)

◦damian priest

◦ dominik mysterio

aew:

◦ kenny omega

◦ will ospreay

◦ jon moxley

◦ hangman adam page

requests are currently OPEN!

◦ wwe masterlist

Author’s Note -> She’s baaaaaack! Been a while but life has been sooooo chaotic lately and I’ve just been so busy that I’ve had like, zero time to write. 😭 Had this idea in the chamber though so I had to let y’all know I’m still kicking lol. Don’t know how often I’ll be posting but I’m gonna try my best to get a little more consistent on here but anyways… I’ll let you get into it. Happy reading! 🥰

Plot -> Traveling into the Windy City for work was nothing short of chaos. But who knew that spilled coffee and an unexpected meeting of a stranger would lead to something like…this?

Warnings -> Light cursing, Alcohol, Oral sex (F!Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 4.1k

The Chicago wind had no mercy. It whipped at you in sharp bursts as you crossed from the parking garage into the hotel lobby—sharp enough to make your eyes water as you dragged your suitcase behind you. Snow flurries clung to your coat, melting dark patches into the fabric.

You had been on the road all day. Six hours of icy highways, flashing hazard lights, and the perpetual thrum of holiday traffic that had drained you completely. All you wanted was your room, your bed, and the large peppermint mocha you had grabbed in a drive-thru thirty minutes ago—the one currently radiating heat through the paper cup in your hand. 

Inside the lobby you were greeted with the faint scent of cinnamon and pine, the hotel’s attempt at something festive. Garlands framed the walls, a massive tree twinkled in the corner, and carols hummed softly from the speakers. You pushed to the front desk, sliding your ID over with a tired smile.

The clerk glanced at it, then at you. “Here for that wrestling event?”

“Working it,” you murmured. “Marketing.”

Your job wasn’t glamorous—coordinating promotions, scheduling social content, finalizing graphics—but it kept you moving and now it had brought you here for World’s End at the NOW Arena. You were set to spend the next three days buried in sponsor activations and last-minute promotion work until bell time.

Key card in hand, you moved towards the elevators. The ride to your floor was slow, the silence broken only by the occasional ding. You stepped out, already picturing your bed, shoes off, mocha in hand.

You turned the corner toward your room—

—and slammed into something, no, someone.

The collision jolted up your arm. Your coffee lurched violently; the lid popped, and half the drink splattered across the patterned carpet in a steaming, peppermint-scented disaster.

“Oh—bloody hell—sorry!” The man’s voice was rich with a British accent, pitched with genuine alarm.

You froze, starting down at the half-empty cup in your hand. “That,” you said slowly, “was the only thing keeping me alive at the moment.”

“I—shit, I didn’t see you, love.” He stepped back, lifting his hands in a silent apology. When your gaze lifted, recognition hit hard.

Will Ospreay, AEW’s golden boy. He was wearing a gray hoodie and joggers, hair a little tussled like he’d just come in from the cold. You’d seen his face a hundred times on promotional materials this month, including the World’s End posters plastered all across Chicago.

His brow furrowed. “I’m an idiot. Let me make it up to you. I’ll buy you a drink—coffee, whiskey, whatever you want.”

You arched a brow. “It’s seven-thirty. And I was aiming for caffeine, not alcohol.”

“They do coffee.” He gave a half-smile, the kind that looked as though he was used to winning people over. “Least I can do, yeah? Or I’ll feel like a right dickhead all night.”

You could’ve said no—you should’ve said no—you were tired, cranky, and in no mood to sit at a bar with anyone, let alone a man who just spilled your last ounce of energy into the hallway carpeting. But there was something in his persistence, in the way he was standing there waiting for your answer instead of shrugging and walking off, that made you pause. The day had already been a mess, maybe a drink (coffee or otherwise) wasn’t the worst idea.

You sighed. “...Fine. But if the coffee’s bad, I’m blaming you.”

His grin was quick and bright. “Fair enough.”

The bar was tucked into the corner of the lobby, warm and dim, scattered with other guests murmuring into their drinks. Fairy lights strung along the shelves filled with arrays of different liquors. A muted sports channel flickered on the TV. Instead of heading for the counter, Will motioned towards an empty booth tucked against the wall, its high back giving you both some privacy.

You slid into the seat, the vinyl cold before your body heat softened it. He sat across from you, stretching his legs under the table—long enough that you could feel the faint brush of his knee against yours before he shifted just enough to keep the contact intentional.

The bartender appeared.

“Espresso martini,” you said. “Make it strong.”

Will’s mouth tipped up at the corner. “So you were in the mood for a proper drink.”

“After today? Absolutely.”

The first few minutes of conversation were easy but shallow—weather, travel, the miserable cold. The booth changed things, though. You couldn’t turn half-away from him like you could on a stool; every glance landed right on him. And he was looking back just as steadily.

“So, marketing,” he said eventually, his fingers idly tracing the condensation on his glass. “You’re the one making sure the arena’s full?”

“That’s the idea,” you said, taking your first sip. The bitter coffee and cold vodka bit pleasantly at the back of your throat. 

“Then I guess I owe you,” he said, his grin slow, deliberate. “Should probably be on my best behavior.”

“You?” You let a little sarcasm sharpen your voice. “A bit late for that, isn’t it?”

His laugh was low, and it made something warm curl in your stomach. 

The drinks disappeared faster than they should have. The stories got better—his about chaotic tour days and missed flights, yours about last-minute sponsorship nightmares. Somewhere in your second martini, you realized you were leaning forward, elbows on the table, studying the way his eyes sharpened when he focused on you.

By the third, the air between you felt different. Every glance held a little longer. Every accidental brush of his leg felt intentional now. He spoke softer, making you lean in to hear him, his voice curling low around your name like he was trying it for later.

Last call came too soon. He didn’t even pretend to suggest going your separate ways.

“I’ve got drinks upstairs,” he said. “And I’m not ready for this to end yet.”

You held his stare for a moment. Long enough to feel the hum of tension under your skin, long enough for him to tilt his head like he was ready to close the gap himself.

Finally, you pushed your empty glass aside. “...Alright, Ospreay. Lead the way.”

The elevator doors slid shut behind you, enclosing you both in the small, warm space. Your fingers tightened around your bag strap, muscles still tense from the long day of travel and the buzz lingering from the bar. Will was close, and every subtle shift—his shoulder brushing yours as he moved—felt like static running across your skin.

He didn’t speak at first. Just that quiet presence, leaning slightly back against the wall, letting the space between you compress without any pressure…yet. The faint scent of him—soap, cedar, a trace of something else—consumed your senses entirely.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and teasing. “You know… I keep thinking about that coffee.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what about it? The fact that you nearly ruined my evening?”

“No,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “The way you looked after. Flustered… frustrated. Honestly? I kind of liked it.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and your pulse picked up. “You liked seeing me frustrated?” you asked, voice sharper than intended, though there was a hint of curiosity underneath.

He stepped a fraction closer, letting the space between you tighten. “Yeah. That glare, the tension in your shoulders, the way you didn’t hide it… I liked that. A lot.”

You shifted slightly, caught off guard by the intensity. “So, watching me lose it is… entertaining to you?

“Far more than entertaining,” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, letting the warmth radiate into your skin. “It’s… captivating. Makes me wonder what else I could do to get that reaction.”

At that, you froze—half stunned, half aware of the sudden pull in the small space. His smirk deepened, almost smug, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on you. He didn’t say another word. Instead, he leaned his shoulder just slightly against yours, enough to press subtly, deliberately.

Your gaze flicked down to the slight curve in his chest against yours, then back up to his eyes. His hand rested lightly against the wall just above you, close but not touching. The heat between you was sharp, a static hum you could feel on your own skin.

You swallowed, breath catching. Your fingers twitched at your sides, unsure if you wanted to close the gap or run, but every instinct told you to stay. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with cocky amusement, as if he could read every thought racing through your mind—and liked it.

The elevator pinged your floor, and the doors slid open, but the tension didn’t break. His body remained angled toward yours as if the world beyond the doors didn’t exist. The unspoken electricity between you hummed louder than any words could, leaving the promise of what could come next suspended, and almost unbearable.

You stepped out first, letting a faint sigh escape you as if to release the tension in your shoulders—but the moment you moved, Will’s shoulder brushed yours again, deliberate, teasing, pulling a tiny gasp from you.

He didn’t speak. He just followed, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him behind you, his presence like gravity. Once inside the room, the soft lamplight cast warm shadows over the walls. The heater hummed faintly, making the space feel smaller, more private. You shrugged off your coat and let it fall to the chair.

Will leaned against the desk, arms relaxed but his gaze steady, sharp, and assessing. There was a subtle tilt of his head, a faint smirk, and a quiet confidence that made the air between you feel taut, almost impossible to ignore.

“You want a drink?” he asked, voice low, teasing, yet casual, as if daring you to refuse.

“One won’t hurt,” you said, sitting down on the desk chair, trying to keep your voice steady, though your pulse betrayed you.

He moved to the minibar with that effortless ease, pouring two glasses of whiskey. When he handed you one, your fingers brushed briefly, a spark passing through you. He didn’t comment, just let his gaze linger, deliberate and unflinching.

“Cheers,” he murmured, letting the word hang between you, heavy with intent.

You took a slow sip, trying to calm your heartbeat, though the heat in the room made it impossible. He perched on the edge of the desk, leaning slightly forward, just enough to occupy the space without closing it entirely. 

Summoning courage, you let a small, teasing smile curl at your lips. “Still staring,” you murmured, voice low, letting the words hang in the tension between you.

Will’s smirk deepened, easy, deliberate, eyes dark. “Maybe I’m just… making sure you survived the day,” he said, though the heat in his gaze betrayed more than concern.

“Oh?” you murmured, tilting your head, letting your fingers trace the rim of your glass, deliberate and slow. “I might have thought… you were enjoying watching me squirm a little.”

A low chuckle rumbled from him, rich and amused. “Maybe I was,” he said, leaning slightly closer, the weight of him pressing subtly toward you. “But I didn’t expect you’d admit it so easily.”

Your pulse jumped, a thrill crawling under your skin. “Maybe I’m curious,” you whispered, teasing, “curious to see who’ll break first.”

Will’s smirk faltered just enough to betray the effect your words—and the way you were holding his gaze—were having on him. “Curious, huh? Or maybe you’re just waiting for me to make a move,” he murmured, voice low, dark, playful.

You tilted your head, letting your fingers drift lightly along your glass, daring him without words. “Maybe I am,” you whispered, letting the tension stretch between you.

The space between you thickened. Every glance, every subtle movement became part of a silent, electric game. Will’s eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your gaze, and the small smirk on his face sharpened.

Without a word, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly but not harshly. Before you could react, he tugged you up from the chair, drawing you flush against him. The sudden motion made your breath hitch, your body pressed against his as he steadied you with ease.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, low and rough, the words barely more than a growl, full of intent. In one fluid motion, he wrapped both arms around you, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively curled around him as he carried you across the room, each step heavy with intent.

He didn’t pause when he reached the bed—he lowered you only far enough for the backs of your thighs to brush the sheets before pushing you fully down, his weight following immediately, pinning you beneath him. His mouth was on yours instantly, the kiss deep and unrestrained, heat sparking in every movement.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, then slid down over the firm lines of his back, feeling the flex and pull of muscle beneath your fingers. He groaned into the kiss, a sound that vibrated against your lips, his hands roaming—urgent, searching—down your sides until they gripped your hips, holding you flush against him.

The teasing from earlier was gone. There was no space left for games—only raw need. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck in a trail of hungry, claiming kisses, his breath hot against your skin.

“Been wanting this all night,” he murmured against your pulse, the words half-confession, half-warning.

You arched into him, a soft gasp escaping as his hands wandered, bolder now, finding every curve, every place that made your breath catch. He met your gaze briefly—dark, determined—and then his mouth was on yours again, faster, hungrier, like he was making up for all the time wasted holding back.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he responded with a low, guttural sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine. His hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against bare skin, mapping every inch as though he’d been waiting years to memorize you.

Without breaking the kiss, he pulled your shirt over your head and tossed it aside, his eyes darting over you like he didn’t know where to start—then choosing everywhere at once. His mouth found your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your chest, each touch more urgent than the last.

You shifted beneath him, the friction making your breath hitch, and his grip tightened on your hips. “You’re driving me mad,” he growled, voice low and ragged. He pushed you deeper into the mattress, his body pressing hard against yours, leaving you no doubt of exactly what he meant.

Your hands roamed down his chest, sliding lower, brushing along the waistband of his joggers just to feel the sharp intake of his breath. That was all it took—his control snapped. He caught your wrists, holding them above your head with one hand while the other fumbled with his sweats, eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world worth seeing.

They hit the floor, his weight settled over you again, and then his mouth was on yours, fierce and unrelenting. Every movement, every kiss, every touch said he wasn’t going to stop—not now, not until he’d had every bit of you he’d been craving.

Your breath caught when his hand slid lower, fingers dancing along your exposed skin just enough to make your pulse spike. His eyes never left yours—dark, intent—like he wanted you to feel every second of the moment before it happened.

His mouth caught yours again—hot, urgent—while his hands roamed over newly bare skin, gripping, exploring, staking his claim. He shifted his weight just enough to press you deeper into the mattress, the air between you heavy with heat and intent. Every movement felt deliberate, driven by the kind of need that had been simmering far too long, now finally unleashed.

He didn’t waste another second. One hand slid down the length of your thigh, gripping firmly before dragging back up to your hip. His gaze locked on yours for a moment—dark, intent—before he shifted lower, his mouth trailing down your neck, your collarbone, the curve of your chest.

You felt the sheets tighten under you as he slid further down, his hands urging your legs apart. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms and, with one smooth motion, pulled them down and off, tossing them aside without breaking his focus.

The heat of his breath ghosted over your bare skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine. His lips brushed your inner thigh—slow at first, almost teasing—before he pressed firmer, open-mouthed kisses there, each one pulling a softer sound from you. His hands gripped your hips like he needed you still, anchoring you in place as he worked his way higher, closer, but still keeping you wanting.

“P—please,” you breathed, struggling to find your voice. 

He stayed there for a moment, looking up at you from between your thighs, his gaze dark and unwavering. The heat of him so close made your breath hitch, and the room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you, suspended in that electric tension.

Your fingers tangled in his hair instinctively, tugging slightly, and he responded immediately, a low sound of satisfaction rumbling from him. His hands pressed lightly against your thighs, steadying you as he held your attention with nothing more than that intense stare, his intent clear without a single word.

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he leaned back just slightly, letting the anticipation stretch, letting you feel the weight of his focus on you. Then, inch by inch, he closed the gap again, every brush of his lips, every movement deliberate, building the heat between you to something almost unbearable.

His head dipped to the valley between your thighs, his breath above your core warm and teasing as he watched your movements carefully. Your resolve was waning quickly, your body seemingly losing its sense of control with involuntary twitches and movements—aching for him to close the distance. Finally, his mouth latched onto your soaking heat, relishing in the sweetness of your desire for him. For him. His guttural moans vibrated through your core, steadying himself with his arms wrapped around your thighs as if you were the one thing that could quench his thirst. 

Your moans echoed off the thin walls of his hotel room. His name left your lips in glorious praises, pushing him harder as his tongue skillfully lapped at your aching folds, and you couldn’t help but arch toward him, caught between the need to pull away and the pull to let go entirely. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, steadying you as his focus sharpened, driven purely by his desire to please you. To hear you. To taste you. 

Your fingers clung to the damp, golden curls on his head for dear life, feeling a familiar pressure building in the pit of your stomach. Your movements became more involuntary, your limbs beginning to shake and your hips taking on a mind of their own—anything to bring him impossibly closer. Just when the anticipation reached its peak, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you suspended in the electric quiet, every nerve on edge, every breath caught in your chest.

His gaze met yours, dark and knowing, and a slow, teasing smile curved his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he moved back up your body, closing the distance, his presence overwhelming and magnetic. The intensity between you surged again as he leaned over you, pressing close, every inch charged with the same desire and teasing tension that had been building all night.

You arched instinctively into him, fingers tangling in his hair, and he caught it, lips brushing against your ear. “I can feel it,” he whispered, voice thick with intent. “You’re aching for me, aren’t you?”

A small gasp escaped you, and he smirked, teasing. “Say it,” he murmured, tilting his head, eyes dark and unreadable. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitched, words caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and the anticipation coiled tighter. Every second stretched, every brush of his lips and fingers urging you further, until he leaned down fully, weight pressing into you.

You tried to hold back, but he was merciless—fingers tracing along your ribs, lips brushing your shoulder, teasing little nips that made you flinch and squirm. 

Then, lower, teasing, “Tell me what you want… or I’ll stop.”

Your nails bit into his shoulders, the thought of him pulling away unbearable. “I want you,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

His smirk deepened. “Good girl.”

The sound that tore from you—half gasp, half moan—was instant, raw, and louder than you meant. His eyes went wide, genuine shock flashing across his face.

“Oh… fuck,” he breathed, voice rougher now. “You like that,” he murmured, almost to himself. The shock lasted only a moment before something primal flickered to life in his gaze, the heat in him intensifying.

“God…” he exhaled, voice rough now, “you have no idea what you’ve just started.” His grip on your thigh tightened, thumb pressing into your skin like he needed to ground himself.

He leaned closer, lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath hot. “Now I’m not just gonna give you what you want… I’m gonna make you beg for it.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and desire tangling in your chest. Your hands clenched in his hair, tugging him closer, urging him, needing him—but he only smirked, enjoying the control, the way your body betrayed you.

He shifted slightly, pressing himself more firmly between your thighs, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there in slow, deliberate lines, teasing, tasting, making your breath hitch. Every touch was precise, calculated, meant to make you ache for him.

“You’re already trembling,” he murmured, voice low, almost a growl. “Imagine how desperate you’ll be by the time I’m done.” One hand gripped your hip, the other tracing daring paths along your body, fingers teasing over sensitive spots, stopping just short of what you wanted most.

Your breath came faster, your pulse thundering in your ears. “W-Will…” you gasped, voice trembling. “I… please,” you gasped, voice shaky, need lacing every word.

He caught the sound like a spark, and a slow, wicked smile spread across his face. “That’s right… tell me you want it,” he said, lips brushing your ear, breath hot. “Tell me, or I’ll stop right now—and I don’t think you want that, do you?”

The need had you pinned, every nerve on fire. “I… I need you,” you whispered, words desperate and raw, spilling from your lips without thought.

A guttural growl ripped from him, low and animalistic. “Good girl,” he murmured again, his eyes darkening with desire, and the moan that escaped you at that moment was enough to undo any restraint he had left.

The second your desperate words left your lips, he lost all control. He pressed himself fully inside you, hips moving with a relentless, consuming rhythm that left no room for hesitation. Every motion was precise, fierce, claiming.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he captured your lips in a harsh, demanding kiss. The sounds that tumbled from you—moans, gasps, shivers—drove him further, his movements growing faster, harder, hungrier.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, voice thick with need, eyes dark and blazing. “God… Y/N.”

Your body arched into him, breath catching in ragged gasps. “Please… don’t stop,” you gasped, voice trembling with want.

A low, guttural growl vibrated from him. His hands roamed your body with urgent precision, teasing, gripping, pressing into every sensitive spot. “That’s it… let go for me,” he whispered against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder.

Every kiss, every touch, every movement built, spiraling together, faster, hotter, until your bodies were moving as one, completely in sync. And when it finally hit—sharp, overwhelming, unrelenting—both of you shattered together, gasps and moans mingling as your muscles clenched and your hearts pounded in perfect, consuming rhythm.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, voice low and thick with desire, “God… you’re incredible,” as he held you close, eyes roaming your face, savoring every inch of you.

You lay against him, chest to chest, still flushed from your shared release, every nerve alive.

His fingers traced your arm, slow and deliberate. “You’re something else,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

A shiver ran through you. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you whispered, letting the tease slip through.

He smirked, pulling you closer. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Your hands traced his chest. “I hoped not,” you breathed.

Author’s Note -> Hiiiii :) had this sitting in drafts so I decided to finish it… and I’m– 🤤. Will be working on more stuff in the coming days, so stay tuned! Also, my lovely friend @zyvngi made this clip and I just… yeah there was no way I wasn’t using it lol. As always, happy reading y’all!

Pairings -> Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Fluff (if you squint), Cursing, Drug Use (Weed), P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 4.4k

You enter Jon’s house as you always did, swinging the door open without knocking and waltzing right inside– your body collapsing on his living room couch. Media had kicked your ass today, more than usual, and you were definitely feeling the effects of it. Jon happened to have a day off today, one that was hard to come by, especially with the work you two did at WWE– him being a talent and you a producer. That’s how the two of you met 4 years ago, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

“Well, good afternoon to you too, princess.” Jon teases, as you shoot daggers at him. 

“I don’t know how much more I can fuckin’ take. Paul’s driving me crazy, the work is endless, and absolutely nobody seems to appreciate how much work I’m putting into this to make shit happen every show. I’m about to fuckin’ lose it.” You groan, flopping down onto the couch and rubbing your eyes.

Jon leans against the island countertop, grinning, clearly amused by your frustration. “Sounds like you’ve had a day… wanna vent or just keep it low-key?”

You sigh dramatically, sitting up on the couch. “No, no, I should probably let it all out. I swear, I’ve been busting my ass, and every time I think I’m ahead, something else gets thrown on me. And everyone thinks I’m this superhero that can just fuckin’ fix it,” you pause, rubbing your temples. “I just want a break, but I feel like there’s no time to take one.”

He nods sympathetically, then walks over to the end table and pulls something from the drawer. “You really need to take a break though, you keep goin’ like that, you’re gonna burn yourself out.”

You laugh bitterly, half-glancing at him. “I know, I know. It’s like I don't even know how to take a break anymore. It’s always work, work, and more work.”

Jon takes out a joint from his pocket and lights it casually, raising an eyebrow at you. “You want some help with that?”

He takes a slow drag, exhaling slowly as you stare at him– shocked.

“You… smoke?”

He laughs, shrugging nonchalantly as he continues to puff on the joint. “Yeah, ‘s not somethin’ I bring up, but yeah, sometimes it helps me unwind. And you look like you could use a lil’ somethin’ to take the edge off.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “I just… I never thought you’d be the type to do… that.”

“What, smoke?” he chuckles. “Well, you never really asked. Trust me though, a little bit won’t hurt. It’s just us, Y/N. No work, no stress…” he grins, taking another drag then passing it to you.

You’re hesitant, but also curious. You take the joint from him, your voice getting soft.

“I don’t know… I’ve never done… this before.”

Jon smirks at you, sitting down and leaning back on the couch as he grabs another joint– one for himself. “First time for everything, right? No pressure, ma. Just take it slow.”

Nervously, you take a drag, coughing slightly. “Oh my god…” 

He laughs softly, leaning closer to you and offering you a reassuring smile. “Yeah, it can be a bit much at first. Just breathe through it, you’ll get used to it.”

You exhale, giggling nervously and shaking your head. “Okay, okay, I’m definitely not used to it. But… this actually feels kinda nice.” 

You’re growing more confident by the second, taking another drag. Jon watches you intently, a gentle smile on his face.

“That’s it, you’re doin’ great, ma. You deserve to feel nice, just let go of all that stress, you know?” he soothes you, his voice dropping lower than usual. 

As the night goes on, you both start to relax, the conversation flowing more freely. The effects of the joint take hold, and the atmosphere shifts in a way that has allowed the two of you to open up in a way you hadn’t before. You lean back against the couch, your eyes a little heavier but more relaxed. 

“You know, I never realized how much I needed this… to chill. I feel like I’m always runnin’ around, doin’ everything for everyone, and never doin’ anything for myself.”

Jon nods, a softer tone to his voice as he responds to you, looking at you intently. “I get it. You’re always taking care of other people, but you forget about you. You deserve to slow down. You gotta take care of yourself, too. Not everything’s on you.”

You turn to look at him, the weight of his words hitting you deep within your chest. “I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything. It’s like if I stop, everything’s gonna fall apart.”

He softens, his expression growing more serious. “You don’t have to be everything to everyone, you’re enough just as you are. But I get it, you don’t want to disappoint people.”

A moment of quiet rushes in between them as the room feels more intimate, the casual chatter fading into something more profound. The connection between you feels intense, a shared vulnerability settling in. 

You look down, almost embarrassed, as you speak softly. “Maybe I don’t know how to stop being so… perfect. Like, I always have to keep everything together. I don’t know how to let someone help me.”

Jon reaches over and tilts your chin to face him, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to always be perfect, Y/N. With me, you can just be you, no pressure.”

The mood shifts. Your eyes lock, and there’s an undeniable charge between you, something unspoken but deeply felt. The air is thick with tension as you unconsciously move closer together. Before you can even process it, Jon leans in and kisses you, slow and unexpected. It’s not rushed, but full of emotion, a silent acknowledgement of everything you’ve both been feeling. The kiss deepens naturally, your mutual desire growing, and in that moment, the world outside fades. Reality hits you after a moment and you pull back slightly, eyes wide in shock as your breath catches in your throat. 

“Wha–?”

He pulls back quickly, his own eyes growing wide, clearly panicked. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to– I just– I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have–”

He stands up, pacing slightly, his hand running through his hair. After a beat you stand as well, still in shock as you move towards him and gently place your hand on his arm. 

“Jon…” 

He turns to you, his eyes pinged in fear and nervousness as he looks at you. You step closer, looking at him with a soft but intense gaze. Before he can utter another word, you reach up, gently pulling him back down to you, kissing him again– this time with more certainty, as if you had wanted it too. You pull away slightly, breathing a little heavier as his eyes search yours, his expression mixed with relief and surprise– then, a smile starts to form on his face. 

Jon leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as that signature smirk of his plays on his lips. “Damn, Y/N… You got me over here thinking I messed up, and then you go and kiss me like that?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something deeper laced within it—something raw, something real.

You exhale a soft laugh, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. “Maybe I just wanted to shut you up,” you tease, running a hand through his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Jon’s grin widens, his hands still resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles against your skin. “Oh, word? That’s how you feel?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, Y/N. I think you’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You raise a brow, playing along. “And if I have?”

His gaze darkens, his fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “Then I’d say we got a whole lot of catching up to do.”

Before you can respond, he reaches over to grab the joint resting in the ashtray nearby, taking a slow drag before bringing it to your lips. “Here,” he murmurs, voice dripping with something dangerously smooth. “Relax a little. We got all night.”

You hold his gaze as you take a hit, the smoke curling between you as he watches you, his eyes flicking down to your lips before dragging back up. The tension between you thickens, wrapping around you both like a slow burn.

Jon leans back slightly, exhaling, his lips curving into a lazy smile. “You always look this good when you’re high, or is it just ‘cause you’re sittin’ here with me?”

You smirk, handing the joint back to him, your fingers deliberately brushing against his. “I don’t know, Uce… Maybe it’s just you.”

His laughter is deep, rich, sending a shiver down your spine. “See, now you just gassin’ me up,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he studies you. “But I ain’t mad at it.”

You shake your head, biting your lip as you watch him. “You like the attention, huh?”

Jon leans in again, this time close enough that his nose nearly brushes yours, his voice nothing but a husky whisper. “I like it when it’s from you.”

Your heart stutters, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of music in the background and the sound of your own breathing. The world outside doesn’t matter—right now, it’s just you and him, the air thick with smoke and something even more intoxicating.

“Say the word, Y/N,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing up your arm, slow, deliberate. “Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”

You swallow hard, meeting his gaze, your pulse pounding in your ears. Then, with a small smirk, you whisper, “What took you so long to figure that out?”

Jon grins, and before you can say another word, his lips are back on yours, the kiss deeper, more urgent, as if he’s making up for lost time. He groans softly against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you flush against him. The warmth of his body, the lingering haze of smoke in the air, and the way his fingers tease at the small of your back all send a slow-burning heat through you.

“You tryna drive me crazy, huh?” he mumbles between kisses, his voice husky, dripping with amusement and something deeper.

You smirk, tilting your head slightly to the side as you let your fingers trail up his chest. “I think I already have.”

Jon exhales a slow laugh, shaking his head before taking another hit of the joint, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Oh, you definitely have,” he murmurs, exhaling the smoke lazily before slipping a hand up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin back slightly. “But I ain’t mad at it, baby.”

Your breath catches as his thumb traces along your bottom lip, his touch featherlight but enough to send a shiver straight down your spine. You hold his gaze, letting your lips part slightly, teasing him just enough before you take the joint from his fingers and bring it to your lips. His eyes darken as he watches you, his expression shifting into something unreadable but entirely consuming.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” you murmur after a slow exhale, the smoke curling between you both, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want me.”

Jon chuckles, shaking his head as he licks his lips. “Oh, I been wantin’ yo’ fine ass,” he admits, his voice dropping lower, thick with something almost possessive. “Just been waitin’ for you to catch up.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, at the weight behind them, at the way his fingers are still tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the pull between you both magnetic, undeniable.

“And what happens now that I have?” you ask, arching a brow, challenging him, teasing him.

Jon grins, slow and knowing, his hands sliding down to your hips before he pulls you onto his lap, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now? Now I finally get to show you how bad.”

His words send a spark of electricity through you, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly just to hear the way his breath hitches, the way his grip on you tightens.

“Damn,” he chuckles, his nose brushing against your cheek as he tilts your head, lips ghosting over yours but not quite touching. “You really been holdin’ out on me, huh?”

You smirk, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “Maybe I just wanted you to work for it.”

Jon lets out a deep, satisfied hum, his lips finally capturing yours again, this time with even more urgency, more fire. His hands roam your body, fingertips grazing exposed skin, setting every nerve ablaze.

“Mm,” he murmurs between kisses, pulling back just enough to let his forehead rest against yours. “I don’t mind puttin’ in the work, baby. Not if it means I get to keep you right here.”

Jon’s grip tightens on your hips as he tilts his head back slightly, looking up at you with a mix of amusement and hunger. His fingers trace slow, teasing patterns along your bare skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The warmth of his hands, the faint burn of the smoke in your lungs, and the deep pull of his gaze make your head spin in the best way possible.

“You really got me like this, huh?” he murmurs, his voice husky, rough around the edges. He smirks, exhaling a slow breath as his fingers press just a little harder into your waist. “Sittin’ on my lap, lookin’ at me like you already know what you doin’ to me.”

You bite your lip, dragging your nails gently down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “Maybe I do,” you tease, tilting your head slightly, watching his expression shift. “And maybe I like it.”

He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head as his hands slide up your thighs, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Oh, I know you do,” he says, his lips ghosting over your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. “You playin’ it all sweet, but you been wantin’ this. I can feel it.”

Your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded. Maybe he is. The heat between you is thick, the air electric with the weight of everything left unsaid. But right now? You don’t need words.

He leans in, his lips just barely brushing against yours, teasing you, making you chase the kiss. “Damn, baby,” he murmurs, smirking as he pulls back just a little, enough to make you whine softly. “You really gonna make me work for it?”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully as you drag your fingers up the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your lips barely touching his. “I thought you liked putting in the work?”

Jon groans, shaking his head with a laugh before finally closing the distance, kissing you with a deep, slow intensity that sends heat pooling in your stomach. His hands explore, memorizing every curve, every dip of your body like he’s wanted to do this for far too long.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, “You taste too damn good, Y/N.”

Your heart pounds as you smirk, brushing your nose against his. “Must be all that smoke.”

He grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles at your waist. “Nah… it’s just you, baby.”

The way he says it, low and smooth, makes something flutter deep in your chest. You were just playing before, flirting for the fun of it, but now? Now, you can feel it. This is more than just a moment.

Jon studies you for a second, his gaze softer now, a little more serious. “What you want, Y/N?” His voice is still deep, still teasing, but there’s something genuine underneath it. Like he’s really asking.

You hold his gaze, your fingers still tangled in his curls as you whisper, “You.”

He grins, slow and satisfied, like he just won a game he was always meant to win. “Then come here, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you closer. “Let me give you what you been waiting for.”

Jon’s lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate hunger, like he’s savoring every second. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady on his lap as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your head spin. 

His hands wander, sliding up your back, tracing along the curve of your spine. His touch is firm, possessive, but there’s a tenderness beneath it too—like he’s memorizing you, committing this moment to memory. When he pulls back, just slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath is heavy, his eyes dark with something deeper than just desire.

His lips find yours again, this time slower, deeper, his fingers gripping you tighter like he’s afraid to let go. And you melt into him, letting yourself get lost in the moment, letting yourself feel everything.

He leans back slightly, his dark eyes drinking you in, his expression smug but soft at the same time. “So you admit it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your hip. “You been wantin’ me too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips. “Maybe,” you tease, dragging your fingers down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tense beneath your touch. “What? You need me to spell it out for you?”

Jon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah, baby. I just like hearin’ you say it.” His grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you even closer, making you feel just how much he’s enjoying this moment. “Say it again.”

Your breath hitches as his lips brush against your jaw, his voice like honey and smoke, smooth and intoxicating. “Say what?” you whisper, tilting your head slightly to give him more access, your pulse racing.

His grin grows against your skin as he places a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your neck, his tongue just barely teasing you. “That you want me.”

You let out a soft laugh, biting your lip as you slide your hands up to his shoulders, gripping them just enough to make him hum in satisfaction. “You’re really enjoying this, huh?”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression smug. “Oh, hell yeah.” He licks his lips, his gaze dark and hungry. “But I’d enjoy it even more if you quit playin’ and told me what I already know.”

You take a deep breath, your body fully pressed against his, the heat between you undeniable. “Fine,” you murmur, dragging your fingers up the back of his neck, playing with the curls at the base of his skull. “I want you, Jon.”

The second the words leave your lips, his grip tightens, his hands sliding down to your thighs before flipping you onto the couch, pinning you beneath him. You let out a surprised gasp, but it quickly turns into a soft moan as his lips crash against yours again, this time more urgent, more possessive.

“You have no idea how long I been waitin’ to hear that,” he murmurs between kisses, his lips trailing from your mouth down to your neck, his hands roaming every inch of you.

Your head tilts back against the cushions as you breathe out, your heart pounding. “Then why the hell did you wait so long?”

Jon lets out a low laugh, his breath hot against your skin. “’Cause you play too damn much,” he teases, nipping at your collarbone. “Had to let you catch up.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his hair just enough to make him groan. “And now?”

Jon lifts his head, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. He smirks, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before leaning in so close you can feel every word as he whispers, “Now, I ain’t holdin’ back no more.”

Jon’s kiss is slow, deep, and consuming, like he’s savoring every second of finally having you in his arms. His body presses against yours, his warmth sinking into you, making it impossible to focus on anything but the way he feels—solid, strong, right. His hands explore, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before gripping you like he’s afraid you might slip away.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with something deeper than just desire. Possession. Affection. Something real. His thumb strokes your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the heat burning between you two.

“You sure you ready for this, baby?” he murmurs, his voice husky, his breath fanning against your lips.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, but there’s no more hesitation. The tension, the teasing– it was always leading to this. To him.

You nod, looking into his eyes with a level of certainty that surprises even you. “I’m sure,” you say, your voice soft but filled with passion. “I want this. I want you. Now.”

He groans against your lips, his hands sliding down to the waistband of your pants, undoing them with a practiced ease. Every touch sends a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making it harder to think, harder to breathe. You tug at his sweats in return, eager to get him closer, to feel all of him, and when the last barrier is gone, the world outside completely fades away. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel him, feel all of him, as he enters you. Moans fall from your lips as your walls adjust to his length, entirely consuming you as he slides in deeper. The sensation is intense, overwhelming, and it leaves you breathless as you both adjust to the fit.

You move together, the rhythm natural, fluid, as though you’ve been doing this forever. His groans match your own, every snap of his hips intensifying the connection between you. The way he touches you, the way he kisses you, it’s all so much more than physical. It’s about something deeper, something you both have been unknowingly craving for so long. There’s tenderness in every touch, urgency in every kiss, and beneath it all, there’s that deep, undeniable love that’s starting to take shape.

“God, Y/N,” Jon groans against your skin, his voice strained, as if it’s taking everything in him to keep control. "You feel so fucking good. So perfect.” He presses you closer, if that’s even possible, and you can feel him, feel every inch of his body hard against yours, as if he can’t get close enough. Each touch, each kiss, feels like an explosion of raw, unfiltered emotion, and as you move together, there’s an undeniable sense of belonging that wraps around you both like a cloak. His hands are everywhere, tracing the lines of your body, pulling you closer to him with every breath, every movement.

Your lips are caught in a feverish kiss, hungry yet tender, each one of his caresses sending waves of electricity through your body. His lips leave your mouth only to graze your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, making you tremble beneath his touch. There’s something about the way he kisses you, something intimate and all-consuming, that makes you feel like he’s not just touching your skin—he’s touching your soul.

"You feel so damn good," Jon murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. His hands slide down your back, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he's completely consumed by this moment, this connection. His lips find the soft curve of your neck again, pressing kisses there that make you tremble, and you can’t help but moan softly.

“Don’t stop,” you whimper, your voice shaky, your body vibrating with need. Every inch of you is on fire, every nerve alive with the sensations he's stirring within you. You want him, need him, and there's no turning back now.

He looks at you then, his eyes dark and filled with raw emotion. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N,” he breathes, his lips hovering near yours. “You’re mine. I’m all in. Always have been.”

Your heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his words, at the vulnerability he’s showing you. The intensity of what’s between you both only deepens, and you can feel the truth of it, settling between you like a promise.

"I’m all in too, Jon," you breathe, your voice steady now, filled with the certainty of everything you've been feeling. "Always have been."

His lips meet yours once again, and this kiss is different. It's softer, more intimate, filled with everything you’ve both been hiding—desire, love, longing. Every part of you is connected to him now, body and soul. You move together, slow and steady, savoring every touch, every kiss, like it’s the most precious thing in the world.

You can feel him, feel the depth of his affection, his love for you, and you respond with the same intensity, giving everything you have to him. The world outside doesn’t matter anymore. It’s just the two of you, here, in this moment, and nothing could ever compare to the way he makes you feel.

“Fuck, Jon…” you moan, your head falling back. “I’m–”

“I know, baby,” he groans in the crook of your neck, “I know.”

And as you move together, your bodies becoming one, there’s a sense of completeness, a feeling that you’ve found exactly where you belong. And when you finally reach the peak of that all-consuming desire, it’s more than just physical pleasure. It’s an emotional release, a release of everything you’ve been holding back, everything you’ve been too scared to say.

so erm... idk what my tumblr did but literally all the requests i had in my inbox completely deleted themselves??? like hello???

with that being said if you sent in a request previously or if you're wanting to send one my requests are still open! check out my welcome page to see who i write for! working on a few different one shots as we speak 🤭

Kenny and the reader are married and have a romantic night together consisting of dinner , and a romantic bath leading into love making. Thanks in advance!

You Taste Better // Kenny Omega x Reader

Author’s Note -> Happy Valentine’s Day! I’ve been so busy recently between moving, visiting family, and then some things that have come up but I’m hoping I get a little more consistent with writing pretty soon. I’m not usually one to write about fluffy stuff like this, but since the day calls for it I guess I’ll do it.. just this once 😉 as always, happy reading!

Pairings -> Kenny Omega x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Fluff galore, Cursing, Hickies, Fingering, Handjob, Unprotected P in V, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.3k

Valentine’s Day: a day for extravagant gestures, lavish gifts, and world-class dinners. But this year, your first Valentine’s Day married to Kenny, things would look differently. He insisted– begged even, that the two of you stay home and he’d handle everything.

“I got this,” he’d said confidently this morning, kissing your forehead and disappearing into the kitchen.

But now, as you stood in the doorway, arms crossed in amusement, you watched your husband fumble his way through cooking dinner for the two of you. Adorned in a simple black tee and sweatpants, Kenny was the epitome of domestic charm– if not a little bit chaotic. Steak sizzles in a pan while a pot of mashed potatoes sits abandoned on the counter, a wooden spoon resting near the edge of the countertop.

“You’re supposed to stir those, babe,” you pointed out, holding back laughter.

Kenny turned, a sheepish grin on his face. “I was… getting to it.”

You shake your head, walking over to him and taking the utensil from him, giving the potatoes a much needed stir. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, planting a soft kiss to your hair and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re interfering with my master plan,” he murmurs, lips brushing the skin under your ear.

“You looked like you needed some help, babe.”

“I’ll admit to needing you, but that’s nothing new.” His hands slide down your waist, pulling you closer to him. You breathe out a sigh, now having your own troubles focusing on the potatoes. He chuckles at you, kissing your temple before pulling away to finish with the steaks. 

Dinner eventually made its way to the table– not perfect by any means but you wouldn’t have it any other way. You and Kenny sit across from each other, candlelight flickering between you, casting a warm glow on his face. He pours you a glass of wine, making a toast to another year together.

“To my beautiful wife,” he says, his voice soft now. “The one person makes every win, every loss, and everything in between worth it.”

Your heart melts at his words and you know for a fact that right now, there is no place you’d rather be than here. No five-star restaurant, no elaborate trip, nothing could compare to the serenity of this moment. As chaotic as it was trying to get dinner together, you wouldn’t trade this for the world.

You continue with dinner, making conversation and occasionally flirting and cracking jokes back and forth as you finish your meal. The two of you finish eating and Kenny stands first, gathering your plates and placing them in the kitchen before coming back to the table and extending his hand to yours– taking it and leading you upstairs. The second you step foot into the bathroom, your breath hitches in your throat. The tub was already filled with warm water and full of bubbles, the air thick with the soothing scent of vanilla and sandalwood. Rose petals decorated the water and tile floor, with dozens of candles flickering around the room– the only source of light.

You turn to him. “When did you do all this?”

Kenny smirks. “I have my ways.”

With gentle hands he undresses you, his fingers trailing slowly down your arms before guiding you into the water. Warmth envelopes you, relaxing your muscles as you watch Kenny undress himself. He slips in behind you, pulling you into his chest. His arms snake around your waist as he presses a soft kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he murmurs.

You lean back against him, sighing contentedly. “Best one yet, baby.”

The two of you relax in each other’s embrace, soaking in the moment– one that you don’t get often with how often he’s on the road. You feel the water ripple beside you as he brings his arms out of the water, cupping water in his hands as he rinses your hair. He reaches for your shampoo– the one you bought specifically because he loves the scent, and gathers some in his hands before lathering it and bringing his hands to your hair. He massages your scalp, his hands warm and deliberate, working the soap through your roots and ends before rinsing it out. He follows with body wash, his body wash, and rubs the skin along your shoulders and chest– kneading the tension out of your muscles. The soft glide of his fingers sends shivers along your spine and soon his lips follow, brushing the sensitive skin of your ear once more.

“Kenny…” Your voice barely whispers.

He hums, his hands drifting lower. “I told you– I got this.”

The water ripples as he turns you to face him, rinsing the soap from your body. He watches the water cascade from your skin, his eyes dark with something deeper than just affection, then brings his hand to your cheek. His thumb brushes your lips before capturing them in a kiss– slow, passionate, and filled with all the love in the world.

You melt in his arms, your fingers threading through his damp hair as his hands explore your body under the water. His touch is gentle yet firm, teasing yet possessive. The steam wraps around you both, the heat between you far exceeding that of the water.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his lips swollen and red from the kissing, his breathing heavy. “You are so damn beautiful.”

Your heart races as he trails his kisses lower, his mouth finding the most sensitive spots along your neck, your collarbone, and lower still. His fingers ghost over your thigh, spreading warmth in their wake. 

“I think we need to take this somewhere more… comfortable,” he whispers, his voice husky.

You nod, breathless, as he stood, water dripping from his toned body. He holds out his hand, helping you out of the tub before wrapping a plush towel around you. But the moment your feet touch the floor, he lifts you into his arms, carrying you into the bedroom. You take in the sights around you– rose petals scattering across the bedroom floor and your shared bed, a bottle of Dom Pérignon resting on ice, and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

A giggle escapes you. “So, dinner and a bath weren’t enough?”

Kenny smirks, sitting you on the bed gently. “Oh love,” he murmurs, he presses a kiss to your cheek, “the night’s just getting started. Here,” He hands you a flute of champagne. “To us.”

You both sip your glasses as he reaches for a strawberry, swirling it in the air playfully before bringing it to your lips.

“You know, they say strawberries are an aphrodisiac.”

You smirk, staring into his eyes as you take a slow bite, your fingers brushing his. “Mmm… then I guess you’re trying to get me in trouble tonight.”

He laughs, taking another sip of his champagne. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m just celebrating.”

You raise your glass to his, your eyes darkening with something deeper. “To celebrating, then. And to you– my favorite indulgence.”

You clink glasses, sipping slowly, your eyes locked on one another over the rim. You reach for a strawberry, holding it between your fingers before pressing it gently against his lips.

“Your turn.”

He takes a bite, licking a stray bit of chocolate from his lip. “Delicious. But I think you taste even better.”

He groans softly, setting his glass aside before leaning in, his fingers tilting your chin up. Your lips meet, warm and unhurried, tasting of champagne and chocolate. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer and guiding you towards the center of the bed. Your fingers intertwine themselves in his hair, tugging gently at the strands along the nape of his neck, drawing a soft groan from his lips. The towels that had clung to your bodies were now long gone, laying on the floor in a heap as you were now chest to chest– skin to skin. The warmth radiated between you, heartbeats in sync, moving together as one. 

His fingers trail down your body faintly, ghosting along your freshly bathed skin directly where you needed him most. They danced along the flesh of your thighs, moving ever so delicately towards your aching heat as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, nipping and gently sucking fresh marks along your jaw. You whine in a mixture of pleasure and frustration, your body calling to him for more. 

“Be patient, baby,” he breathes into your skin, “I’m in no rush tonight.”

Kenny’s lips find yours once more and you sigh in content, his fingers growing closer and closer to your glistening core. You shiver when his digits finally reach you, your eyes fluttering closed as he drags his fingers through your wetness, finding your clit and rubbing soft circles into the swollen bud. You hiss, your head falling onto the mattress as you finally feel relief from this burning tension. Your hips unconsciously follow his movements, your body desperate for more– dying for more.

You weren’t the only one silently begging for release, however, as his hardened cock pressed into your thigh– and for a moment you swore you could practically feel him throbbing against you. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, pumping his cock with your hand, earning a guttural moan from him. His head falls in the crook of your neck, soft moans and groans being breathed into your ear as you stroked him. It was then that his fingers teased your entrance, entering you one at a time, and thrusting into you with slow and deliberate movements.

His voice is husky and full of lust as he whispers in your ear, “Fuck, Y/N… still so fuckin’ tight for me…”

“Means you gotta fuck me more, baby,” you breathe out, the curling of his fingers inside you having you nearly breathless.

He growls, lifting his head and resting his forehead on yours. His eyes are trained on you, watching your face contort with the slow thrust of his fingers as he himself tries to keep his composure from your touch on his cock. He pulls himself away from your hand, removing his fingers from inside you much to your protest, and instead teases your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“Later. Right now,” his lips brush against yours, mere centimeters away from pressing them together again, “I wanna make love to you, baby.”

You gasp as his length slowly enters you, stretching you around him– your walls molding to the size of him. You’ve had sex with Kenny countless times, but he never fails to take your breath away every time he pushes himself inside you. His eyes stare into yours as you bite your lip, and you’re convinced you’ve drawn blood, but all of your thoughts melt away as Kenny stares at you lovingly while he buries himself deeper inside you. He stops as he’s bottomed out inside you, a breathy moan falling from his lips as he locks your lips again, devoting every ounce of love and passion into the kiss. He doesn’t stop kissing you as he begins to rock his hips against yours, his cock slowly thrusting inside you.

Whimpers and moans escape you with every movement of his hips, your body overcome with pleasure as he delivers on his promise to make love to you. He pulls away from your lips, breathing heavier as he brings your legs to his hips, letting them interlock around his waist as his slow thrusts continue. You moan his name like a mantra, the sounds of your lovemaking echoing your shared bedroom. 

“O–oh, Kenny…”

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so beautiful.” He peppers kisses along your cheeks, and with each new location they find he utters compliments, affirmations, and most of all– proclamations of his love for you. He feels your pussy flutter around him with each sentence, your body telling him you believe each word that falls from his lips, but most importantly– that you’re close to your release. His fingers find your clit once more, resuming his soft circling motions which makes you cry out for him even more. 

“K–Kenny, baby, I–”

“Eyes on me, baby…” he mutters, “Wanna watch you cum for me. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes open to his already looking into yours, and you feel it. The love, the passion, the desire, all combined and manifested into one single gaze. It’s this gaze that sends you over the edge, your orgasm rippling through you– powerful and warm, just like him. His follows suit, his eyes never leaving yours as he releases himself inside you.

The two of you ride out your respective orgasms together, heartbeats still as one, the rise and fall of your chests in unison. Nothing else matters in this moment, the entire world has completely faded from existence– it’s just you and Kenny. The two of you. Together as one.

He pulls out of you slowly and you whine at the loss, feeling incomplete without him consuming every ounce of you, and he chuckles– pulling you into his chest. 

“So, how’d I do, baby?” he mutters, placing a kiss below your ear.

“Not too bad, so long as you don’t forget about those candles like you did the potatoes.” You giggle, gesturing to the candles in the bathroom, still burning bright.

Author’s Note -> Been sitting on this idea for a while but I moved states so I had to put it on pause– figured I’d use it as a little bit of a palate cleanser before jumping into more requests! And who better than my fav 🥰 first AEW one shot too! Lmk what you think and, as always, happy reading! 🙂‍↕️

Pairings -> Will Ospreay x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Slight angst, Blood play, Nipple Play, Hickies, Oral Sex (M!Receiving, F!Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 3.6k

‼️Trigger Warning: Blood‼️

You were snapped out of your trance by Will slamming open the locker room door, the sharp sound echoing through the halls of the backstage area. His face is a mess of dried blood and sweat, a nasty cut on his temple leaking fresh crimson. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths and his hair is damp with a mixture of sweat and blood, clinging to his forehead in wild curls. You’ve been waiting in his locker room to tend to him, first aid kit in hand, but the intensity radiating from the man freezes you where you stand.

He brushes past you, throwing a blood-stained towel onto the bench with a frustrated sigh. You can’t help but watch as he rakes his fingers through his hair, his movements sharp. Every muscle in his body is taut, his frustration from his match practically radiating off of him. You attempt to speak but before you can do that he spins around, his piercing eyes locking onto you.

“You just going to stand there?” he snaps, his voice low and full of grit.

You swallow hard, clutching the first aid kit tightly. The air feels thick, his anger palpable, yet despite the warning in his tone you’re drawn to him. Maybe even because of it.

“I came to check on you,” you manage to say, your voice softer than intended. His eyes narrow, but there’s a flicker of something else beneath his anger– curiosity, or maybe, challenge.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he growls, turning away from you to grab the towel again. He roughly wipes at his face, but all it does is smear the blood further, leaving streaks of red down his cheeks and neck.

“Doesn’t look like it,” you reply, surprising yourself with the firmness in your tone. You set down the first-aid kit and cross the room to him, stopping just out of arm's reach. He stiffens, but doesn’t move away.

Up close, you notice every detail: the bruises forming along his knuckles, the tension in his jaw as he grits his teeth, the way his chest heaves with every breath. The blood on his face only sharpens his already striking features, and the raw energy radiating from him sends a shiver down your spine. 

“You’re gonna need stitches, Will,” you say, pointing to the gash on his temple.

“I said I’m fine,” he snaps again, though his voice lacks the same venom as before. He turns to face you fully, his green eyes locking onto yours. “Why are you still here?”

You hesitate, searching for the right words, but all you can think about is how disheveled and angry and utterly captivating he looks. Against all rhyme and reason, the sight of him like this– raw, unguarded– sparks something within you.

“Maybe because you look like you could use someone who isn’t scared to tell you the truth,” you respond, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.

He blinks hard, caught off guard for a moment, before a smirk tugs at his lips– a sharp, dangerous thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is that so?” he challenges.

You nod, stepping closer. “Yeah.. and the truth is, you’re an absolute fuckin’ mess, but…” Your eyes linger on the blood streaked across his face, your pulse racing as you meet his gaze once more. “It suits you.”

For a moment his anger dissipates, replaced by something darker– something more calculated. His eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The air between you feels electric, the tension sharp enough to cut through.

“Careful,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with warning. “You might not like where that talk gets you.”

You swallow hard but hold your ground. “Maybe I do,” you say, the words out before you can stop yourself.

His smirk deepens and, for a moment, the frustration and exhaustion in his posture seems to melt away, replaced by pure intrigue. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel his heat radiating off of him, and tilts his head slightly. The cut on his forehead is still bleeding, but he doesn’t seem to notice– or care.

“Is that so?” he retorts, his voice a low rumble. His hand twitches at his side, almost like he’s debating whether or not to close the distance.

You don’t flinch, your eyes never leaving his. “It is.”

Neither of you move. The tension is thick, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. Then, as if to test you, he leans in, his voice dropping lower.

“You’re playing with fire, love,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. 

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Maybe I like the burn.” 

For the first time since he stormed in, his gaze softens, just slightly, and the corners of his mouth twitch in what might almost be a real smile. The anger in his eyes has faded, replaced by something more complex– something that feels like a reward and a challenge all at once.

“You’re something else,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly as he finally takes a step back and sits on the bench. But the way his eyes linger tells you he’s far from dismissing you.

As he grabs the towel again and starts wiping at his face, you silently grab the first-aid kit from the counter. He doesn’t stop you this time as you step forward, your fingers brushing against his hand as you take the towel away.

“Let me,” you whisper softly, and for once, he doesn’t argue.

He glances up, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you thought you saw something soften, but then his jaw tightened and he leaned back, gesturing to his face. “Do what you’ve gotta do.”

You stepped closer, tilting his chin slightly to get a better look at the wound. The proximity makes your breath hitch– he was even more striking this close, his intensity nearly overwhelming.

“This might sting,” you warn, dabbing a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic on the cut.

He hissed through his teeth, his hand twitching before gripping the edge of the bench. “Bloody hell, Y/N, you trying to kill me?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ve been through worse.”

His gaze flicked to you, a hint of amusement breaking through. “You’ve been watching my matches, then?”

You falter for a moment, the teasing in his voice catching you off guard. “It’s part of the job,” you reply, focusing on cleaning the wound to avoid his eyes.

“Right,” he drawled, his tone dripping with skepticism. “And I’m guessing you just happened to be watching tonight?”

Your cheeks heat up, but you keep your composure. “Like I said, it’s my job.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “You’re not very good at hiding it, you know.”

“Hiding what?” you asked, feigning ignorance as you reached for the bandages.

“The way you’re looking at me,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “Like you don’t know whether to patch me up or pin me down.”

Your hand freezes mid-air, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You glanced over at him, meeting his gaze, and found his smirk snugly in place. The anger he’d walked in with had been replaced by something smug, something dangerous. 

“Careful, Will,” you tease, trying to keep your voice steady as you press gauze on his cut. “You’re not as charming as you think.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you. “Is that right? Because judging by the color of your cheeks, I’d say I’m doing alright.”

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to back down. “You should save that energy for the ring,” you shoot back, your voice tinged with amusement.

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face. “Why waste it on a crowd when I’ve got you right here?” 

The air between you cracked with tension, the lines of professionalism blurring with every passing second. You step back slightly, needing space to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you off the hook so easily. 

“You’re good at this,” he says, nodding towards your handiwork. “But I can’t tell if you’re more interested in fixing me up or staring me down.”

“Maybe both,” you say before you can stop yourself, the words slipping out in a moment of boldness.

His eyes darkened, the teasing smile on his lips turning into something more serious. “You’ve got a dangerous mouth on you, don’t you, love?”

“Only when it’s deserved,” you reply, your voice soft but steady.

He stood to his feet, towering over you, his presence making the room feel smaller. “And do I deserve it?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken intent. You didn’t answer– not with words, anyway. Instead, you let the tension carry you forward, your hand brushing against his chest as you tilt your head up.

His lips were on yours before you could think twice, the kiss fierce and demanding. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you disappears. Your professionalism, your carefully crafted boundaries– all of it melted away in the heat of the moment.

When you finally break apart, your breath comes in short gasps, and his forehead rests against yours.

“Still think I’m not as charming as I think?” he murmured, his voice low.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw– a small amount of his blood collecting on your index finger. You gaze into his eyes as you bring your finger to your lips, the metallic taste hitting your tongue and drawing a low moan from your throat. “You’re getting there.”

He bites his lip at you, his eyes darkening as he watches you suck on your fingers. “Fucking hell, you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

His lips are back on yours in an instant, pulling you into him by your hips as he walks with you to the bench, sitting back down as you climb on top of him. You pull apart again and run your fingers through his sweat and blood clad strands, watching as the cut continues to ooze droplets of fresh crimson.

“You’re still bleeding, Will,” you whisper against his lips.

“You gonna clean me up then, love?” his eyes glimmer up at you, watching you closely as if to dare you to make a move.

And you do, bringing your lips to his temple and pressing a soft kiss to the wound, a low growl emanating from his throat. Your tongue pokes past your lips and licks a stripe along the cut, collecting the liquid on your tastebuds and pulling back, licking the excess off your lips. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re trouble,” he moans.

“What, can’t handle me?” you smirk at him, cheeks flushed and blood stained on your lips.

“Oh, I can do more than that, love.” he teases.

“Then prove it.” you murmur as you connect your lips once more, moaning into the kiss as his bruised hands ravage your body, digging into your sides as he rocks your hips against his cloth-covered bulge. He hisses at the contact, his lips falling below your ear to nip the sensitive skin, his heavy pants along your earlobe sending chills throughout your body. Your hands move from their resting place on his shoulders to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from him and lifting the material over your head before discarding it somewhere across the room. His hands trail up your spine as he takes you in, his fingers toying with the clasps of your bra before removing it and tossing it to the side. 

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ stunning, Y/N.” His eyes take in your exposed chest and torso, committing the image of you to his memory– the smooth skin of your chest and the way it rises and falls with each breath, your perfectly shaped breasts, even your hardened nipples all being permanently ingrained in his mind. He finds himself gravitated to you, his lips finding the skin along your collarbone and pressing firm kisses to the area– trailing downward to your breasts. His eyes find yours, glazed over in lust, before abruptly wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking hard on the bud. A whispered curse falls from your lips as you arch into his touch, your hips involuntarily grinding into his. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he groans– while continuing to suck and bite your skin.

Your hands tangle in his hair, lightly tugging on the strands as he gives your other nipple some much needed attention– alternating motions of licking, sucking, biting. Before long he’s attempting to flip you over onto your back, but you stop him.

“Let me take care of you, Will. Please..” you whisper against him. He pulls away from your breasts, pressing his forehead against yours.

“And how might you go about doing that?” he asks, but rather than answering his question with words you respond with actions– climbing off of his lap and falling to your knees in front of him, bringing your hands to his thighs and running your fingers slowly over the material. He gets your hint, chuckling darkly at you below him before removing his pants and boxers– his cock springing free and hitting his stomach. You lick your lips at the sight of him before you; he was very well kept, little to no hair along the base leading to a long and thick shaft with prominent veins, which trailed up to his tip– pink and glossy in his arousal. 

“Go on then, love,” he coaxes you, forcing you to look up at him through your lashes, “take care of me.” You nod, wrapping your fingers around him, leaning down to press your lips to his tip with a soft kiss and collecting his precum on your tongue before replacing it with your spit– using your hand to lubricate the rest of his cock, pumping him before wrapping your lips around him. He hisses, throwing his head back and placing a hand on your cheek and watching as your lips hollow around him. You suck on the tip, giving kitten licks to the sensitive head as you do, while he curses under his breath and his hand gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail– guiding your head further down his cock.

You make eye contact with him as your mouth goes further down his shaft, your eyes beginning to water the further down you go. He guides you, helping you bob your head on his length as you continue hollowing your cheeks on him and dragging your tongue along the veins of his cock.

“Fucking hell, baby, you’re so fuckin’ good at this…” he moans out loud, giving you the confidence to relax your jaw and take him in your throat. He grunts as the tightness of your throat squeezes his cock, his hips involuntarily bucking in your mouth. Tears slowly stream down your cheeks as you take him, gagging occasionally on his cock as he fucks your throat. You look up at him once more, eyes watery, as he watches his cock slide in and out of your throat.

“Jesus, Y/N, you’re fucking incredible, baby. Taking me so well.” he groans as you come up for air, stroking him as you move to his balls, sucking them and taking them in your mouth. Your thighs squeeze together at his words, feeling your own arousal pooling in your panties as you pleasure him. He notices, however, and brings a hand to your chin– lifting your head up to look at him.

“It’s my turn, love. Come lay down for me, yeah?” You rise to your feet, climbing back on top of him and kissing him, the taste of him still sitting on your tongue. He flips the two of you, your back laying on the bench as he positions himself between your thighs and hooking his calloused fingers in the waistband of your leggings, pulling both your leggings and panties off of you in one motion. Your pussy glitters before him, soaking wet in your need for him and dripping off your thighs. 

“Bloody hell, you’re fuckin’ soaked, love. Who did all this, hmm?” he teases.

“Will, please–”

“Uh, uh, answer me, Y/N...” he threatens gently.

“Fuck, Will… you did. Now plea–” A gasp from your throat interrupts you as Will licks a stripe along your folds, groaning as he tastes your wetness.

“So fuckin’ sweet…” he murmurs, placing wet kisses along your opening and up towards your clit, now red and swollen– begging to be touched. His lips wrap harshly around the bud, using his tongue to play with it as his fingers dipped into your folds and teased your entrance. He gently pushes two inside, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels your walls squeeze around them, thrusting deep inside you– curling his fingers enough to brush lightly against your g-spot, making your eyes squeeze shut and the fingers that were again tangled in his hair to gently pull.

“F–fuck, Will… I–”

“Yeah? Feels good, hmm?”

“Mmm, please…”

“Use your words, Y/N. Tell me what you need, baby.” he mutters against you.

“F–fuck me, p–please…” you whined, “I– I need you.”

Will doesn’t hesitate, lifting his head and pulling his fingers out of you, cleaning them with his tongue as he climbs on top of you. His hand grips the base of his cock and teases your entrance, watching your brows furrow as you whimper underneath him– begging him to do something, anything. 

“I’m gonna absolutely fucking ruin you, Y/N.” he whispers.

“Then what are you waiting for?” you whisper back.

His cock pushes inside you, his length stretching you gloriously. You gasp loudly as he goes deeper, bottoming out inside you as you adjust to his size. He pulls out enough to leave just the tip inside, slamming back into you and gradually increasing his thrusts. The bench creaks underneath you as he gets faster and faster, but it’s the last thing on your mind as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“So… fucking… tight” he grunts with each thrust, your moans matching his as he fucks you. He throws one leg over his shoulder and pounds you hard, the new angle allowing the tip of his cock to directly hit your g-spot over and over again.

You can’t control the moans and cries falling from your lips, the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the right ways making you spiral out of control. You are at his mercy, at his will, and there is nothing you can do about it.

You feel something fall onto your cheek, causing you to come back to reality for a second as you look up at him and notice the gash on his forehead is still dripping blood– less than before, but still bleeding nonetheless. He notices too, watching as his blood drips onto your face and stains your skin. He brings his head to your cheek, licking it clean and locking your lips once more, allowing you to taste him on his tongue before pulling away and pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re all mine, understand? Got my blood on your tongue, blood on your face, and now I’m gonna fill this pretty cunt full of my cum…” he grunts in your ear, his hips snapping into yours at a dangerously delicious pace, “I’m going to consume you, love. Tell me who you fucking belong to, Y/N.”

“Y–you, Will. I’m yours, I– oh fuckkk…”

“I feel you, baby… you’re close, huh?” You moan in response, your nails digging into his shoulders, making him hiss.

“I’ve got you.. go ahead, baby. Cum for me.” With one last thrust you tighten around him, your vision turning white as you cry out, nails digging deeper into his shoulders as you coat his cock in your juices. He follows you, releasing himself inside you with a groan, filling you completely. For a few moments you both lay there, his body on top of yours, soaking in the ecstasy of your respective orgasms as you collect yourselves until he reluctantly pulls out of you– the mixture of yours and his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy. The two of you are still trying to steady your breathing, feeling rocked after what just happened. After a moment, you regain the ability to speak.

“Will...” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Are you finally gonna let me clean that cut now?”

He chuckles, looking at you laid in front of him with a gleam in his eye. 

“Alright, alright, fine. Patch me up, love,” he smiles, “But if I get to fuck you like that every time, don’t be surprised if I start doing this,” he gestures to the cut on his forehead, “on purpose.”

You laugh, shaking your head at him while getting up off the bench and walking to grab the first aid kit– but not before getting a harsh smack to your ass. You gasp, turning around to face him as he puts his hands up in surrender.

Red-Handed // Roman Reigns x Reader

Request #1: “Can you write a Dom/Sub oneshot of Roman and his lover. Roman is punishing his lover by not having sex with her but he does torture by masturbating in front of her”

Request #2: “Hey this might be too smutty but can you write a oneshot of a wwe employee who has a secret crush on Roman Reigns. She has to go to Roman’s locker room, she gets so caught up in admiring Roman’s handsomeness and aura that Roman was preparing to masturbate (which she ends watching). Roman didn’t notice she was in his room.”

Author’s Note -> Hello! I hope you don’t mind but I combined your request with another one I got because they’re so similar, then added some of my own flair lol. Also… too smutty? On THIS blog? Neverrrrr 🙂‍↕lmaooooo anyways here’s your request, I hope you enjoy and as always– happy reading! (we’re gonna just ignore that it took me a week to write this bc I got too dickstracted writing this scene lol)

Pairings -> Roman Reigns x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Masturbation (Male!Fem!), Daddy Kink, Spanking, Hand Worship, Hickies, Bruises, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 2.8k

“Hey, Y/N! Can you come here for a sec?” Your mentor, Jamie Noble, beckoned you over to him. You had only been employed as an assistant producer backstage at WWE for a couple months, being primarily assigned to shadow Jamie– aka, one of the main producers of the Bloodline segments. Because of this, you spent countless hours every week either attending in-person or virtual meetings with him, Bobby Roode, Paul Heyman, and the focal point of the Bloodline storyline, Roman Reigns, as you collectively planned out segments for upcoming shows. It was during these meetings you found yourself growing an attraction to the man they called the Tribal Chief, often getting lost in your own thoughts watching him as he gave his inputs, his words leaving his mouth smooth as velvet– the natural timbre of his voice low enough to vibrate you to the very core. You knew he knew it too, a deep smirk painting across his face as either Jamie or Bobby would have to snap you out of your trance you were in. It was pathetic how captivated you could become over a man’s voice, or the furrow of his brows when he was deep in thought, or the way a singular vein would grow prominent along his neck when he spoke in a passionate monologue about the story, or how the t-shirts and sweats he wore to meetings would define his features and cling to his body just right– snap out of it, Y/N.

“Yes, Mr. Noble?” You shake the thoughts out of your brain, focusing your attention on your boss.

“Y/N, for the last time, please call me Jamie. You’re making me feel ancient,” he laughs for a moment then regains his focus. “Anyways, I need you to stop by Roman’s locker room. We had to make a couple changes to the promo tonight, he’s already greenlighted them in case some segments run over… we’re about 10 minutes behind right now so we’re gonna have to adjust.” You swallow hard, nerves hitting you like a freight train as you listen to his orders. “Don’t look so nervous, Y/N, you’ll be fine. You need to get used to being alone with him, because one day I won’t be here anymore and…”

“I know, please, don’t remind me,” you laughed nervously, “I’ll let him know.” Jamie thanks you silently before turning his attention elsewhere as you stand in place for a moment, truly weighing your options. Don’t be stupid, Y/N. All you have to do is just let him know we’re short on time and that’s it. Nothing more. Relax. You shake your head to remove yourself from your own thoughts and let out a shaky breath before turning around and walking slowly down the hallway backstage. Your legs felt heavy as you willed yourself down the hall, occasionally stopping to say ‘hi’ to someone you recognized before reaching the door of Roman’s locker room. Nervously, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as your knuckles rapped on the wooden door in front of you– trying hard to not knock loudly. Surprisingly, no one answered. Maybe I wasn’t loud enough? You tried again, slightly louder this time as you knocked on the door. Again, nothing. Is he even in there? Maybe the third time’s the charm. Once more, you knocked on the door in front of you and were met with silence. That’s odd. But maybe he’s got headphones in and just can’t hear me. Do I–? Do I crack the door open to see? No, that’s too much. What if he– no, we don’t have much time, Y/N. Just open the fuckin’ door. Hesitantly, your fingers wrap around the cool metal of the doorknob and twist the handle– cracking the door open and using the small space to peek inside. Oh. My. God.

Roman was definitely inside, but you were not at all prepared for what you were currently seeing. The big mirror along the wall left nothing to the imagination as you watched him– his eyes shut and head thrown back as beads of sweat and water dripped down his torso, your eyes following as they trailed lower, watching as his right hand skillfully stroked his cock. Breathy groans fell from his lips as he pleasured himself, and you found yourself unable to look away. You shamelessly had imagined him like this, daydreamed about how beautiful he’d look consumed in his own pleasure, and found your own arousal making itself known as you watched. Unconsciously, your hand gravitated to and began rubbing your core as you bit the inside of your lip– making sure you wouldn’t be heard. You felt dirty watching him perform this very private act, but no matter how badly your mind tried to tell you this was wrong your eyes were trained on the man in front of you, stuck in place and unable to look away.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” Shit. You quickly snapped out of your trance and moved behind the wall, embarrassment flooding over you as you pressed your lips together– holding your breath. 

“I already saw you, Y/N,” Roman chuckled as you squeezed your eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Come in.” Your breath hitched in your throat, somehow more nerves rising to the surface. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, love. Come sit. I promise you, I’m not upset.” His tone softened and you released the breath you were holding, feeling unsure of your own foundation as you cracked the door open and snuck inside, shutting it behind you. You couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes so you settled for your shoes, focusing your complete attention on them as you walked into his dressing room and sat in a chair across from him.

“I– I just was coming to tell you that we have to s–switch to the other p–promo tonight… we’re behind schedule by about 10 minutes so…”

“That’s fine, now will you look at me?” You didn’t move, your gaze still trained to your shoes as a flush of red came across your cheeks, and tears brimmed your eyes.

“Y/N, look at me.” His tone, sharper this time– more demanding, forced your eyes to snap up to his. His gaze softened slightly as he saw yours, the look of guilt evident across your face.

“I– I’m so sorry, I–” your eyes widened as you unintentionally shifted your focus down his body– he’s still pleasuring himself. “Oh my god, um, I– I’ll just come back later,” You covered your eyes with your hand, gasping when you felt a larger, rougher hand wrap around your wrist and bring your hand back down to your side. Roman’s hand. 

“Don’t act so shy now, princess, clearly you didn’t have a problem watching me through the mirror a few minutes ago, hmm?” You tried hard, to no avail, to look anywhere but at the hand that was wrapped around his cock.

“I–,”

“You what? You’re sorry?” You nodded slowly, heat rising to your cheeks. “I don’t believe you, Y/N.” 

A wave of confusion crosses your face as you lock eyes with him, trying to ignore the way they were glazed over or how his brows furrowed trying to stifle his sounds of pleasure. He chuckled lowly at you, his eyes hooded and trained on you.

“I don’t believe you one bit, princess. I see the way you look at me. In meetings, Zoom calls, here backstage… I bet you’ve fantasized all about this, haven’t you?” You tried to speak but were immediately cut off. “Oh, and how could I forget? I saw you too.” You gasped softly, making him chuckle again. “Yeah, baby girl, don’t act so innocent. I saw that hand,” he motioned to the hand he had just placed at your side, “rubbing that pretty pussy of yours while you watched me… dirty, dirty girl. You could’ve gotten caught, you know…” Your body stiffened as you listened.

“So, you wanna try telling me you’re sorry, again?” Your lips pressed together as you looked at your lap, embarrassment growing by the second as he was calling you out like this. “That’s what I thought,” he said, a smirk present in his tone.

“Please.. I– I can’t lose this job. A–and..”

“Oh, sweetheart, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You look back up at him, a mixture of relief and shock in your eyes. “But, I don’t think you should get off that easily either…” Your chest sank, worry creeping back in at his words as he leaned back against the couch– still stroking himself. You watched him once more, no longer hiding your want for him, but he notices right away. “You want this, don’t you, Y/N?” You bite your lip in response, head nodding slightly as you continued to watch his hand. “Use your words, princess.”

“Y–yes…”

“As much as I’d love to give it to you,” he pauses, slowing his strokes, “I’m not sure you deserve it yet… but maybe I could be convinced.” He smirks, his eyes lowering at you– waiting for your next move.

“R–Roman–,”

“Please, Y/N, call me Joe.”

“O–okay… Joe…” you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice shaking as you speak. “W–what do you w–want me to do?” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty of ideas. Come here.” Hesitantly, you rise to your feet and stand between his legs, staring down at him. “Strip f’me, baby girl. Lemme see you.” You nod obediently as your fingers find the hem of your shirt, pulling the material over your head then finding the button of your jeans, Joe taking the lead and pulling the denim off your legs as you step out of them and push them to the side. 

“Goddamn, Y/N, you been hidin’ all this from me?” Another blush comes across your cheeks, your arms instinctively coming up to cover your chest but Joe grabs your wrists and stops you. “Uh, uh, none of that. Now, get over here.” He pulls you by your wrists and pushes you down onto his lap, ass in the air as his large fingers trace down your spine, giving you chills.

“You’re gonna count until I tell you to stop… stop counting or mess up and we start all over, understand me?”

“Y-yes sir..” you mutter under your breath.

“Speak up, princess.” He demanded sharply, his nails digging into your ass cheek– making you wince.

“I understand,” you say louder this time as the man nods in satisfaction. Without warning, the palm of his hand connects with your ass cheek. You cry out, in a mixture of pain and pleasure, but somehow are able to whimper, “One.” Smack. A little harder this time, but you’re able to keep up with the count. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 5 you feel nothing but pure pleasure with each spanking his hand delivers. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. By count 10 your ass is beat red, hand-shaped welts matching Joe’s identically form on the surface of the sensitive skin. Smack. Smack. By count 12 the pool of wetness that was contained by the fabric of your panties had now completely soaked through, leaving a puddle of your juices on Joe’s thigh. 

Smack. Smack. Smack. “You love this shit, don’t you pretty girl?” Your ass had become numb at this point, tears pricking your eyes as you cried sounds of pleasure and whimpers of his name– never losing count. The hand that punished you was now caressing the welted skin, brushes of his rough palm making you wince as he soothed the area. Joe stops his movements to bring your body back up, wincing as your ass brushed the fabric of the couch. 

“Look at my hand, ma. Look what you did.” He shows you his palm, which was equally as red as your bare ass. You weren’t sure what came over you, whether it was the heat of the moment or a secret fantasy but you found yourself reaching for his hand. His brows furrowed at your action, almost caught off guard but relaxed the moment you pressed your lips to the redness of his palm. You peppered kisses all across the palm, soothing it with your lips before giving the area small kitten licks with your tongue, further alleviating the redness– no, worshipping the hand that punished you. He watched in awe as your lips found the length of his fingers, kissing each digit before taking his index and middle fingers in your mouth, sucking gently around them as you stared into his eyes.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, “Think you deserve a reward, baby. Did so good f’me… you want that?” You remove his fingers from your mouth with a pop, looking into his eyes from your kneeled position. 

“Please, daddy.” His eyes lit up at this new pet name, something within him igniting and driving him to practically pounce on you– pushing you down onto the couch as he climbs on top of you.

“Say that shit again.” His voice is low and demanding, rich with desire as he smirks down at you– oh, he liked that. A lot. 

“Fuck me, daddy. Please.” You whine, biting your lip at him as he devours you with his eyes. His tip teases your entrance for a moment before fully entering you, giving you no warning and zero time to adjust before driving into you relentlessly. He uses his hands to grab the back of your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders, fully stretching you– imposing his will on your body and making you his personal plaything. Joe leans down to your neck and begins sucking on the skin, bruises rising to the surface to match the ones created under his fingertips on your hip bones. You knew you would never be able to hide them, especially after this, but you felt too damn good to give a fuck about a hickey or two– or ten. 

Your moans and cries reverberated off the walls with a resounding echo, joining the sounds of your skin colliding and heavy breathing and filling the room. Your nails claw long scratches into the man’s back, the pain only further pushing him to fuck you harder. 

“Fuck, baby, so fuckin’ tight. Imma have to wear this pussy out more often, aren’t I? Yeah, you’d fuckin’ love that shit, huh? Tell Daddy how much you love his fuckin’ cock.”

“Mmm, I– I love it, daddy. Y– you fuck me s– so good…” You whimper, feeling the beginning of your climax start to form in your lower stomach. 

“Shittt, you gonna cum for daddy like a good girl?” Your walls flutter around his length at his words, making him chuckle. “Yeah, you like it when I call you my good girl?” You moan in response, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel your orgasm approaching.

“D– daddy I– I’m gonna… gonna cum…”

“Give it to me, princess. Been such a good girl for Daddy… mmm fuck, show me how good Daddy makes you feel. Cum f’me, baby.” Your pussy squeezes his cock before he can finish, your orgasm ripping through you as you arch off the couch and fully release on his cock. Your body violently shakes as the overwhelming pleasure completely consumes you and, for a moment, you’re seeing stars. Joe fucks you through your orgasm, his following shortly after as he paints your walls with his cum and fills your swollen pussy completely. For a moment you two remain there, trying to come down from your highs as you catch your breath. It’s silent between you for a couple minutes, until Joe breaks it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“What, to fuck my brains out?” You laugh, causing a smile to come across his face.

“No, well yes, but not just that… I mean even just laying here with you. You weren’t the only one who felt something, you know.” “Oh.. why didn’t you say something then?”

“You seemed really closed off, like I wanted to ask you out bu–”

“Hey, Joe!” The two of you hear Jamie's muffled voice as he knocks on the wooden door across the room from you. “I’m coming in, we’ve got our segment in 10 minutes!” Shit.

“Fuck, he can’t see you in here. Hold on,” Joe pulls out of you, making you wince, and brings you to your feet. “Here,” he ushers you into a closet, gathering as much of your clothing as he can and hiding it before shutting the door, although the room was still visible from the crack in the closet door. You watch quietly as Jamie and Joe discuss the upcoming segment, Joe seemingly being able to play it off like nothing happened.

Author’s Note -> I’m not sure if I like this or not but I’ve had so many Tama requests that I have to feed y’all rq 😂 it’s short but hopefully y’all enjoy! maybe this gets a part two? 

Plot -> The Wyatt Sicks have made you their newest target, and you need some protection. Desperate, you approach the Right Hand Man of the New Bloodline. But protection comes with a price…

Pairings -> Tama Tonga x Fem!Reader

Warnings -> Cursing, Hickies, Unprotected P in V, Creampie, Suggested Threesome, Not Proofread, MDNI

Word Count -> 1.7k

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…”  You’re so screwed. Beyond screwed, actually. You were starting to regret turning on your tag partner mid-match as the lights went out and fireflies illuminated the arena, the eerie notes of the piano playing as you were now surrounded by these freaks they call the Wyatt Sicks. Abby the Witch, otherwise known as Nikki Cross, crawled toward you at a painstakingly slow pace while the others stood on the ring apron– staring a hole through you. You thought being on Smackdown you were safe from their vigilantism, but boy, were you wrong. You were now prey, being hunted by a group with no real compass– nothing to lose. And the thought of becoming a victim just like Chad Gable, like The Miz, like The Final Testament, like so many others who had to atone for their sins before the Wyatt’s had you motionless; a deer in the headlights. The sounds of the arena roaring for your demise filled your eardrums and had your heartbeat pounding to the rhythm of the piano keys that played over the speakers. You had to get out of there, and fast. The entire group was going through the ropes attempting to circle you in the ring but before they could, you found a hole in their formation and snuck through it, allowing you to escape without a scratch. There was no time to gloat over your elusiveness, nor did you want to stall out there where they could still reach you, so you ran as fast as your legs could carry you to the backstage area. You continued looking behind you, hoping to God that they weren’t following you as you were now sprinting, looking for somewhere– anywhere, to hide.

You came across the door to the Bloodline’s locker room, halting as you approached it. You remembered they had a match prior to yours, realistically they should be out of the arena and on their way to their plane by now. Perfect. You quickly pushed the door open and slammed it shut, leaning your head against it and letting out deep breaths to slow your heart rate.

“Well, look who it is… nice of you to join us, Y/N.” Your eyes snap open as Solo speaks, fear washed over your face. Shit.

“I– I’m so sorry, I d–didn’t know you were still here… I was just–”

“Oh we saw, sweetheart. Pretty stupid of you to go around betraying your partner, knowing those freaks are lurking around.” Solo approaches you, grabbing your chin and turning your head to look at all sides of your face. You swallow hard, your throat feeling dry as nerves overtook you. “It’s funny you stumbled in here, Tama over there was just telling me about you. You were right,” he looks behind him to his Right Hand Man, “she’s bad as hell.” You make eye contact with Tama, who has been looking you up and down since you burst into the room, his eyes dark and a smirk painted on his lips– nodding at his Tribal Chief. 

“I– I can find somewhere else to go, I just–”

“Leaving so soon? But you just got here. And besides,” he pauses, “I think you need us. You leave here and who knows, you might get yourself snatched up. Sounds to me like you need some protection… am I right about that?” You nod slowly as he removes his grip on your chin, walking backwards towards the couch in the middle of the room. “Now, usually I’m not one to deal in negotiations, but I have some things that need taken care of… and I think you could be of service to us. Have a seat, Y/N. Let’s chat.” 

Anxiously, you walk yourself over to the couch where Solo sits, glancing cautiously at Tama before sitting down across from him. You swallow the lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to speak.

“So, you have a Wyatt Sicks problem, huh? And what would you like us to do about that?” You look at him through your lashes, listening intently as he continues. “Clearly you ain’t got nobody in your corner, and if you try to go after ‘em yourself… I imagine you won’t get very far alone. So what do you want us to do, take ‘em out? Send them packing back to Raw? Because if that’s the case we can definitely do that…”

“Right… yeah. I would apprecia–”

“Let me finish,” you closed your mouth quickly, not wanting to test the Tribal Chief’s patience. “If we help you, you’re gonna have to give us something in return… now I don’t necessarily need anything from you, but Tama here,” he gestures to his Right Hand Man, who is still eyeing you like a hawk scoping its prey, “might have something in mind.”

“Oh, I have plenty of ideas…” A shiver traveled down your spine as he sits next to you, his hand traveling to your knee– his thumb rubbing the skin slowly. Your eyes travel from his hand and up his arm, moving up his body until you’re looking into his eyes. You chew on the inside of your lip, weighing your decision as his hand rides up your thigh, inching higher.

“I think you understand what he’s getting at, don’t you?” Your head snaps back to Solo as you nod slowly. You know what Tama wants, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t. You noticed the way he stared at you the moment you entered their locker room– noticed the adjustment of his pants he tried to conceal when your body was pressed against the wooden door, and especially noticed his hand threatening to reach your core.

“So,” you finally found the words to speak, your throat feeling tight as you forced them out, “if I do this… you’ll help me?” 

“You have my word, Y/N. But,” he pushed off the couch, rising to his feet. “As much as I’d love to stick around and enjoy the show, I’ve gotta make sure I hold up my end of our little deal. And Tama,” he focuses his attention on the man next to you, “don’t play too rough, we might need her… services again soon.” He winked at you, extending his hand for you to take, shaking your hand as a means to confirm the deal before walking out of the locker room and shutting the door– locking it behind him. Your head is then turned by Tama, who looks deeply into your eyes.

“If you don’t want this you can tell me now, I’ll just–”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you smile softly at the man in front of you, “we made a deal, right?”

“Well yeah, but this wasn’t really what I had in mind when I thought about getting you alone…”

“Mmm, so you’ve thought about this before?” A wave of embarrassment washes over Tama’s face, softening as your hand finds his cheek. “Then show me.” His eyes darken at your words, nearly pouncing on you as he pushes you down on the couch and climbs on top of you. His lips crash into yours roughly, hands wandering your body as a moan spills from your lips. The two of you frantically strip yourselves of your clothing, nearly ripping it off of each other as your tongues battle for domination. His hips grind into yours, the growing wetness between your thighs only getting stronger as your core aches to be touched. Whines fall from your lips as his connect with your neck, finding the sensitive skin under your ear and marking you with purplish bruises. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I can’t wait any longer. Come here.” He pulls you off the couch and onto his lap, your thighs straddling his as his tip pokes at your entrance. His hands move to your hips, crashing them down onto his cock as he fully enters you. A loud moan spews from your throat, as he wastes no time to guide your hips. His cock stretches you completely, feeling as he drives deep inside you with the combined movement of your hips and his matching each other's thrusts. You were fully bouncing on him, the sounds of your cries echoing the locker room as your hips connected. It was frantic, desperate, needy of release as your skin slapped together. He pulled you into his chest, holding you as his hips thrusted into you from underneath. Your orgasm approached faster than you could realize it, his cock teasing your g-spot as he pounded you mercilessly. You knew he was close too, his groans in your ear vibrating through your body and to your core, the slick from your pussy creating wet sounds with each snap of his hips.

“Fuckkk, your pussy’s so wet f’me. You were made for me. Shit, Y/N, you want me to fill you up, don’t you?” You moaned in response, that being the only form of words you could muster as he drove you closer to release.

“I–”

“Mmm, go ‘head and cum f’me. I gotchu, baby girl.” Your orgasm rips through you at his words, your head nestling into his neck as you cry his name and release on his cock. He follows suit, a low groan reverberating through your ears as his cum paints the inside of your walls. His hips slow their rhythm as he helps you ride out your orgasm before pulling out of you, a whimper coming from your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you think that was it? We’re just getting started,” his voice oozes with lust as he flips you onto your hands and knees, continuing right where he left off. As he does the door unlocks and in comes Solo, a shit-eating smirk painted across his face. 

◦ You Taste Better

◦ Dripping (tw: blood) ◦ Spill

coming soon...

◦ There's No Going Back

◦ Never Have I Ever

◦ Baby, It's Cold Outside

◦ Pin Me

◦ Finisher (sequel to Pin Me)

◦ All-Inclusive

◦ Don't Knock It 'Til You Try It

◦ Make You Sweat

◦ Slow Burn

◦ Celoso

◦ You're My Problem

◦ Sanctuary

◦ Under The Mistletoe

coming soon...

coming soon...

◦ Paradise- Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Reader

◦ Tag Team- Roman Reigns x Jey Uso x Reader

◦ Masquerade- Damian Priest x Reader