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caramelcleopatraa · 6 days ago

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🤌🏾🤌🏾 chef’s kiss! omg i was just reading about actor au’s too. literally came at the right time 🥰

Co-Star (Roman Reigns)

Juliana “Juju” Hamilton, a celebrated TV star, and Roman Reigns, a former WWE icon stepping into his first major acting role, play star-crossed lovers on a hit series. But as they prepare to film their first sex scene, the lines between fiction and reality begin to blur.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Actress Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 4.5k

King, Season 1

Ramona Kane is the heiress to the Kane Hotels & Hospitality empire and the mastermind behind the biggest illegal arms syndicate in the West Coast. They call her ‘King’, because everyone thinks it’s a man calling the shots. Using the hotel chains as a front, she immerses herself in the dark, ruthless, cutthroat underworld to avenge her parents, aiming to become powerful enough to ultimately take down the drug lord who brutally murdered them.

Logan is a mysterious Black Ops agent who falls in love with Ramona, but he soon discovers her ties to the entity he has been tirelessly hunting down for years.

It’s a great script. Juju was hooked from the first page. She was also happy to report that her love life was not as complicated as that of her character. But that would mean she currently had a love life, which she absolutely did not.

The King set is bustling, yet Juju Hamilton feels like she’s moving through molasses. Her nerves are high-strung, her mind circling the same thought over and over again: Today’s the day. She’s been in the industry long enough to handle big scenes, intense stunts, even emotionally grueling moments.

But this? A sex scene with the Roman Reigns?

That’s another beast entirely.

“The very first sex scene,” Sienna chirps from the couch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Her excitement only adds fuel to Juju’s already fraying nerves. “Are you ready?”

Juju forces a laugh, smoothing her hands down the fabric of her dress. “Born ready.”

Sienna waggles her eyebrows. “And Roman? You think he’s ready for you?”

Juju shoots her assistant a playful glare, but her stomach flips at the mention of him. Roman isn’t just her co-star...he’s a complication. A magnetic force who commands attention without even trying. She had assumed his wrestling background would make him stiff or overly rehearsed in front of the camera, but instead, he’s been disarmingly natural. His instincts are sharp, his presence undeniable. And, admittedly, maddeningly attractive.

Too attractive.

She’s spent months keeping things professional, pushing aside how effortlessly he flirts, how his deep voice lingers just a second too long when he says her name. But now, they’re about to strip down—literally and figuratively—in a way neither of them can take back. And for the first time since meeting Roman Reigns, Juju isn’t sure if she’s ready for him.

She stands in front of the full-length mirror in her trailer, smoothing the neckline of the custom-made evening gown that clings enticingly to her curves. The material shimmers under the dim light, the design sculpted to showcase Ramona Kane’s lethal elegance and sensuality. The dress is stunning, undeniably powerful, but it feels like a weight tonight, one she knows will literally fall away in the course of filming. The script demands it. She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her hands to dispel the rising tension in her chest, but the thought still lingers, as potent as the role itself.

She’s acutely aware of what’s coming. Every glance, every deliberate touch, every heated whisper that will lead to Logan stripping Ramona bare.

She runs her hands over her dress one last time, as if to anchor herself, before meeting her own reflection with a steadying gaze. For a moment, she’s not Juju anymore. She’s Ramona Kane, poised and unapologetically seductive, ready to make the world—and Logan—kneel.

The scene unfolds in a lavish hotel suite, one of Ramona's, where floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the city skyline, sparkling under the night sky. The suite exudes luxury, just like Ramona, with plush velvet furnishings, gilded accents, and a crystal chandelier casting a warm golden glow across the room.

Roman stands near the grand piano, tall and commanding in a sleek black suit, the jacket gone and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. His dark, piercing gaze is fixed on her. He embodies Logan completely: calculating, enigmatic, and hopelessly captivated by Ramona even against his better judgment.

“And…action!” the director yells, and the room plunges into a charged silence.

Juju steps into the scene, slipping into Ramona’s skin as if the weight of her secrets has always belonged to her. Across from her, Roman transforms into Logan—rigid, betrayed, simmering with fury barely held in check. The truth has detonated between them, and now, there’s no turning back.

“You lied to me,” he growls, his voice rough and edged with something rawer than anger; something dangerously close to heartbreak. His fists flex at his sides, his entire body wound tight like a coil ready to snap.

Ramona feels the accusation hit like a bullet to the chest. Her composure crumbles, her lips parting as if she can swallow back the truth, but it’s too late. “I lied to protect you,” she says, voice thick with desperation, heavy with regret. “You wouldn’t understand-”

“Bullshit!” Logan spits, his voice cutting through hers like a blade. He steps forward, and instinctively, she retreats, her back pressing against the edge of the desk. But there’s no escaping him. His anger, his presence, his damn-near palpable heartbreak pins her in place just as surely as his gaze does.

“It’s not bullshit! I lied to save your life!” Ramona pleads, her voice rising, cracking under the weight of her guilt. “If they found out who you were, you’d be dead! And if you knew who I was…” Her breath hitches.

“And who are you? Huh?” His voice is quieter now, but no less lethal. He reaches out, gripping her arm; not cruelly, but with an unyielding force that makes it impossible to run. His touch burns through the fabric of her sleeve, sending her pulse into a wild staccato. “Tell me what you’re part of, Ramona. Tell me the truth.”

Juju moves as if the weight of the scene is pressing down on her, her every breath heavy with Ramona’s turmoil. She rips her arm from his grasp, her eyes burning with unshed tears. “I’m not just part of it, Logan,” she confesses, her voice shaking but unyielding. “I am it.”

The words land between them like a death knell. “The entity you’ve been hunting, the one you’ve risked everything to bring down…King…” Her breath shudders. “King is me.”

Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating. This revelation has shattered everything, and now they stand on the wreckage of trust, trying to find footing where none exists.

Logan exhales sharply, his expression flickering—disbelief, rage, and something far more dangerous. Hurt.

“You…” He stops himself, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear it. A bitter laugh escapes him, sharp and humorless. “You shoulda told me.”

Her lips part, but she says nothing.

“You should’ve told me,” he repeats, and now his voice is raw, fractured. “You let me hunt you down. You let me look for a monster, knowing the whole damn time it was you.”

Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them away. “If I told you, Logan, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!” he snaps, furious. “You think I can’t handle myself? That I needed you to play God with my life?” His jaw clenches. “I’ve been in the crosshairs my entire life, Ramona. I didn’t need your protection. I needed the truth!”

Ramona shakes her head, pressing a fist against her forehead as if trying to hold herself together. “You don’t understand! If I didn’t lie, they would have used you against me. They would’ve killed you just to hurt me.” Her voice cracks. “I had no choice!”

Logan steps closer, and suddenly, it’s like the entire room disappears. The heat between them is unbearable, suffocating. He looks at her like he’s trying to memorize every line of her face, like the truth is burning through him but still—still—he wants her.

“And what about me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, yet thick with emotion. “What if I wanted to fight for you? What if I would’ve risked everything just to keep you?”

Her chin trembles, as does her voice.

“You shouldn’t,” she whispers, “You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to.” His voice is barely more than a breath, but his pain, his longing…it’s all there, simmering beneath the anger. “And you hate it, don’t you?”

He should be mad. He should hate her. But standing here, looking at her, all he can feel is the crushing weight of knowing that none of it changes the way he feels.

He’s in love with Ramona.

His fingers twitch at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for her. “You hate that you feel the same way I do. Because it makes you vulnerable. Makes you human.”

Tears fill Ramona’s eyes. Another shuddering breath. “I don’t hate it,” she confesses, “I hate that I can’t stop it.” Her eyes lock onto his, glassy with unshed emotion. “I hate that I can’t stop what I feel for you.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, his expression torn between anger and something softer, almost fragile. He exhales, his head bowing for a moment as if he’s trying to regain control.

“Logan…I…” she begins.

“Don’t,” he cuts her off, shaking his head. “Don’t say it. If you do, there’s no going back, Ramona.”

It’s almost a threat, and she understands exactly what he means. But the walls have crumbled already. Finally, she takes a step closer, lifting her hand to his chest. Her touch is light, hesitant, but it sparks something in both of them.

“I love you,” she says, her voice barely audible, a plea and an admission all at once. “I tried not to. God, I tried…”

Logan’s shoulders sag, his eyes closing as if the weight of her words is too much to bear. For a moment, she thinks he’ll walk away, finally let her go. But then his eyes snap open, blazing with emotion.

“Dammit, Ramona,” he says hoarsely, his hands coming up to cup her face. “I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen. I told myself I couldn’t love you—but I do. I do.”

Juju can barely keep her composure. Roman’s proximity is intoxicating, his scent, a mix of cologne and something warm, something distinctly him, pulling her under. The script calls for a kiss, but the moment he leans in, the air shifts. The line between fiction and reality dissolves.

His lips crash against hers, and instinct takes over. Her fingers tighten around his shoulders, his grip firm at her waist. The kiss is raw, desperate—full of something neither of them are willing to name. It’s supposed to be just a scene, just acting. But the way his mouth moves against hers, the way her body melts into him, says otherwise.

“And cut! End scene!”

The director’s voice slices through the moment, sharp and commanding, but neither of them react right away. Their lips linger, the ghost of the kiss still hanging between them. Roman is the first to pull back, just an inch, his breath hot against her mouth. His dark eyes flick to hers, still half-lidded, still caught in whatever that was.

Juju swallows hard, her chest rising and falling in sync with his. The air between them is thick, charged…dangerous.

Roman’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

Juju forces herself to take a step back, but her fingers are still curled into his shirt like she’s forgotten how to let go.

The scene transitions to the bedroom, where Logan and Ramona’s turbulent emotions ignite into a raw, unrelenting passion. Juju lies back on the bed, completely bare beneath him, her body exposed and vulnerable under the soft glow of the set lights. Roman moves over her, equally nude, his skin warm and firm against hers. His hands glide over her bare curves, deliberate yet trembling with a restrained intensity. Despite the boundaries they’d discussed, his touch feels unguarded, electric, each brush of his fingers sparking a fire in her veins.

“And…action!”

Juju barely has time to inhale before Roman is on her, his body pressing her into the mattress with an intensity that makes the scripted moment feel anything but staged. His breath is hot against her throat, his lips dragging over sensitive skin before parting to press an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. She shivers—an unplanned reaction, one that isn’t in the script—but it doesn’t matter. It fits.

His weight settles over her, heavy and consuming, and the slow roll of his hips sends a shockwave through her core. The modesty barriers between them—the flesh-toned strap securing him inside his boxers, the seamless covers shielding her chest—should make this feel clinical. But they don’t. Because when he thrusts again, slow but firm, she feels him. Feels the hard length of him pressing exactly where her body craves it, even through the barriers.

A moan spills from her lips, raw and breathless, and the sound seems to trigger something in him. His grip tightens on her hip, fingers digging into the curve of her waist as he moves faster, more desperate. The bed creaks beneath them, the set fading into nothing as their bodies move in sync, grinding, needing.

Her legs tighten around his waist, anchoring him closer, urging him to keep going. And he does. His forehead drops to hers, his breath coming faster, rougher, as his hips stutter just slightly. His dark eyes burn into hers, and for a split second, the question in them is real. Is she feeling this too? Is she lost in this the same way he is?

“Cut! And that’s a wrap, people!”

The director’s voice slices through the haze, forcing them to stop. But their bodies remain tangled, breathing ragged, sweat beading at their skin despite the cool studio air.

Then, reality crashes back in.

Roman lifts himself off her, his arms shaking slightly as he steadies himself. Juju remains beneath him, her chest rising and falling, her body still buzzing from something she can’t name.

“You okay?” His voice is soft, like a whisper meant only for her.

Juju nods, though her pulse is erratic, her body still buzzing from his touch. “Yeah. You?”

His lips curve into a slow, devastating smile, his dimples deepening as his gaze holds hers. “Never better.”

The words linger between them, weighted with meaning she doesn’t dare acknowledge.

The rest of the set is silent. No one dares to speak.

Because whatever just happened between them…

It wasn’t acting.

Juju sits on the edge of her trailer’s narrow bed, her fingers gripping the hem of her robe as if that alone will anchor her. Hours have passed since they wrapped for the day, but her body hasn’t forgotten. The heat of him. The way his weight felt pressing her into the mattress. The way he had moved against her until the lines had blurred.

She lets out a slow, measured breath, but it does nothing to steady her pulse.

This is stupid. She should let it go.

Tomorrow, they’ll be back on set, pretending like nothing happened. That’s the unspoken rule. What happens under the lights, in front of the cameras, stays there. Professionalism. Boundaries. Distance. But none of that explains why her skin still tingles where he touched her. Why her body reacts as if he’s still there, his breath ghosting over her neck, his voice rough with need as he rasped her name.

She stands abruptly, pacing the small space of her trailer.

If she goes to him now, what happens next? Would they fuck just to chase away the tension? To get it out of their systems? Would it ruin everything? Or worse…would it make things unbearably real?

The whispers on set would start the moment someone saw her slip out of his trailer in the morning. It would be all they talked about. And the aftermath. God, the awkwardness. That post-nut clarity that only comes after you’ve given in to something you can’t take back.

She grips the doorknob, hesitating.

She should go back to bed. She should forget this.

Instead, she exhales, opens the door, and steps out into the night.

The air is crisp against her overheated skin, but it does nothing to cool the fire burning in her veins. The camp of trailers is silent, save for the faint hum of a distant generator, the occasional rustle of wind against metal. She moves quickly, her bare feet barely making a sound against the pavement.

When she reaches his trailer, she hesitates just long enough to hate herself for it.

Then, before she can change her mind, she knocks. Once, twice.

The door opens, and there he is; damp hair curling against his neck, a loose T-shirt clinging to his broad chest, sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Juju.”

Her name in his mouth is thick, warm, like honey over gravel. But his expression, half-surprise, half-knowing, is impossible to read.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His voice is lower than usual, rougher.

She shakes her head. She’s not sure she’s slept well in months.

Roman steps aside, and she moves past him into the trailer, barely aware of the door clicking shut behind her. The space shrinks with his presence, heat rolling off his body, thickening the air. It hums between them, the same volatile energy that’s been sparking since their first chemistry read. The same current that made the director say, Jesus Christ, you two are money!

Juju shifts on her feet, arms wrapped tightly around herself. “I…I couldn’t stop thinking about the scene.” The admission scrapes out of her, barely audible.

Roman swallows. Hard. “Me neither,” he murmurs.

She doesn’t miss the way his jaw flexes, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for her. She wants him to.

Then, low, nearly guttural, he says, “I can still feel you.”

Her stomach tightens.

He steps closer, just enough for the air between them to thicken. “Your legs around my waist,” he continues, his tone edged with danger, lust. “Your nails in my back.” His eyes drag down her body, slowly, deliberately. “The way you moaned for me.”

Juju’s breath stutters.

Roman’s hand lifts, his knuckles ghosting along her jaw. “Even through the pads…even through all that fake shit they had us wear…” His thumb drags over her bottom lip, gaze dark and locked onto hers. “I could feel how wet you were.”

A pulse of heat licks up her spine.

Then, like a dam finally bursting, they crash into each other.

His hands framing her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. Her fisting his shirt, pulling him flush against her. He groans into her mouth, his fingers slipping beneath her robe. It parts easily, and his hands find her bare skin, gripping, kneading, burning his touch into her. There’s nothing tentative about it. This isn’t slow, or sweet. It’s raw, a collision of lips and tongues and unspoken need.

Her head falls back against the nearest wall as he presses against her, solid, unyielding. The hard length of him settles between her thighs, and she welcomes it, gasping softly as he grinds against her, as he pulls her leg up to hook around his waist.

“Baby girl,” he rasps against her lips, his breath ragged. “Tell me to stop. If you don't want this...”

Juju digs her nails into his shoulders, her response immediate, breathless.

“Don’t you dare.”

They’ve been fighting this for months.

No more.

He lifts her with ease, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carries her to his couch. The kiss turns feral, their mouths devouring as his hands explore her body, reverent yet insistent. When his lips trail down her neck, her breath catches, and she presses closer, needing more.

Clothes fall away in a blur of heat and urgency. Roman’s skin is hot against hers, his muscles flexing under her touch. He lays her down, his hands and lips leaving a trail of fire along her skin. Her body arches into his as if they’ve done this a thousand times, as if they’ve been waiting for this moment all along.

Roman’s mouth never leaves hers, the urgency in his movements igniting something deep within her. He holds her with deliberate care, as though she’s precious, but the look in his eyes tells her he’ll be anything but gentle tonight. His hands skim her thighs, spreading her open as he climbs over her, their bodies flush with each other.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick, sending shivers racing down her spine. His fingers trace the curve of her hip, then move to her breast, teasing her until she gasps. “I’ve been wanting to touch you, really touch you, like this, Juju. You don’t fucking know what you do to me.”

Her breath catches as his lips press against the hollow of her throat, dragging down her chest. “Roman…” His name comes out in a breathless plea, her hands finding their way into his damp hair, tugging him closer.

“You like it when I touch you, don’t you?” he growls against her skin, his teeth grazing her nipple before his mouth closes over it, sucking until she arches off the bed. “Say it, baby.”

“Yes,” she gasps, her voice trembling as heat pools in her belly. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good girl.” His voice is a dark promise, and he kisses her again, devouring her like he can’t get enough. His hands are everywhere; cupping, squeezing, gripping her body like he’s memorizing every inch of her. He kisses a path down her stomach, taking his time, his beard rough against her soft skin. When his face hovers between her thighs, she forgets how to breathe. He spreads her wider, his thumbs pressing into her soft flesh as he looks up at her with a sinful smirk.

“I bet this pussy taste as good as you look,” he taunts.

Before she can respond, his mouth is on her folds, his tongue moving with precision, dragging over her in ways that make her back bow and her toes crack. He groans against her pussy, the vibration making her cry out, her fingers clutching at the sheets.

“Roman…oh god…”

“That’s right, baby girl, lemme hear how much you love it,” he murmurs, his voice husky as he kisses the inside of her thigh before diving back in.

She’s trembling beneath him, the coil in her stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue, every slow circle he draws. When she shatters, her release comes in waves, pulling her under as she gasps his name like a prayer.

He doesn’t give her time to recover. Moving over her, he positions himself between her legs, his body radiating heat and power. His dark eyes meet hers, and the raw hunger there makes her heart palpitate.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, kissing her long and deep. “You have no idea how hard it’s been keepin’ my hands off you.”

“Then don’t,” she whispers, her hands sliding down his back, nails scraping lightly over his skin. “Don’t hold back, Roman.”

He groans, the sound primal, and he slides his dick into her in one fluid motion, making her cry out. The stretch is exquisite, and she clings to him as he moves, his pace unrelenting. The couch shakes beneath them, rocking forwards with each of his powerful thrusts.

“This what you wanted?” he growls against her ear, his teeth nipping at her lobe. “You wanted me to fuck you like this? Hard and deep until you can’t think straight?” Without warning, he winds his hips, hitting a spot that makes her mouth drop open. “That’s it, baby. Take it. Take all of me.”

“Yes, baby,” she gasps, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck, Roman…”

He leans down, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss, moaning when her hands slip south to knead the firm skin of his ass. Their bodies move together in perfect rhythm, her moans and whimpers mixing with his groans as they both get dragged closer to ecstasy. The friction, the heat, the intensity; it’s all overwhelming, incredible.

When she falls apart again, her climax hits her like a tidal wave, her entire body trembling as she cries out his name. Roman follows moments later, his thrusts faster and harder until he freezes abruptly, his hips jerking as he spills into her, his groan low and guttural from the incredible sensation.

For a moment, neither of them moves, their bodies still fused with the aftershocks of pleasure. Their breathing is uneven, mingling in the small space between them, the air thick with sweat and something intimate.

Roman’s fingers trace slow, lazy circles along Juju’s spine before he presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, his touch unexpectedly tender as he brushes damp strands of hair from her face.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice husky, still laced with the remnants of desire.

Instead of answering, Juju tilts her chin up and captures his mouth in a slow, drugging kiss, all tongue and lingering heat, a noisy, post-coital indulgence that neither of them is ready to break. She moans softly into his mouth, her toes curling as his tongue sweeps against hers, deep and unhurried. Roman growls low in his throat, his grip tightening on her hip as if already debating whether to take her again.

With great reluctance, Juju breaks the kiss, her fingers trailing down his back, feeling the rise and fall of their joined breaths. “Never better,” she smirks, throwing his own line from earlier back at him.

Roman chuckles at that, his dimples flashing as he carries her from the couch over to his bed area, her ass firm in his grasp. “Good, because I ain’t done with you yet. We fucking all night, baby.”

Her laugh is breathless, but her body sparks to life again as his hands begin to wander, gearing her up for another round of earth-shattering passion.

The next morning, they arrive on set together, both of them glowing in a way that doesn’t go unnoticed. When they approach the director, Roman speaks first.

“So look…about yesterday’s scene…”

Juju finishes his sentence, “We think we can do it better.”

The director raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “If that’s what you want.”

As they take their places on set, Juju catches Roman’s eye. He winks at her, and she feels her heart flutter. The line between Ramona and Logan, Juju and Roman, is gone. All that’s left is the undeniable connection between them…and the knowledge that they may have crossed the point of no return, but boy, was it a fun trip.

THE END

Thoughts? How was it?

Roman gif by @dejameflorecer

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