#i just believe in my heart she has the range

[teliphone]

Love like a Fool

Summary: I shouldn’t known from the moment my heart felt more for Caitlyn, that it was a mistake. I thought love was supposed to be about taking risks and loving like a fool. I don’t want to regret anything, but I have to limit myself because she feels uneasy. Is it because of me? I must be lacking in many ways. I promised myself to get better. I need to prove to others that I can.  

Warning: Slight fluff then pure angst 

Pairing: Caitlyn Kiramman X Fem Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

-

The target moves back and forth in quick and uneven motion as a way to stimulate the movement of humans. I place the sniper rifle closer to my body. The cold metal pressed against my chest. I narrow my eyes at the target watching it jerk back and forth. I place my finger against the trigger as I start to steady my breathing. My heart rate begins to slow. The breeze in the air seems to be silent for a moment. My eyes quickly shift to focus on one target as it starts rolling toward the center of the scope. A loud bang comes from my gun as I press the trigger. The smell of gun smoke reaches my nose as the smoke rises from the nozzle. I lower the gun and tilt my body to examine the shot. A hole is evident on the target, but not where I was trying to aim. The bullet was several inches below the head of the target. I frown and feel disappointment arising from within. 

I want to be better and prove to others that I can take on tougher tasks. I’ve been assigned as an enforcer, stuck with the simple role of Piltover's council gatekeeper. I want to be part of the bigger action, specifically, to be part of Caitlyn’s team. 

I know I am capable, or at least… I hope I am. 

News spread that Caitlyn Kiramman has become a Sheriff and I couldn’t agree more. She is amazing at her job. I’ve secretly studied her in admiration. I saw her in action. She is stern and confident, but at the same time so graceful. She balances fear and love so well. Her facade never falls to others, but I sense there’s a softness in her gaze when she notices me. It’s a quick and small look, so I can’t put a finger on it. All I can do in response is smile back while feeling my cheeks heat up. 

“Practicing again?” A voice snaps me out of daydreaming. A recognizable British accent. Refined and poised. I turn my head to see Caitlyn standing with her arms crossed. I widen my eyes before saluting her. She has a soft grinning smirk on her lips. Her beautiful long blue hair falls over her shoulders. She’s in her work uniform, seemingly that she just finished a task. 

“Yes,” I quickly respond to her question. She chuckles shortly and walks over, eyeing the target. She stops next to me, a little closer than I expected and I feel my heart rate increase. My eyes quickly flicker at the curves of her body then back down the ground in respect. 

“You practice quite a lot,” She notes. This isn’t the first time I’ve bumped into her at the practice shooting area. It’s actually quite often. Caitlyn is strict with her studies and skills. She needs to do things perfectly right. It is not strange to find her at the shooting range after work hours. She has gotten used to seeing me there as well. She never said it, but I believe she likes how I’m willing to get better. She notices how other enforcers don’t practice as much.

I shyly run my hand on the back of my neck. Her eyes glance down to watch my reaction. I peek between my eyelashes and make eye contact with her. The closeness and eye contact make me unconsciously grip the gun. I quickly look back down to the ground. Examining the distance between our shoes. 

“I want to prove to others I can be good,” I finally admit. I didn’t want to reveal the part where I dream of being in her team. 

That would be too silly of a confession. 

She raises her eyebrows and pauses, deep in thought. The wind gently blows against my bare skin as silence coats the air. I feel anxiety increasing while she continues to stare at me, motionless and speechless. There’s a shift in her eyes, a shift that I don’t understand. 

Does she think I can’t be good? Is she too afraid to tell me the truth? 

Thoughts swirl in my head naturally. It’s a negative trait that I endure every day. My mind runs thousands of thoughts that can be entirely false. But I also believe certain voices are true, but I have yet to distinguish the two. I furrow my eyebrows and force myself to look away from her. I couldn’t bear to continue to theorize what her expression meant. I hear her shift her body to lean her body weight against the bullet-loading table. 

“I can help you,” She offers. I feel my heart stop pounding to make sure I didn’t hear her wrong. I jerk my head up with wide eyes. Caitlyn, the best sniper shooter, is going to help me. 

“Are you serious?” I hesitate. What did I do to deserve this special treatment from her? She simply nods and a few hair strands fall over her face. She smiles while brushing her bangs behind her ear. I am still speechless, not knowing what to do next. She figures and gently reaches for my gun. Her fingers curl around the handle, a few centimeters from my hand. She brings it up to my chest. I look at her in confusion yet again. 

“Show me how you aim,” She orders. I lick my lips and move quickly to action. I do not want to waste a single second of getting trained by her. I turn my body to the targets and lift the gun up. I lean my head down to look through the scope. Suddenly I feel Caitlyn move her body to locate behind me. Her fingers gently tilt the tip of the gun at a specific angle. Her other hand moves to my hip. Like a young girl in love, my heart pounds hard. I would also blame the fact that I am touched starved. Working as an enforcer limits the time I can spend romanticizing with others. People also avoid me. I am no one special, I like to believe. 

This is far from romantic. I know she doesn’t like me, but with her body heat pressing against me. I can’t help it. It’s quite embarrassing. 

“You should stand more straight,” She corrects. I shiver at the realization of how close her lips are to my ears. The distance sends chills down my body. No amount of daydreaming can make up for this moment. I shallow away my emotions and straighten my back. I feel myself press against her chest. 

“Slow down your heartbeat and breathing,” She chuckles. My cheeks start warming. 

“Sorry,” I squeak. She doesn’t respond, but instead continues to coach. She removes her hand from my hip and grips my shoulders. She reminds me to tighten my muscles and grip. Once she is satisfied with my position, she removes herself and stands back. I secretly let out a breath of relief. If she continued pressing her body against me, I wouldn't be able to perform accurately. That was the last thing I wanted to do in front of her. 

“Now focus and calculate the timing,” She orders. I close my eyes to calm my breathing. When I feel my heartbeat going at a steady pace, I open my eyes. My sight completely focuses on the target. 

I need to get this right. I have to impress Caitlyn. 

My attention zooms into a specific target and I press into the trigger. Another loud bang echoes into the sky. I let out a shaky breath of anticipation. I immediately lower my gun to look at the target. I guess my hope was too high. The bullet hole was a few centimeters from the head. Better than before, but not perfect. 

Not perfect enough for Caitlyn. 

My shoulders slowly drop and I feel anxious thoughts creeping up again. I frown and look at her nervously. I don’t know what to expect. To my surprise, she seems sort of proud. 

“Good job,” She compliments. 

-

A couple of months of training have passed faster than I realize. I am surprised at how long she agreed to train me. No one else has gotten this special treatment. Even though there are times when she’s tired from a mission, she would still show up. As time went on it wasn't just training anymore. We would go out to eat dinner or a picnic on a sunny day. Not only have my skills increased, but my crush on her did as well. I spent too much time with her to not develop deeper feelings. I didn’t want to. I wanted things professional, just in case I ruined things. 

The more time we spent together, the more people talked about us. Baseless rumors begin to spread. I didn’t want to hear it, but people spoke loudly- as if I wasn’t there. They all picture me as someone who manipulated her way to Caitlyn. That I am nothing special. I have no rich or authoritative name for myself. No one knew who I was until I started involving myself with her. 

I thought these accusations would cause Caitlyn to stay away from me. She’s everything I’m not. After all, she has an image to keep. I do not want to stain it. 

But, she never stopped. 

Caitlyn started to teach me about combat. She wanted to enhance not only my shooting skills but my fighting as well.  

So here we are, standing on the mat with our fists up. I suck in a deep breath as sweat begins collecting on my neck. I feel a slight painful sore developing on my stomach from her punch that I failed to block. She gestures a finger at me to make the first move. I launch myself to her and she swiftly dodges and elbows my back. I grunt and stumble on my footing. I gather myself, not wanting to give up and turn to face her. Her eyes hint with glee when she notices a shift in my face. I clench my jaw and focus on her moves. Then I saw it. A small opening where I can tackle her. I rush forward, grabbing her arm. She lets out a gasp in surprise before I hurl her onto the ground. I quickly pin her onto the ground by locking my thighs around her wrist. 

I smiled brightly, my eyes sparkling. I finally did it. Her chest moves up and down quickly as she gets lost in my joy. She places her elbow onto the ground to support half her body up. I continued smiling, unaware of the plan she had in mind. 

She leans her head closer, testing the waters. Her lips linger over mine before she pulls back a little. Her heavy-lidded eyes gaze up. My smile begins to slowly drop in realization. I gulp and a blush appears on my cheeks. Her eyes flicker from my lips and back to my eyes. I hesitate, not knowing what to do, but I lean forward. Eager to capture her lips, but afraid to make the first move. She gently smiles, understanding my actions before closing the distance.

Her soft lips pressed against mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fist.  She brings her hands up to touch my cheeks. Her thumbs draw a circle while her soft lips continue to move. I lean deeper into the kiss, wanting to permanently remember this moment forever. All my anxious thoughts seem to be silent just for a short moment. She is the first to pull away from the kiss. Leaning her forehead against mine. I place my hand over hers and smile. 

Caitlyn’s eyes suddenly become stern and she pulls her body away. My mind races in worry. I furrow my eyebrows while looking at her in confusion. 

“I’m sorry,” She apologizes. I shake my head slowly, trying to understand. 

Was the kiss a mistake? Did I do something wrong? 

“I…” I hesitate. I worry about my next words. I worried that she would push herself away if I said the wrong things. I wanted to confess my feelings, but I was afraid I would embarrass myself if she said it was a mistake. I wanted to tell her it was okay, but I feared she would think I didn’t feel anything. A part of me was so terrified that she did feel something for me, but the kiss awakened a realization in her. 

I never got the chance to gather my thoughts before she got up. I try to reach out and grab her wrist, but she hurries away. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll… see you sometime again,” She says before disappearing. I feel my eyes begin to water. My anxious thoughts may be right this time. As much as I try to think of a different conclusion, my negativity chokes up any other possible reasoning. 

-

Caitlyn avoided me. Every time she sees me walking by, she turns in the other direction. I try to force a smile. Understanding that she may be struggling with her thoughts. All I can do for her is to wait. I need to understand that I’m not enough for her. After several more days, I thought she had forgotten me. I went to my regular shooting range hoping to bump into her, but she never showed up. 

As I walk with my head down, I see a pair of shoes stop in front of me. I can immediately recognize her shoes. Caitlyn had blocked my walking pathway. I jerk back in surprise before examining her in confusion. Her eye circles are dark and her hair is messy. It seems like she has been lacking sleep. She licks her lips and plays with her fingers. I stand silent with a pounding heart, waiting for her to speak. She lets out a breath and I brace myself for the worst. 

“I’m sorry I avoided you,” She begins. I pause for a moment as her words sink. I summon my confidence by clenching my fist. My lips waver as I try to smile at her. I wasn’t actually happy, but I wanted to show her I appreciated her stepping up. I understand why she would want to avoid me. 

“It’s okay,” I answer, a little shaky for my liking. She glances around the hall as I assume she’s making sure no one else is around. A few people walk by, giving me an unexplainable stare. I tilt my head to the side to avoid people’s eyes. She then grabs my hand and tugs me along with her. I stumble on my footsteps to catch up with her. She pulls us into a dark room and slams the door. She breathes heavily, her chest moving up and down before turning to face me again. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. I can still see her figure with the small lamp in the corner. 

“I… I think I like you,” She confesses like the truth has been choking her to death. It's as if it’s a surprise that someone like her could be interested in someone like me. She stared at me with a scared expression like she didn’t fully understand herself. I feel my heart ache, but I force a smile again. 

She’s been struggling because of me. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but I realized I couldn’t say anything. 

“I don’t know what to say,” I admit. I shift my body weight uncomfortably. My hands come up to wrap themselves around me. A poor attempt to comfort myself. She pushes herself from the door and walks over to me. She hesitates a little, before reaching down to touch my hands. I stare at the way her fingers hold mine. She’s so gentle. 

“I want to try and love you,” She pauses, “but we have to do it in secret,” 

I tilt my head up to look at the sincerity in her eyes. I can tell she is worried. Wondering how people would view her if they found out she was meeting up with someone lowly like me. Debating if this reveal would hurt my feelings. It’s a little humorous that she doesn’t know the lengths I would go for her. 

I tightened my grip on her hands and tugged her a little closer. I examine the beauty that reflects off the orange light. She’s a beautiful woman worthy of respect and care. I remove one hand from her hold and place it on her cheeks. She leans into the touch, letting out a shaky breath. 

“I would do anything for you,” I confess like a fool in love. Her eyes dilate and she lets out a sigh of relief. Her shoulders relax as she finally smiles.

-

I never thought how much more I could fall for Caitlyn. I love her. I didn’t care about the hidden touches behind doors. The secret messages we pass. It was our love that I couldn’t regret. We completely ignore each other when passing by in the halls. Oh, how I wish I could shout to the world about her. Rumors between her and I have successfully died out. 

I wait patiently in my room, waiting for the skies to become darker so that Caitlyn can sneak her way over. I hear quiet quick knocks on the door. I stumble my way over and swing the door open. She stands with a shy smile on her face. I quickly grab her wrist and tug her in, slamming the door behind me. 

I pull her into a hug, soaking in her warmth and scent. She hugs back with the same amount of eagerness. We stay silent for a few more seconds before I pull away.

“Are you hungry?” I ask as I walk to the kitchen, “I can start preparing-“ 

She calls my name, cutting me off. I stop in my tracks to look at her. She seems hesitant again, her eyes wavering. A look that brings me back to the day we stood in the dark room. 

“I have to tell you something,” She explains. She starts walking to the coach and I follow along. I sit down, my knees brushing against hers. She reaches over to touch my hand with a stern look. 

“I got put on a very important case,” She says. I widen my eyes and smile. 

“Well, that’s great news right?” I chirp. She lets out a nervous laugh. Her gaze averts to the side for a brief second. My smile begins to drop slightly. 

“It is… but I have to be gone for a year,” She reveals.

“A year?” I repeat slowly. My grip starts to loosen from her hold. I shouldn’t be scared, but there is a part of me that worries. So much can happen in a year. 

“It’s a mission to go to the undercity and-“

I start to zone out. Undercity? That place is filled with horror stories. No sane person dares to step foot in there. At least that was how I was taught by others. I can’t imagine myself letting Caitlyn go down there. It’s just not safe. 

She squeezes my hands and I look back at her. My face is mixed with many emotions. I should not stop her from doing her job, but I don’t want her gone for a year in Undercity. What if she gets hurt and I can’t find her? How can I make a decision when I am unsure of myself? 

“Can you wait for me?” She whispers. 

The decision has already been made. 

I squeeze my eyes shut as I turn my head to the side. I didn’t want her to see me cry. She places her hands on my cheeks and slowly turns me to face her. I feel the warmth of her hands. 

“…when do you leave?” I sniff. 

“Tomorrow morning,” She responds. Time seems to pause for a moment. I wish it stayed like that; so that I could stay by her side longer. Tomorrow? This is so soon and sudden. I searched in Caitlyn’s eyes to find some type of hesitation, but there was nothing. I force myself to smile as my heart feels crushed. Nothing is going to stop her, not even my feelings. I understand that feelings alone can’t dictate her decision, but I wish it was considered just a little bit more. 

Did she really care about how I would feel? Did I not cross her mind when she accepted the mission? Do I matter that little? 

All the anxious thoughts blew away when Caitlyn pulled me in for a hug. How foolish am I to disregard my hurt so fast for her? Love makes a person a fool. 

-

Five months have passed since Caitlyn left to go to the Undercity. I have gotten used to the feeling of being alone. This feeling is rather normal and something I am more familiar with. I still keep my duties of guarding the gates of the council building. Days and days of people not sparing me a second glance as they walk by. I sometimes wonder if they would even notice if I didn’t show up one day. 

I keep the house clean. Making sure Caitlyn’s extra clothes are tucked neatly in my closet, ready for the day she comes back. When I lay in bed, I close my eyes and place my hand on the side where she usually lays. I imagine she is next to me. Humming and running her fingers through my hair. I smile for a moment, then frown when I realize I’m daydreaming again. It’s awfully cold without her touch. 

11 months have passed and I feel impatient for her return. The picture I keep on the desk lacks dust by how many times I’ve touched it. Running my fingers across her face to remind myself of how soft her skin feels. My heart squeezes when I examine the bright smile that the camera captures. I gently place the picture down and lean my head against the cold surface of the desk. 

Just a little more. I can wait, just like how she asked me to do. A simple task. I can do it. 

-

1 year and 1 month has passed. Anxiety eats away my skin as I scratch the surface with my nails. The councils ordered a one-month expansion, just in case Caitlyn had something important to do before they sent out a search for her. The enforcers are starting to become worried at the lack of her appearance. 

The councils issue a meeting to form a team of three of the best enforcers. I stand by the door with a racing heart, listening to the councils talk amongst themselves. They list off the best enforcers on documents. The back of my neck starts to feel hot. My feet feel the urge to step forward. I must go to find my love. I find myself walking forward recklessly.

“I apologize for my unprofessional behavior, but please allow me to join the team,” My voice clashes and silences the room. I glance around to see the confused look on their faces. They had no idea I was there. 

“And who are you?” One of the council's questions. They rub their fingers together with an amused smile. I bow down to show my respect. I tell them my name and title, with a shaky voice. There’s another pause again, til I hear someone snicker. That causes a domino effect where they all start to laugh. I bite my bottom lip as an embarrassing blush forms on my cheeks. My eyes water, tears forming at the edge. I turn my head down to stare at the floor. They question me and my motives:

“I never even noticed her there,”

“What can a gatekeeper do?”

“I admire how much courage that little girl has,”

“Why are you so concerned?” Mrs. Kiramman’s question sounds the clearest among the others. I tilt my head up to look at her. The truth feels like acid in my throat. Caitlyn had asked me to keep our relationship a secret. I must keep the promise. It’s not like it was hard to do so. I fully understand now why Caitlyn wanted it that way. They don’t take me seriously. I am just a laughing stock at this moment. I can’t dirty her name. 

I lick my trembling lips and shake my head. 

“I-I just want to-”

“I’m sorry dear, but we have an important discussion to do. The fate of my daughter relies on someone who can actually save her. Return to your position,” Mrs. Kiramman orders. I choke back my words. The little courage I have left vanishes. I quickly bow once more before walking back to my place. They return back to their conversation as normal, while I fight back tears. The uniform feels hot and stuffy against my skin. I feel unworthy of wearing the enforcer gear. 

The moon appears bright in the sky as I sneak my way down the streets. I tug my hoodie closer to hide my face as I make my way to the Undercity. I am going to search for Caitlyn on my own. 

The air starts to become more dense. I have never been here before. I can feel my anxious heart beating rapidly. A few strangers study me as I walk by. I grip my jacket closer to my body, avoiding their eyes. My footsteps quicken with one solid plan in mind. 

Find Caitlyn. 

I didn’t care how reckless I was being. Walking into the Undercity with no solid plan. I can’t even confidently say I can protect myself. Anything can happen to me before I can even find her. 

After walking for several minutes I realized how big this city is. I can’t just simply bump into her. I desperately look around to find someone that looks the least threatening. The task was harder to do than I expected. Most of the people are drunk or hunching their bodies as they are ready to launch forward. I scan more until I find a young boy. Innocent eyes with a few dirt marks scuffed on his cheeks. I walk to him, trying not to scare him off. He seems hesitant at first before I take my hoodie off to show my face. His shoulders visually relax. I kneel down to eye level with him. 

“Hi, can you help me find someone?” I whisper. His eyes dart around then back to me. He doesn’t respond. I shuffle around in my pocket to find money. Once I pull it out his eyes brighten. He quickly nods his head in agreement. 

“Can you help me find Caitlyn Kiramman? She is about this tall,” I stand to gesture her height, “she has blue hair and a sharp nose,” 

I try my best to describe her to him. I hoped that the description was enough for him. Caitlyn doesn’t look like she belongs in the Undercity. It must be easy to locate her. 

The young boy ponders for a moment before his eyes brighten. He places his hand out and motions me to hand the cash. I place it on top of his hand and he quickly puts it in his pocket. He gestures to me to follow along, his little footsteps patter on the ground. It took about several minutes before he paused and pointed down the street. I tilt my head to examine the low-light street. 

“She’s there?-“ I ask, but the little boy has already run off. I softly chuckle before composing myself. My heart quickens and the sound of my breathing is loud due to how quiet the streets are. I stand still for a moment to evaluate the setting. That’s when I hear a gentle giggle. 

A giggle that sends a wave of crashing memories. My eyes begin to water as I hear the sound again. It’s Caitlyn. I am sure of it. I silently follow the sound. I hear another voice, but can’t make out who it could be. Maybe Caitlyn made a friend while she was staying here. The sound leads me to a tunnel with stairs. 

I hide beside the walls and peek up the tunnel. There in the middle of the stairs is Caitlyn with another woman. My eyes widen in joy. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I can’t contain my excitement. I found her! She’s alive and well! I open my mouth to excitedly shout her name, but quickly stop. 

Caitlyn places her hands on the woman’s hip, pulling her closer. She giggles again, biting the bottom of her lip. The woman sweetly smiles and leans her head closer. She kisses Caitlyn slowly, running her hands down her waist. 

Overwhelming sorrow sinks deep within me. My eyes become glossy, blurring my vision of them. My hand jerks up to grip my chest. It squeezes and pounds in pain. I never knew my heart could physically hurt. I gasp for air as I feel like I’m about to collapse. I lose my footing for a moment, sliding against the wall. I place a hand on the cold wall to hold myself.

I hear Caitlyn softly calling out my name in confusion. I quickly blink to clear my vision. Caitlyn walks down the stairs till she stands in front of me. She stares at me with a shocked expression. I feel myself forcing a stupid smile again. I squeeze my chest to numb the pain again. 

“…Hi,” I choke out. A failed attempt to sound happy. Her eyebrows furrow as she shakes her head.  

“What are you doing here?” She asks. I want to cry out laughing. How can she ask that question? It’s been longer than a year, did she lose track of time? Was she too busy? 

“Who is this?” The woman beside her asks. Caitlyn's eyes move back and forth anxiously. 

“…She’s just an enforcer,” Caitlyn reveals. I furrow my eyebrows in despair and disgust. I’m just an enforcer to her? 

Was all the lovely touches nothing to her? Did the day she cried on my lap mean nothing? Whose name did she moan out when I touched her? 

Without thinking I march up to her to push her. At least something to express my hurt, but the woman steps in front and shoves me hard. I slam against the wall and let out a small grunt. I already feel small and pathetic against her strength. 

“Wait, stop,” Caitlyn hurries to stop the woman. I peek up from my watery eyelashes, breathing heavily. 

“She’s lying,” I quietly laugh. The woman clenches her fist and walks up to me. She grabs a fistful of my jacket around my neck. I try clawing at her hands, but it was no use. She forces me to look at her. 

“Who are you?” She hisses again. A tear rolls down my cheeks. I would wipe it off, but my hand is wrapped around hers. I painfully smile again. 

“Her secret lover,” I choke out. I don’t have to keep it in anymore. The weight lifts off my shoulders. I had always wished the reveal was going to be for something better, nicer, and more beautiful. Yet we are here in the cold night air as I gasp for air. I take a peek at Caitlyn to see her face scrunch in guilt. The woman let go of me. I suck in a deep breath while sliding down to the ground. I grip my throat and tug the collar of my jacket away. I feel too suffocated by everything. 

I collect myself as much as I can before standing up again. I try to reach out and touch Caitlyn, but I pause and hesitate. My hands are shaking. I quickly bring it back to my chest to stop it from shaking so much. I lick my lips and look at her with pleading eyes. 

“I came to look for you,” I explain. 

“Why?” 

Why? 

“You were gone for more than a year! I was left wondering if you got hurt! I got worried,” I cry out. Caitlyn shifts her footing uncomfortably. She avoids my eyes by looking around. 

“Caitlyn…why are you being like this?” My voice cracks. The way she is treating me hurts so much. I don’t feel valued or special. As if… I’m just a nobody, just like how everyone else viewed me. I thought I was different to her. 

“Please talk to me!” I beg. A tear escaped from my eyes as I wept. I clench my chest to hold myself. She breathes heavily while her eyes dart around. She looks worried and guilty. 

“Was it because of her?” I direct it towards the woman, who scuffs in response. Caitlyn doesn’t reply. I take a step towards the woman, not understanding my actions. She clenches her jaw and rotates her wrist to get ready. Her eyes glisten against the street lights. Possession and challenge are evident on her face. I can tell she wants to fight me for Caitlyn. 

I am not backing down. I’ve trained hard for this. 

She swings her fist at me, but I dodge it. I launch my body to collapse her, but she wraps her arm around my waist. She elbows my back hard til I let go. She swings again and knocks the left side of my cheek. I stumble back and yelp in pain. I bring my hand up to cup my throbbing cheek. She is so quick and strong. With just one punch it sent me backward. I glare at her nervously. 

“Giving up so easily?” The woman laughs. I spit blood out my mouth and stand up again. She flickers her fingers to motion me forward. I swing my fist and she dodges, allowing her a clear shot at my stomach. I grunt and stumble back again. I gained my balance and I ran to her again, swinging recklessly. She punches my face near my nose. Pain shoots down my spine. I fall down and immediately grip my nose. Blood flows out and onto my hands. My chest moves up and down fast. I want to cry, but I choke it back when I look at Caitlyn. She stands with a worried look. She looks at me and the woman, pondering who she should care for more.

I need to prove I can be better. I need to show her I can protect her. I stumble to my feet, wiping my bloody nose with the back of my hand. 

The woman launches and lands a few punches on my face and stomach. I am gasping for air as I try to keep up. I try to swing to at least land one hit, but she easily dodges. Caitlyn watches me get beat up over and over. She looks away, clenching her eyes shut.

I failed her. 

I collapse onto the ground, choking out blood. Wheezing for air painfully. I knew I looked pitiful. Bruised, bloody, and crying. The woman looked untouched. I just embarrassed myself in front of Caitlyn. I try to get myself back up, but the pain pierces throughout my body. I stumble and fall again. I end up kneeling, my hands weak by my side. The woman tries to come to me again, but Caitlyn stops her by shoving her back. She begs her to stop hitting me. 

No, it shouldn’t have been this way. I needed to win to get her back. She can’t be the one begging for mercy. I had to be the winner. I can… 

I look down and watch my warm blood drip down onto the ground. Realization settles in my stubborn mind. 

I can’t protect her with these weak skills. I lost. 

Caitlyn's eyes shift and darken. She grips her fist and glares at me. She is angry that I am trying so hard to win her. That I allow myself to get beat up so badly knowing I can’t win- a fool so in love with her. I look up through my puffy and bloody eyes. I smile, feeling my lips crack open. 

“I’m sorry,” I wept. She forces herself to look away as tears roll down her face. Words continue to pour out from my lips. 

“I’m sorry I am not strong enough.

I’m sorry if… I ever embarrassed you.

I understand why you wanted us to be a secret… why you left and found someone who can protect you. 

I tried so hard to prove myself, but what’s the point anymore… I just simply can’t. 

People are right about me. They always were… and deep inside you knew it.” 

Tears continually roll down my cheeks. I could no longer fake a smile anymore. How can I put on a facade when I am evidently broken and weak? I bring my hands to my heart. An attempt to shield and comfort myself. My body shakes as I cry. I can’t blame her for hurting me. My understanding and naive heart is a curse made to ruin me. I loved too much and recklessly. It’s my fault.

Caitlyn brings a hand up to her mouth to silence her cries. She shakes her head. Millions of emotions crash in her mind, but she can't speak it out. It’s too late. She can not undo the mistakes she has made. 

The damage had already been made the moment she laid eyes on you. 

[beckyninja]

Duty

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Nothing much this time, just angst

Description: As further opposition to the alliance between their peoples is revealed, Guilliman's betrothed finally opens up about her past.

Whew! With all the holiday craziness, I didn't think I'd get this posted today. Anyway, I hope you guys don't mind some lore. This is a sequel to Worthy, and a continuation of my Guilliman/Reader story. You can find the other stories in this series on my Masterlist.

In the all but empty Communications Center, Guilliman stared at the holographic image of Captain Takahashi. His Admechs and the Captain’s technicians had finally managed to cobble together an interphase between the two ships’ communications systems. Still, the Captain’s image flickered and lagged as she spoke.

“...have rooted out two more conspirators, Lord Guilliman. A pair of sanitation specialists. They attempted to take control of my ship’s steering mechanism.”

Guilliman clenched his gauntleted fist. “That makes seven attempts to date.”

“All of which we have discovered and stopped.”

“To your credit, Captain.”

The woman nodded curtly. “All the same, I agree it remains too dangerous to allow the Lady Heir to return on a permanent basis. Though, she will still need to send the first message to our homeworld once we are in range.”

“In two standard days.”

“Yes.”

Guilliman shook his head in wonder. Even in the time of the Great Crusade, such long range communication, without the aid of Astropaths, was more fantasy than reality. He added it to his mental list of technologies to acquire once the treaty was formalized.

“You will be sending the conspirators over for interrogation.”

The Captain’s eyes turned icy. “I will. Though I expect it will be more of the same.”

Guilliman scowled. During each interrogation, an implant of some kind had activated a small electromagnetic pulse within the prisoners’ brains, eradicating all higher functions. Only the first, the former Lord O’Rourke, had managed to give them any information before his unexpected lobotomy.

“Captain, you promised to clarify a few details from the first interrogation when last we spoke.”

For the first time, Captain Takahashi looked uneasy. Her eyes flickered behind Guilliman.

He understood. “Sicarius, await me outside. And see that none enter.”

He heard Cato’s teeth grinding as he obeyed.

“Forgive my hesitance, Lord Guilliman.” The Captain frowned. “But what I am about to reveal would no doubt be considered treasonous by my superiors.”

“I am grateful for your trust, Captain.”

Her frown softened. “I have come to believe we both have the Lady Heir’s best interests at heart.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “You told me how O’Rourke mentioned his orders came from a ‘prince’, someone he believed to be the true heir to our world.”

Guilliman nodded. He had long suspected your home to be less peaceful than you implied. Your obvious discomfort whenever the topic arose, the way you dodged the subject with the skill of an Aeldari warrior, and, of course, the continued sabotage attempts by your entourage did little to persuade him otherwise.

His logical mind knew the value of this alliance and the technology it would bring to the Imperium. But, in his deepest soul, none of that mattered. Someone was trying to take you from him. You. 

Only centuries of practice hid his churning rage.

The Captain continued. “As you know, our world is led by the Matriarch. She had three children, all who have since died. My Lady is the only child of her eldest and, under our laws, the Heir. But she has two cousins, the two princes.”

Guilliman’s lips twisted sardonically. He’d dealt with enough Imperial nobility to be more than aware of the twists and turns of dynastic politics. Part of him felt saddened at the thought that you came from a family afflicted with such foolishness.

And yet, he bit back a bitter laugh, was my own “family” so different?

“Her Grace has made no secret of her preference for my Lady’s eldest cousin. He is a charismatic young man, currently riding high on the glory of military success.” The Captain paused, looked uncertain, then continued. “In my opinion, Lord Guilliman, the Matriarch purposely isolated my Lady so she could not compete with her cousin’s popularity.” 

A shrewd move. Guilliman had to admit. 

No one who had ever met you and experienced your thoughtfulness and compassion could doubt your potential for popularity with the masses. How quickly you’d won the adoration of his own serfs proved that. Not to mention the progress you’d made among the Ultramarines.

“You think he is the ‘prince’ who gave O’Rourke his orders.”

The Captain frowned. “Possibly. The other option is the younger cousin. He’s rumored to be quite intelligent, but the Matriarch destined him for holy orders. He’s been sequestered in one of our scholastic monasteries since he came of age.”

Guilliman narrowed his eyes. “If dealing with my own Ecclesiarchy has taught me anything, it is that the lust for power can infect even the holiest-seeming priest.”

“Indeed.”

Guilliman stared through the Captain’s image, mind working. Too many variables. Not enough data.

“What do you believe, Captain?”

The Captain looked him in the eye. “Whoever gave the orders is irrelevant. I believe this mission was supposed to fail. All of us, myself, my crew, and the Lady Heir were supposed to die at Imperial hands.”

Yet again, Guilliman found himself impressed by this tiny baseline woman’s strength of will. “Thus removing the only obstacle to a prince’s rise to power, and ensuring your world’s continued isolation.”

“Yes.” The Captain’s lips lifted into a slight smile. “But no one back home foresaw this particular turn of events.”

Guilliman huffed a laugh. “Nor did anyone here.” His mirth was short-lived. “Once my betrothed sends her message, however, the game changes.”

“And all Void will break loose. She needs to be made aware.”

Therein lay the crux of the problem. How much did he tell you? How much did you already suspect?

“I agree.”

The Captain must have seen something in his face. “You said once that she’s stronger than she looks, Lord Guilliman. I assure you, it’s true.”

Strong in some ways, yes. But so, so fragile in others.

***

“Fascinating, Brother Tarchus. Remind me which section of the Codex that is again?” You smiled up at the Ultramarine, stylus and dataslate in hand.

“Certainly, my Lady. Chapter 647, Section F, Subsection B-14, Paragraph 54….” 

You scribbled frantically. “Ah, yes. Thank you. I have it now.” I think. “And why would you say this is your favorite passage?”

The giant warrior actually looked excited. “The minutiae of supply lines, especially to besieged worlds, is an excellent example of the importance of efficiency and practicality in uncertain circumstances.”

There. Something you could grasp. “The creation of order in the midst of anarchy?”

“Precisely.” You swore the Ultramarine almost smiled.

“In times of uncertainty, the order brought by the Ultramarines must be a great comfort to Imperial citizens.”

Tarchus cocked his head to one side. “I suppose that is one of the outcomes.”

“A beneficial one, surely.” You continued. “A fearful population is vulnerable to manipulation, whereas a population confident in its protectors is steadfast and resilient.”

“I had not considered.”

“Something to think about, yes?”

The Ultramarine looked thoughtful. “Perhaps.”

“Well, I should not keep Lord Guilliman waiting. Thank you for taking the time to explain more of the Codex Astartes to me, Brother Tarchus. It was kind of you.”

He nodded. “I found the conversation stimulating, my Lady.”

“I should like to continue in the future, if we may.”

“I…am amenable to that suggestion.”

You gave him a final nod, smiled again, and stepped past him into Guilliman’s chambers. Once through, you couldn’t hold back a laugh of triumph. 

Your betrothed looked up at you from his place behind his desk. “And what has you so giddy this evening, my love?”

He stretched out a hand, and you hurried to his side. “I managed to engage Brother Tarchus in conversation just now!”

“Indeed? It was my understanding he was being particularly stubborn.”

“Ah, but I believe I’ve found the key to an Ultramarine’s hearts.” You smiled slyly up at him.

He chuckled. “Enlighten me.”

“I simply get them talking about the Codex Astartes. It seems to be their favorite topic.”

“Believe me, I am aware.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and gave a dramatic shake of his head. “You have swept all before you, my Lady. Are none of my sons safe from your wiles?”

You rolled your eyes. “You know at least one is.”

“Cato can be… difficult.”

To put it mildly. You pursed your lips.

Guilliman ran a finger along your jawline. “Do not fret. You cannot help but be beloved by all in time.”

You felt heat rush to your face. “What…what happened to your ‘no touching’ rule?”

A flash of mischief in his blue eyes was the only warning you received before you found yourself hoisted up and deposited in his lap. You gasped and caught yourself with outstretched hands against his massive chest.

“Roboute!”

An arm of steel wrapped about your shoulders, pinning you against him. “I thought depriving myself entirely of your touch would cool my ardor. Instead, it seemed to have the opposite effect.”

His head lowered, lips just shy of your own, as his voice dropped to the rumbling growl you loved. “Instead, I have decided to allow myself a few…small…indulgences….”

You melted into his arms when he kissed you, slowly and deeply.

An eternity, and yet not nearly long enough, later, he pulled away and smiled down at you. You rested your head against his chest and closed your eyes. 

This. If I could just have this, forever, I would be satisfied.

“My love, we need to talk.”

“Mmm?” 

The double beat of his hearts soothed you. You realized you could easily fall asleep like this, cradled in his arms, safe.

“It is time you told me more of your family.”

Your eyes snapped wide. “What?”

No. No no no. I’m not ready!

His arm tightened slightly around you, as if he feared you’d bolt. You considered doing exactly that.

“Captain Takahashi contacted me this morning.” Guilliman’s voice was kind, but firm. “There was another sabotage attempt.”

You jerked upright. “Was anyone hurt?”

“No. The Captain’s men-at-arms are skilled. But the fact remains,” he brought his other hand to your chin, holding it in place, “they were following orders from a prince of your house.”

Two faces appeared unbidden in your mind. One, fierce and angular, baring its teeth in a wide grin. The other, rounded and pale, eyes sullen. 

“Victor and Conrad….” You didn’t realize you’d spoken the names aloud until Guilliman reacted.

“Your cousins.”

You couldn’t turn your head away, but you dropped your eyes from his piercing gaze. “Yes. My cousins.”

You didn’t want to think about them. You didn’t want to think about…her. In desperation, you tried a new tactic. Slowly, you moved your hands up Guilliman’s chest, caressing the hard muscle beneath his tunic. 

“Can’t we talk about this later?” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, wetting your lips with your tongue.

His breath stuttered, his eyes going dark and hungry.

You continued exploring his chest with your fingers, feeling rather proud of yourself… until he released your chin and captured both wrists in an iron grip.

“A good attempt.” One side of his mouth tilted upward. “But I will not be distracted.”

Struggling only emphasized your utter helplessness. “Roboute, please.”

“What are you so afraid of, my love?”

Something snapped inside. You snarled at the man you loved.

“I’m afraid of her! My grandmother, the Matriarch, the heartless bitch.” A hysterical laugh burst through your lips. “You think one of my cousins is behind all this? Whoever the saboteurs assumed their orders came from, I guarantee she is the one pulling the strings. She wants me dead.”

You stopped, panting. Guilliman stared down at you. It frightened you how little emotion you saw behind his regal mask.

“Why?”

Why indeed? Why stop now? Let’s air all the family’s dirty laundry.

“She hated my mother first. My mother, her eldest, her legacy. My mother, who threw everything away to sail the stars. My mother, who returned years later, pregnant with an unknown man’s child.” 

You couldn’t have stopped even if you wanted to. The words poured forth like blood from a wound.

“Grandmother banished my mother to an isolated Abbey in the highlands. I was born there, among the Holy Sisters.” You smiled at the memory of happier days. “Mother became their huntress, bringing in game for the larders. During her absences, I learned alongside the novitiates. History, theology, but also botany and bioengineering. I spent hours in their gardens and greenhouses. The Sisters are famed for engineering new forms of plantlife, medicines and textiles as well as food.”

You didn’t see Guilliman anymore. You saw the kindly, wizened Mother Superior, cradling a new strain of vitamin-infused apple in her weathered hands. You saw rows of pungent medicinal herbs swaying in the greenhouses. You saw Mother, laughing, hands outstretched to welcome you into her arms.

“When I was twelve, Mother died on a hunt. I grieved. But I wasn’t alone. The Sisters were my family.” You felt tears coming as you dropped your voice to a whisper. “Then, one night….”

Screams. You jerked awake in your room amongst the other novitiates, all of you bleary-eyed and confused. Light poured through the windows. You heard the hard tramp of boots. The door burst open and Sister Helena fell into the room, shoved from behind. 

“Which one is she?” A harsh voice boomed. 

The man it belonged to stood in the doorway, covered head to toe in tactical armor, brandishing a pistol.

He shouted your name. Sister Helena crouched on the floor, but said nothing. The man snarled and aimed his weapon at her.

“Wait!” You screamed, scrambling out of bed. “It’s me! I’m the one you’re looking for!”

You had no idea why they wanted you. But you weren’t going to let them hurt your family.

The rest of the night was a blur of grasping hands, roaring engines, and bitter cold. They hadn’t let you change out of your nightdress. They hadn’t let you say goodbye.

“The soldiers took me to the Matriarch, my grandmother, who said a plague that had devastated our cities the year prior had killed my two uncles. I was now the heir. Lessons followed. Endless lessons as she tried to force me into the model princess. At first, I resisted. But the consequences….” You shuddered. “I learned to keep quiet. I learned to obey. I learned to fear.”

You felt Guilliman’s hand on your lower back, rubbing circles. Slowly, your surroundings came back into focus.

“Breathe, my love.” His deep voice dispelled the haze of terror. “Just breathe.”

You buried your face in his chest, but words kept coming. “She didn’t want me. Not really. In time, I realized she was using me as a threat to my eldest cousin, Victor. By naming me heir, but promising the position to him if he behaved, she kept him on a tight leash. I was safe for a time. But if I hadn’t proposed this diplomatic mission, my death would have come at her hands sooner or later.”

“You must have known this envoy might have gotten you killed, with or without your family’s interference.” 

“I knew.” You wondered if you sounded as desperate as you felt. “But it was a chance. A way out! I couldn’t stay in that palace anymore, with her and her spies always watching.” 

Another hysterical laugh. “You know Grandmother once refused me meals for an entire week in a fit of rage? I would have starved to death if not for the kindness of the servants. I-I just…I had to…oh, Light help me.”

You wept, clinging to Guilliman, the only solid point in the maelstrom tearing through you. “Don’t let me go, Roboute. Please. Don’t let me go.”

His huge arms tightened further around you. “Never.”

***

Guilliman held you as you sobbed, held you close, and seethed. 

I could raze her planet. I could smother it in steel, snuffing out the lives of everyone who ever hurt her. 

He wouldn’t, though. The cost in innocents would be too high. You’d never forgive him. But still….

“Damn the alliance.” He growled. “Damn the treaty. Let your Matriarch think you dead. Let her think the barbarians of the Imperium slaughtered your entire entourage.”

Your sobs quieted and you looked up at him with wide eyes.

He cupped your face in his palm. “Marry me, return with me to Ultramar, and let me care for you. You need never set foot upon your homeworld again.”

“It would be so easy,” you murmured, closing your eyes, “to just say yes. To stay safely in your shadow and forget everything else.”

“Then say yes.”

A long moment passed in silence. He heard the muted voices outside his office, the omnipresent hum of the great ship, and your beating heart. Then, you opened your reddened eyes.

“I can’t, Roboute.” You seemed calmer now. “I may have originated this plan as an escape from my home, but all the other reasons I gave, I believe in them too. My people need the rest of humanity, and the rest of humanity needs us.”

A mixture of disappointment and sheer awe filled him. How, in the vastness and cruelty of the universe, had he found a woman so perfectly matched to himself?

“I used to dream of running away.” He muttered, only half aware he spoke aloud. “I dreamed of cutting free of the Imperium, of becoming a farmer. An honest, simple life.”

“It sounds lovely.” You smiled sadly. “But we can’t cast duty aside so easily, you and I. We care too much. All we can hope for,” you placed your hand against his cheek, mirroring him, “is to find someone to share that duty with us. Someone to stand beside us. Someone to love.”

“I love you.” Throne, my hearts feel about to burst with it.

“And I you.”

He kissed you again. Soft and gentle and so, so sweet. When he pulled himself away, you tucked yourself back against his chest.

“Forgive me for hiding all this from you, Roboute. I was afraid. I’ve been afraid for so long.”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

“When we reach my homeworld, my family will stand against us.”

Ferocity welled within him. Lifting you in his arms, he carried you to the great viewport and looked out upon the passing stars. Logically, he knew the star your world circled was not among them. 

Still, he issued a challenge.“I am Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium, Primarch.” He held you close. “Let them try.”

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[hekatekun]

I would've made totokos dub voice flo milli

[possibly-eli]

hey guys i think im out of the trauma spiral my ex-quadmate put me in <- he is, in fact, not out of the trauma spiral his ex-quadmate put him in

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[saturngas]

hickeys on display

[🪐] satoru wears proudly the hickeys you left on him last night

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: established relationship; only one suggestive paragraph; crack fic? again me trying to be funny; nanami mentioned!; slight possessive traits;

word count: 1k

..

nanami sometimes pitied you. you were a good human being, a nice woman, a devoted and strong sorcerer. but why did the world reward you with this menace that calls itself satoru?

the moment his eyes landed on the tall sorcerer walking in the bakery shop, nanami swore he wanted to throw himself off the window.

satoru had convinced him to go out to his favorite bakery shop to spend time while his beautiful wife returned from the mission. the blonde man actually didn't have any other plans for the day, so he could bare a couple of hours with the strongest.

but not like this.

Japanese culture revolved in humbleness and respect towards others. satoru was anything but that. he had gained multiple stares since he landed on the bakery, all eyes focused on the angry marks on his attractive neck and collarbones.

"what happened to you? were you attacked on your way here?" nanami asked sarcastically as satoru sat down in front of him.

"what do you mean, nanamin?" he faigned ignorance as he adjusted himself on his sit, his large hands fidgeting with the menu. nanami sent him a dead stare, not believing his cluelessness. "oh this?" he pointed to his exposed skin. "oh it's just that I miss my wife so much. I also want anyone to know im so taken."

Nanami couldn't believe his ears. he wanted to choke the hell out of the sorcerer for being so shameless.

"your ring is sufficient."

satoru eyed the silver band adorning his ring finger, the lovely reminder of your wedding playing on his head. "well, yeah I guess... but people dont usually look at other's people hands first."

the curious and judgmental stares from the strangers in the store were making nanami a bit uncomfortable. maybe he should just have his baguette as a take out.

"nanamin, have you ordered yet? I think ill have the strawberry cheesecake and a vanilla milkshak— what are you doing?"

in front of him was nanami holding up his phone, hands ready to take a picture of satoru as an evidence to you and a reminder to him to never go out with him again.

"im sending your wife a picture of you. I hope she doesn't approve this and takes you home away from people." as soon as satoru heard the mention of his wife, he stood taller in his sit, puffing out his hard chest, his exposed bruised neck more on display as a boyish grin struck his face.

"haha, okie~" a fit of giggles left his lips that made nanami exhale the hardest he had that evening. "please tell her I miss her and that I love her with all my heart."

come get your husband. he has no shame.

your phone buzzed in your pocket as a final puff left the remaining of the curses you just have exorcized. you checked the message sent by a good friend of yours, nanami. you couldn't help but laugh.

since you were called for a quick mission not too far from tokyo, poor satoru was left alone without his pretty wife. he insisted on going with you, however you reminded him of the house chores he had been avoiding the past weeks.

your husband had a habit of sending you recurrent messages whenever you were away. it could be him on a mission overseas sending you pictures of himself in every angle just to crack a smile on your face. or it could be him spamming you on texting him back if you left him on read by accident.

right now, it had been around thirty minutes since satoru had informed you he had finished his duties, sending you visual proof—he would often get away with it—and a dozens of messages declaring he missed you and was miserable without you, so he let you know he would be visiting nanami, probably because there wasn't anyone within his range he could bother.

what you didn't expect was the photo attached to nanami´s previous message.

satoru was sitting in a booth—probably in some bakery shop—with one of the biggest grins you had seen on his angelic face. his baby blue eyes were covered by his rectangular glasses and his white hair was a bit messy.

but what immediately caught your attention wasn't his toothy grin or his perfect jawline—it was the shameless exposure of his bare neck, where purple and red marks decorated the pale skin of his collarbones, neck, and trapezius.

the night before was a night. satoru made you feel so full that your eyes were at one point covered in tears of pleasure, your jaw as tight as ever as you took all of him so well. the carnal heat inside you was boiling and daring to explote, so you released it with snug bites on satoru's skin, anywhere within your range, making him groan and hiss in painful arousal. there were moments where you would almost chew on the rosy skin to suppress the loud moans. satoru took good care of you. but now?

your husband deliberately decided to wear that low collar sweatshirt you loved so much. but not right now! how was he so uncaring about showing the entire world your marital business?

a sighed left your lips as you replied to nanami with an "im coming," before departing your way to the place, already having the directions since satoru left his location on with you all the time.

"please dont ever do this, toru."

"then dont give me these hickeys! and dont leave me alone too much! I need to remind myself you still exist, baby."

"I was done with my mission in like two hours!"

"oh wow, you are getting stronger pookie bear."

taglist: @snwvie @fanficsforkicks

hello guysss, im working on other works because I have like so many ideas but it's kinda hard to write them all the way I want to. im also working on pt 2 of some works some of y'all have suggested. bare with me alr :]

[bioblsm]

WHAT DOES THEIR CAMERA ROLL LOOK LIKE?

❀ ꒰warnings꒱. boothill backstory spoilers, not proofread ಥ_ಥ

𖧷 characters. jing yuan, blade, dr ratio, ruan mei, aventurine, sunday, boothill

☆彡 notes. aventurine 🤝 boothill — being some of the most gay ass mfs i’ve seen in a hyv game (apart from bronya and seele) seriously their flamboyance still gives me whiplash…anyways this has been on my mind for months now but i’ve never gotten around to writing it!!! >_<

JING YUAN 𐚁 景元

[◉"] 2,304 photos, 83 videos

⌖ if you scroll really fast down or up his gallery, all you’ll actually manage to see is splotches of pink, blonde and silver

⌖ everything ranges from cute candid shots of yanqing (he takes multiple if yanqing’s fallen asleep while on duty), to sneaky pictures of fu xuan as she’s working where he’s in the foreground doing peace signs — the final picture of course being her looking at the camera lense directly to glare up at him

⌖ reaching weekends when he’s slightly a little more free or allows himself a small break to stroll around town, his camera roll is either filled with pictures of food he’s eaten or swords that yanqing may or not definitely ask about that he’s now more inclined to buy as he’s seen them in person (he’s a boy dad who loves spoiling his child, alright?)

⌖ the large majority of his photos unfortunately are work related, only really the recent ones being deleted from his gallery to clear up some space

⌖ however, while his photos are preoccupied with either his two kids or random scrolls with messy and rushed handwriting, each video is of you; jing yuan thinks a picture would belittle your beauty too much.

⌖ he needs something a little more real, a little more active and animated to help him quell the chirping loneliness that creeps up on his heart whenever you’re away from him for a prolonged period of time; if he’s feeling particularly mischievous he might sneak a quick but blurry picture of himself to send to you ♡

BLADE 𐚁 刃

[◉"] 9 photos, 2 videos

⌖shit is BARREN. literally a complete EMPTY VOID. if you snatched his phone somehow you’d assume he just got it despite him not having changed it ever since he received one

⌖ perhaps on the occasion you’ll find a cameo picture from one of the stellaron hunters as his phone is left unoccupied and someone decided to blast his entire gallery with their face (silverwolf specifically just hacks into his phone to keep putting random screenshots he’s never taken in his gallery to make him believe he’s taken them)

⌖ maybe sometimes he’ll screenshot different ways to die or health clinic locations he can avoid when he’s fortunately bleeding out but otherwise? nothing.

⌖ if you’re a massive yapper and love sending him pictures, he won’t go out of his way to download them for later usage (whatever that may be…) but he also won’t go out of his way to delete it if it’s accidentally automatically downloaded on his phone — maybe elios intended for it to be there?

⌖ it’s quite nice having a reminder of his significant other where he doesn’t have to actively listen to their voice… that’s a little exaggerative; but he loves just mapping out the features in your face, it helps him sleep just the slightest bit better with no ailment if he’s able to trace your features like a constellation on his blank, dark wall

DR RATIO 𐚁 真理医生

[◉"] 1000 photos, 100 videos

⌖ call it a form of ocd, but he NEEDS to have a decent ratio (i didn’t even mean for this to be a pun i’m so sorry) of his photos to videos; he doesn’t care if it’s 10:1, 2:1 1:5, he needs something that’s at least somewhat pleasing to the eyes

⌖ ratio immediately deleted anything he doesn’t need or thinks he won’t find use in for at the very least the month (this includes every single cameo shot aventurine or you have taken of yourselves on his phone without his permission, which by the way, he didn’t hesitate to scold you two for)

⌖ maybe if he’s feeling particularly loving (when is he ever?) he’ll allow ONE picture to stay.

⌖ his camera roll is purely filled with test results, written exams, student emails he needs to read over, things concerning the guild or the ipc and secret purchases of ducks he’s made (he’s not ashamed, he just doesn’t want you to know he’s buying ducks that are bigger in size every time so he can fill your shared bathroom)

⌖ realistically, maintaining such a perfect ratio of photos:videos is rather impossible unless you’ve got impeccable timing with things you save and delete so, in order to bypass this, ratio made a photo library to help serve as a base number of sorts

⌖ that photo library is of course a secret and locked haven filled with pictures and videos of you, none of which you can even recall taking. all of them hold at least some sort of significance to the both of you, but the ones that dr ratio loves the most is the ones that are just natural

⌖ the ones that show you being yourself, whether it’s where you’re cuddled up near a blanket reading something with a leg hiked up over the sheets or where you’re sleeping with your mouth wide open because you’re sick and unable to breathe through your nose properly; he loves it all

RUAN MEI 𐚁 阮•梅

[◉"] 505 photos, 28 videos

⌖ she tries to keep it as neat as possible; that means no sneaky pics taken of her by you, accidental blurry shots she’s taken (god forbid, those ones are immediately scrapped and done anew especially if related to an experiment of hers) thought that doesn’t mean she clears it in the regular

⌖ ruan mei actively saves any photo you send her, sometimes she’ll even screenshot the chat itself if she finds herself clutching at her heart as she swoons over a few lines of flirting that apparently you couldn’t hold yourself back from due to how much you missed her

⌖ she’s not someone really sentimental so despite having photos of her little cake-cat hybrids, she rarely ever rechecks them unless the trailblazer sent another report on their status to match

⌖ honestly her memory is impeccable to the point she doesn’t even need screenshot reminders of things like dates and experiments saved (would it even be called machine reductionist to call her a walking computer model at this point?) therefore, anything she saves that’s work or science related probably has more intricacies that she can account for

⌖ her gallery is a little boring otherwise. for someone of her morally grey standards you’d expect at least something worth mentioning, maybe even something dumb like a secret recipe she uses to make the sweetest (anti-truth serum…) pastries but no— nothing.

yet the reason for that is very blatant; not even her beloved has the privilege to witness her mendacity.

AVENTURINE 𐚁 砂金

[◉"] 8,793 photos, 777 videos

⌖ it’s a complete and utter mess to say the very least; dr ratio refuses to so much as glance at it whenever he’s near and topaz just gets an ick:

“how do you even manage to find anything?”

“luck.”

⌖ his photos range from absurd, to sweet to egotistical. things that remind him of you such as random rocks he finds, alcoholic beverages that have the same colour scheme of an outfit you wore the night before, an animal he saw that he swears if reincarnation was real would so be you

⌖ he has a specific library for just solely screenshots based off your chats, most of them including a significant amount of “i love yous” and goodbyes that promised a little something more when you met up next; everything that aventurine utterly cherished and craved

⌖ …and then the rest was either him showing the background of him photobombing others, pictures he took to send to you (or one of the ipc members to piss them off, sometimes even the trailblazer for a cheeky laugh) and on the even more popular occasion, all his extraordinary wins whether it be in poker, pool or uno

⌖ compared to his photos, his videos are slightly more interesting. a near 50/50 split that ranged between him telling dumbass jokes to piss off his coworkers, recordings of the back of dr ratio’s and or topaz’s head just for the future laughs (he likes the reminder that he does actually have friends and they aren’t just deliberate hallucinations born of loneliness).

⌖ but of course, all his “favourited” videos involve you somehow. sometimes it’s just a slip of your name while he’s sneakily recording a meeting, him telling you he misses you or vice versa, other times it’s just when he feels like he has a home. you snuggled up on his chest, hands intertwined together as your breathing nearly synchronises with him…moments where he feels as though he could forget the trademark imprinted onto his neck.

SUNDAY 𐚁 星期日

[◉"] 777 photos, 111 videos

⌖ now as much as i want to say “oh it’s all you! he has a special folder for you <3” i unfortunately can’t.

⌖ it’s almost most definitely videos of robin’s concerts, solo shows, videos he stolen off of audience members with good seats when he wasn’t available to personally hide in the crowd…a lot of the photos are also the same way; robin’s promotional pictures, screenshots from her recent advertisements and negative hate comments or news stories that he’s going to personally deal with later

⌖ that doesn’t mean he values or priorities you over his sister, absolutely not. you two are the only people in his life who he would unironically take down the skies and survive utter torment for if it meant your voices were the last things he heard as bellowing winds sliced past his eardrums to tune the world out in order to hear his own final breath

⌖ he tries his best not to be sentimental or nostalgic, as he’s been told as he grew up into the bright and maybe just slightly tragic and guilt-infested man he is today, those things in his eyes are an innate weakness of humanity. clinging onto something thats not tangible anymore.

⌖ but he can’t help but hold on to every video you send him. every picture of you smiling, laughing, every text of you saying i love yous, quoting love songs to him or showing him pictures where you jokingly said “that’s us” (did he tilt his head a few times when you kept sending animals to him with that particular correspondent message? perhaps, but it never made him blind to the intentions).

BOOTHILL 𐚁 波提欧

[◉"] 12,113 photos, 191 videos

⌖ he truly doesn’t gaf (give a fork) about how messy it is, all the things that are genuinely important are already locked and loaded into his noggin’, there’s no point in being frugal with the space he’s been given on a little cellular device

⌖ you wouldn’t believe it, but he rarely uses it unless it’s for emergencies. there’s plenty of trouble that comes around when you’re a galaxy ranger, which means having a constant tracking device on you like a phone that you update daily is a stupidly bad idea; which is precisely why his photo gallery is a mess

⌖ he quite literally can’t go in and clear it out otherwise it risks giving out sensitive information.

⌖ not applicable to you, that is. in boothill’s eyes, you’re an “emergency”. if you’ve texted him, it’s obvious you want his attention, which potentially means you could be in danger and he has to rush to the rescue like the flamboyant cowboy he is (no he absolutely knows you don’t need help, but there’s always that nagging “what if” factor, you know?)

⌖ he inwardly blesses whoever invented screenshotting because it would be an understatement to say that little as half of his gallery is littered with you. he’s just a bit of a boomer when it comes to technology like this, despite being a whole walking charging port himself ehem, so a lot of the pictures he has saved of you that you sent over whenever he cutely pleaded;

“missing ya, send me a lil’ somethin’ wont you?”

unfortunately are uncropped and framed with the outline of whatever messaging app you’re on.

⌖ if he lets you scroll up far back enough, maybe you’ll get to see just a glimpse of how similar his adoptive daughter’s smile was to his

© BIOBLSM ✮ do not copy steal or repost

[prael]

Chemistry

Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]

Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)

"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.

"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."

"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."

She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."

"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.

She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."

"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.

She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."

You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?

"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"

You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.

"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.

She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.

"Alright. Got a pen?"

-

Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.

There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?

Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.

"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.

You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"

You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.

"Quiet on the set."

Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.

It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.

She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.

"Action."

Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.

No such luck.

You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.

Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.

"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."

She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"

You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"

The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"

"Really, you don't have to—"

"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"

"I'm fine," she tries to argue.

"You're flustered," you tease.

"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.

"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.

-

You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.

Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.

It's easy, you decide.

Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.

You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.

"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.

There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.

There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.

But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.

"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.

She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.

A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.

"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."

"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.

She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.

"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."

"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.

"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.

"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.

"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.

-

On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.

Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.

You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.

Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.

"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."

Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.

"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.

Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.

You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.

Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."

The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.

What's she doing?

She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.

She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.

"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"

This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.

Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"

You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.

This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.

"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.

"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.

"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.

"That was acting." She responds confidently.

The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."

Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.

Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.

Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.

Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.

"Action," the director yells.

As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.

So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.

Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.

But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.

"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.

You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.

Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.

"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.

You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.

It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.

You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.

"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.

At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.

Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.

As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.

You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.

And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.

"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.

Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.

It's just acting.

-

Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.

Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.

You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.

"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.

"Are you stupid?"

"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.

Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"

"What happened to your clothes?"

"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.

"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.

"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.

"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."

An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?

Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.

You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.

"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.

"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"

"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.

"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."

You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?

"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."

"No?" you whisper.

"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."

This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.

"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.

She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.

There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.

In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.

Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.

With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.

Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.

Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.

Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.

"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."

More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.

The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."

The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.

Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.

Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.

When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.

It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.

"Fuck, you're so hard."

Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.

When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.

"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.

It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.

You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.

"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"

A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.

Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.

The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.

Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.

"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."

Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.

Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.

-

They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.

"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.

"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.

"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.

"Yeah, you told me."

"I did?"

"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"

She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."

"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."

Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"

It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.

"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.

"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."

"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.

Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."

She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.

"That's better, right?"

She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.

"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.

"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."

She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.

"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."

"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"

You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."

"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."

Now? Really?

"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.

"Now or never."

The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.

She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.

"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."

"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."

"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."

"Like this?"

"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."

Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.

It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.

"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."

"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.

"Jenna, I'm—"

"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"

She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."

That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.

You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?

"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.

"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."

"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.

You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."

-

This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.

This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.

To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.

"About last time..."

You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.

"A little."

"Follow me."

Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.

"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."

Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."

"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."

There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.

"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.

A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.

Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"

"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"

"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."

It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.

You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.

"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.

"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.

Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.

She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.

"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.

You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.

"This might be the last time we—"

"Shut up," you interrupt.

"Last time we do this."

"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.

"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"

"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.

It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.

You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.

"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."

So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?

"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"

You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.

"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."

The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.

You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.

Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.

"So, that was..."

"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.

"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.

"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.

"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.

She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."

Now that...

That's just cruel.

[wonryllis]

☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.

i think i will love you forever, i want to.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.

shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.

𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.

mmm, love having you in my arms like this

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.

fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.

𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.

it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.

𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.

how did i manage to have someone like you?

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.         

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

 “’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”  

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

���Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

[jolalibrary]

fifteen hundred and one

frankie morales x f!reader | frankie masterlist

summary: he's your best friend. nothing would ever change that. except maybe a goodnight kiss.

warnings: just fluff. best friends who flirt to something. kissing. flirting. she calls frankie nemo. an: this is my submission for @janaispunk’s milestone celebration based on this moodboard and the prompt "goodnight kiss"! hugest and biggest congrats to you jana, my babe. you deserve all of this and more!

Laughing, hard. It’s all instinctive as one palm stretches out across his stomach, and the other arm hooks around you, tugging you close.

He tenses when your fingers brush over his threadbare tee, your head turning into him as you mirror him, giggling. Burying deep into the fabric, it seeps into his skin.

And all Frankie thinks is—

It’s easy with you.

Has been for years. Since you’d stumbled in as the friend of one of his friends girl-not-girl, sticking around longer than they did.

You'd glued to him, happily. Never minding, or caring. Somehow surprised at how simple it was going from ‘do you want a drink’ to resting your head on his shoulder, while the two of you absently listened to whatever bullshit Benny was saying.

Now, he looks forward to seeing you.

To late-night burger runs and early-morning coffee meets, quiz nights with the others and just the two of you movie trips.

At some point, between his tongue doubling in his head at the sight of you that night to now, he’s been resisting kissing you. Sometimes easy, sometimes it’s harder.

Tonight it’s the latter.

A hand clenched around his heart, squeezing. Beneath the moon's gentle gaze, the world slows, each laugh and comment infused with the spell of the silvery glow. It's intimate, almost sacred.

And it forces him to remind himself of the usual array of things that stop him from kissing the wit-induced smile right from your lips. The list he runs through to ensure he doesn't ruin you, in the same way, he'd almost destroyed his license, his job. Stopping himself from tasting the gloss you’ve smeared there, the one which makes street lamps reflect as the two of you walk back to his truck.

“—so even if I scratched your favourite vinyl, you’d still be friends with me?”

Opening the passenger side door, he smiles, gleams, fucking beams. “Yeah!”

He hears you mutter bullshit when he shuts it, fighting a laugh as he comes around the back before sliding in.

It’s not a far drive to yours. One he’s memorised, etched into him. Not just from tonight’s location, but all over town. From his to work, and your favourite spot to his. Able to drive, mainly on auto-pilot, not needing to concentrate too much, able to answer your wild, and ridiculous, array of “even if” questions. Each ranged from ‘if I burnt all your grass’ to, ‘hypothetically if you had a dog and I kicked it’. Each is smudged with the sound of the radio you've tuned, a station he won't admit he listens to when you're not even with him.

You don’t stop your questioning when he pulls onto your drive, parking side by side next to your car. The one he helped you haggle for three months ago now—if he thinks hard, he can still hear the sound of your squeal in gratitude in the furthest part of his ear.

“—what if I stole your last coffee filter?”

“I’m guessing I’m desperate for it too?”

“Yes,” you say, defiant but playfully. “Of course.”

“You’re telling me that if I stole your last coffee filter, you’d still be my friend?”

Killing the engine, he sighs. Shrugging. “Yeah.”

Unbuckling your belt, you throw a glare. “I don’t believe you. You’re more coffee than blood.”

Shaking his head, he rests against the headrest, the corner of his lips growing into his cheek. “Not a thing you could do that would make me ever want to not be your friend.”

Rolling your eyes, you hover your hand over the doorhandle. A part of him wants to ask you to wait, to not go just yet. A routine he thinks through at least three times a month when he sees you. Each time ending in the same cowardly way.

“Goodnight, Frank,” you say, in that same tone—one hard to read, forged in sadness but dressed up in joy—as you press your lips to his cheek.

He resists touching it like he always does. Mumbling the same scripted, “Night” he always does.

Not jolting when the door meets the frame, eyes pinned on you as you walk down your path—waiting for you to step on your porch, turn back and wave, fidget for your keys before unlocking the door and giving him another wave. Another pattern, another repetition.

Except tonight you stop.

You don’t even make it halfway down your path.

Blood pounds in his ears, something knotting inside of him. An urge, a fire lighting in his stomach. One he listens to. His hand shoves the door open, as the other undoes his belt, forcing himself to exit.

Frankie spots the glance in surprise at finding him coming around the front to join you. As though the idea he would is a shock, a surprise as he calls your name.

It’s slow, the way you spin on your heels. You pause, eyes narrowing, before widening, fighting a smile. A thing he can tell, can read. Even if you try to hide it in the night, shield it from the almost full moon and the stars which twinkle above.

“You think you’d be able to be my friend if I kissed you, Nemo?”

Leaning against the brick of your house, watching your eyes flick from his shoes back to his face.

“Finally ran out of cat names?”

“I’m branching out. I could go back to calling you Salem.”

Smirking, rolling his lips. “Still not a fish.”

Sighing, shifting your weight. “Didn’t answer my question.”

Wiping his hand with his face, hurrying his brain to think of something, anything, because he’s not sure if this is a joke. If you’re pushing him.

But the longer the silence thickens, the more time you stare at him, eyes growing wider and wider, he thinks that it might not be his heart that is the only one pounding. The only one beating in his ears, the pulse throbbing in his neck.

“Fran—”

“No,” he stammers, clearing his throat. “I–I’d be too busy.”

Lips sliding into your cheek, nervousness fading, fingers scratching the tip of your nose as he swears a shooting star soars in your eyes. “Doing what?”

“Kissing you fifteen hundred times.”

“Just fifteen hundred?”

Shrugging, chewing his tongue, he exhales—loud, nostrils flaring. “To start.”

Taking a step closer, a timid one. Enough to make a point, but not enough to close the gap entirely. Your knuckles brush his stomach, a blend between a stroke and a nudge.

“You’ve thought about this.”

A small part—one wrapped in vines of doubt, encased in pretending—warns him to clamp his mouth shut. To swallow the syllables and forms letters that make the sentence buzz in his mouth, along his teeth, and jaw.

Flicking his eyes from the floor to your face. “All the time, baby.”

He hears it, but he enjoys watching it more, the way you gasp. Low, airy, trying to bury it.

“Give me a goodnight kiss, Morales.”

He doesn’t think twice.

Brushing his lips against yours, soft, cautious, and tender, before it deepens. It makes his heart throb, double; it almost somersaults in his chest as your palm presses to his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair as one of his hands finds a home on your waist.

Then you’re smiling, almost laughing, right up against his mouth as he tastes the sugar on your lips. He feels the joy brushing against his mouth as your fingers knot into his hair.

And it unlocks him, allows you to consume him, to find himself free falling knowing he'll never land, fall or be hurt—just floating, as you tug him flush to you, a feeling so heavenly he almost wishes to pinch himself—

“Of course, you’re a good kisser,” you whisper, ghosting the words over his lips.

“Been thinking about it, have you?”

Snorting, nose nudging his, you press your mouth back to his, more searing, open-mouthed. “When I drive. At work. In the morning. At night.”

Each is punctuated with a kiss. The latter flows around his head, swirling in different shades and fonts as he groans, fingers sliding around the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. Making it a little rougher, more committed, feeling you cling to him, tugging him closer as he manoeuvres the two of you—flushing your back to the brick, his chest to yours.

A moan escapes you, tickling his lower lip as your thumb brushes along the back of his neck. Mouths parting, for a moment breathing the other, simply staring, gazing, ogling.

“Fourteen hundred and ninety-nine to go?”

Shaking his head, nose brushing yours, thumb stroking against your cheek. “This is a goodnight kiss—a necessity to begin the counter.”

“Oh,” you whisper, elongating it, adding a smirk to the end. “So, we have another fifteen hundred and then, we stop?”

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your perfume weaving into his soul. The sound of a car streets away travelling in the quiet of the night.

“Depends.” Tilting your head, waiting, confusion there. “You might unlock the next stage.”

Grinning against him, able to feel it as he runs his knuckles along your jaw.

“Or my lips fall off?”

Laughing, just like he did earlier. He smiles. “Or your lips fall off.”

[munsonhoneybaby]

Too Much in Common | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: After Dustin brings Eddie home for a D&D campaign, you find yourself enjoying his company more frequently than expected.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), smut, kinda automatic dubcon since they're both fried?, fingering, a lil praise, eddie’s just a lil obsessed

A/N: it hasn’t been explicitly stated yet but reader is adopted. hopefully i actually post a part two in a timely manner.

part two | finale | tmic masterlist

The rumbling of Eddie’s van ceased in the Hendersons’ driveway as he turned the key back in the ignition. He was surprised, however, when the metal thrum of a guitar continued despite his radio now being off. Opening his door, he recognized “N.I.B.” by Black Sabbath and realized it was coming from inside, making his eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

He made his way to the front door, not bothering to knock beforehand since Dustin was expecting him and the kid’s mom wasn’t home. “Since when did you get a taste in music, Henderson?” He called over the music blaring from the sound system in the living room. A door around the corner slammed open much more forcefully than necessary and the aforementioned freshman barreled out of his bedroom. 

“It’s my sister!” He shouted back. “She said I could have you guys over while Mom is gone if I didn’t bitch while she was in charge, but APPARENTLY THAT MEANS MAKING ME GO DEAF!” 

Eddie could just barely make out your muttered “oh please” as you entered from the kitchen. You turned down the volume until the sound could be considered background noise. “If anyone here is gonna go deaf, it’s me from your constant shrieking.” Distressed jeans hugged the curve of your waist perfectly and the Poison t-shirt you had on looked soft from numerous wears. He tried not to stare, but he was sure he looked like a cartoon character– bugging, heart-shaped eyes and jaw hitting the floor. He almost missed it when you acknowledged him. “Munson. I heard you were still running Hellfire. Didn’t realize you’d be coming today.”

Oh fuck. You knew him. You knew him? How did you know him? Of course, you had gone to the same school, everybody in Hawkins did, but he would remember meeting a girl like you. Would you be upset with him for not knowing who you are? God, already embarrassing himself and he hasn’t even started talk–

“Relax,” You snorted. “I was a grade under you at Hawkins and I was homeschooled my senior year. We never talked, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I’m pretty sure everybody knows about you, though.” And this is when you tell him to get out of your house and stay away from your kid brother because he’s a drug-dealing, Satan-worshipping freak. “It’s nice you’re still running the D&D club, sounds like everything else there gets worse every year.” 

Some of the tension in his muscles slipped away and he realized he’d been subtly bracing himself. “Oh–” The doorbell rang and Dustin ran to get it, welcoming in Mike and Lucas who were already amicably bickering louder than necessary. Behind them trailed the two others they had ridden with, Jeff and Gareth if you remembered correctly. They seemed a little uncomfortable holding a session in a new house, but relaxed drastically when they set eyes on Eddie. “Uh– you guys can go ahead down to the basement with the freshmeat. I’ll be down in a sec, alright?” They nodded, waving politely to you before following the boys.

When they were gone, you and Eddie locked eyes again. “Seriously, I’m glad Dusty has someone watching out for him. He takes more shit than he deserves. Just try to be a good role model, alright? If I find out you give that kid Special K or some shit, it’s fucking over for you. Got it?”

“I would never let anything bad happen to those kids when they’re with me,” He spoke earnestly. “I’m gonna look out for them. If I’m ever gonna do anything right, it’s that.”

“I believe you, Munson.” You gave him a small smile and nodded towards the basement door. “You should probably get going. They can’t start the game without their dungeon master, right?”

An embarrassed flush fought its way up his neck to his cheeks as you turned towards the hall where your bedroom was. Before you could get more than a couple of steps though, he gently grasped your wrist. “Hey uh, by the way– I just wanted you to know that I don’t really– I don’t do any hard stuff anymore. Haven’t in a while. I hardly even sell it anymore and I stopped selling to first-timers.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, don’t worry about it. I totally get it, I just wanted to let you know; for your peace of mind, I guess. You deserve to know who your baby brother’s hanging around with, I don’t want you to think I’m too bad an influence.”

“I don’t think you’re too bad, Munson. Just a healthy amount.” You gave his own wrist a small squeeze as you slipped your hand from his and finally went back to your own room. He gazed after you momentarily, even after your door had closed. If the guys were still present, they would definitely be giving him shit.

As if on cue, he heard Dustin’s muffled shout from the basement. “Eddie, hurry the hell up!”

You were sitting on the front porch swing lighting a joint when his beat-up van pulled up two nights later. “Seek & Destroy” poured from his cracked-open windows until his door opened and he set foot on your driveway once again. “He’s not here, y’know,” You called to him.

“That’s alright, I actually just needed to–” Eddie was halfway between you and his van when he caught a whiff of a particularly familiar scent. A shocked, teasing grin slowly spread across his face. “Henderson, are you smoking marijuana right now?” 

In spite of yourself, you let out a laugh, coughing around a lungful of smoke in the process. “Say it a little louder, Munson, I don’t think the deafening Metallica got the neighbors’ attention.” 

Laughing, he dropped into the space next to you on the swing. “I didn’t peg you for the smoking type.”

“Oh, you mean from the three minutes we interacted?” You squinted playfully but held the joint out to him. “Just weed, I don’t fuck with anything else personally.”

He took you up on the offer, calloused fingertips brushing your skin as he took the joint from you. Examining it for a moment, he smirked as he took a hit. “Fuckin’ with it pretty hard, apparently,” He breathed out. “You roll almost as good as I do.”

“Good, then you can roll the next one.” It passes between you as you speak, though Eddie tries to keep his turns short out of courtesy. “Which brings us back to the topic of why you’re here mooching my shit. You said you needed to do something?”

“Right, I uh- I forgot my lucky dice here the other night. I figured I’d pick ‘em up on my way home from The Hideout.” 

“Oh yeah, you’re in a band or something, right?” 

“Since middle school,” He nodded, “Just me and a few guys from school, s’called Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds metal.”

“We try to,” He chuckled.

“You like Black Sabbath and Metallica, you’d better,” You teased. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your every move as you smoked. The way your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked in a hit, how your breath hitched and your eyes fell closed as you held it in. The corners of his lips curled up in amusement watching you blow Os while conversation lulled for a moment. Offering him one last hit first, you stub out the roach on the ground and stand from your seat. “C’mon in, you can go get your dice.”

“Thanks,” He hummed, grabbing the door as soon as it was open to hold it for you. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask, heading into the kitchen as he made his way toward the basement door. “I haven’t, I was gonna make a sandwich or something. You want one?”

“That’d be great, actually, thank you.” The dice weren’t hard to find seeing as he’d left them there on purpose. So maybe it was a little weird, definitely a little desperate, but he wanted to make sure he had another opportunity to see you– get his foot in the door, so to speak– and he really hadn’t expected all this. He’d hoped you’d be the one to answer the door and he’d get to make small talk for a few minutes, point out your shared taste in music maybe, but this? Catching you alone, sharing a joint, getting invited in for something to eat? This was going better than he could’ve possibly expected.

“Find ‘em?” You called down.

“Yup!” He jogged back up the stairs, waving the small velvet bag as he joined you in the kitchen. “All good.”

“What a relief. Can’t have the dungeon master thrown off his game, that would be a travesty.” You glanced up at him mischievously as you finished making the first sandwich, scooting the plate across the counter to him.

Eddie suppressed a smile, shaking his head as he picked up the sandwich. “You just love teasin’ me with that, don’t you?” He asked before he took what was probably an unattractively large bite.

“Depends on what kind of teasing we’re talking about, Munson.” You drawled casually in return, turning to continue making your own. Meanwhile, it was an effort just for him to keep his food in his mouth without choking on it. You were flirting with him.

Weren’t you? Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d meant it the other way around– that you’d only tease him in a joking way and that you’d never want to–

“Eddie, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” You snorted. “Stop thinking so hard, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You took a big bite before grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Want one?” His answer was going to be yes, but you were grabbing him one before he had responded anyway. There was a brief and fairly comfortable silence as you cleaned up the rest of your small mess and he took a few long swigs of his water. “Wanna finish these in my room? We could smoke another joint maybe…just chill out, I don’t know…”

“Yeah, totally,” He agreed, maybe a little too eagerly.

“You’re rolling though,” You remind him over your shoulder as he begins to follow you to your bedroom.

The door creaked as you opened it, waiting for him to enter after you so you could close it. As you opened the window wide and lit a stick of incense, he took in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t like the average teenage girl’s– not that Eddie had seen very many of those– not pastel-colored, or frilly, or covered in heartthrob posters, though a few stuffed animals were perched tenderly on your bed. Actually, it was almost more like his, albeit much more organized. There were posters of horror movies and rock bands filling a decent amount of the empty space on your walls, the Dio flag pinned to the ceiling drawing his attention. “Oh, that is so sick!”

“I thought you might like some ‘a this stuff,” You laughed softly. Nodding towards the stereo in the corner, you continued, “You can put something on if you want.” He squatted down to look through your cassettes, hearing your voice move through the room as you got out your bud, tray, and paper. “Try to keep it understated though, alright? Nothing too hard or fast right now.”

“Really tryin’ to mellow out tonight, huh?” He began playfully, but looked back at you as his tone softened a little. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m alright,” You reassure. With the cassette in place, he made sure the volume was low before it began playing softly as you spoke. “I just get a little too pent up sometimes, you know? Everything’s just been kind of a lot lately, ‘s why I was already smoking when you showed up.”

“Hey, I can beat it if you want. I didn’t mean to show up outta the blue at a bad time and I definitely don’t have to stick around if you don’t want me here. I can totally get it if you want the time to yourself–”

“Please stay,” You quietly interrupted, then seemed a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t– I’d appreciate the company if you wanna stay a little while.”

Eddie gave you a comforting smile before taking a seat at your vanity to roll the joint, trying to lighten the mood. “Careful what you wish for, Henderson. I mean, you’ve got good music, good weed, made me dinner; I might be hangin’ around here more often with this kinda treatment. You’ve got me livin’ the life, babe.”

Laying down on your bed to watch him, your voice was more serious than he expected when you replied. “You’re welcome any time, you know. Mom likes when the house is busy and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dustin practically worships the ground you walk on.” His rings glinted in the lamplight as he carefully sprinkled the bud onto the paper.

“Yeah? And what’s your review, hm?” You didn’t mean to stare at the way his lips wrapped around the joint or how his tongue traced the seam of the paper to seal it.

You hummed vaguely as he finished up, gently plucking it from between his fingers when he was done. Dramatically inspecting it much longer than he had yours, you finally say, “You roll clean joints.”

He shakes his head and laughs. Your lips close around the paper, feeling the seam still damp with his spit, and you jut your chin toward his lighter on the vanity. Grabbing it without a word, he leans forward to give you a light. Your gaze catches on his rings once more before lifting to his face again. A reflection of the flame makes the brown of his eyes warmer as they lock with yours, looking up from where you still lay on the bed on your stomach. You take a long pull as he draws the lighter away again and the spell is broken.

Sitting up to breathe the smoke in deeper, you tuck your knees under you. Eddie joins you on your bed, but not before he kicks off his shoes by the bedroom door. He sits cross-legged just in front of your pillows so you shuffle around to face him. “So, how was your concert?”

He snorted, “Concert might be a bit heavy. Gig is a little more accurate. Show maybe.”

You roll your eyes, but keep your tone light and pass the joint. “You’re a loser, you know that? You knew exactly what I was talking about, answer the question.”

“It was pretty good I guess,” He shrugged and took a long hit. “I think there may have been a whole seven people this time. And one of them was even sober!”

You smiled sympathetically, “You’re just in the wrong town. Don’t worry, I’ll come watch you play. I don’t know if that’d be a good atmosphere for the boys, but I could probably force Steve, Nancy, and Robin to come.

He twisted one of his rings around his finger for a moment. “That’s really nice, sweetheart.”

With each toke you both took, the joint burned slightly shorter until it was almost completely gone. “You want the last hit?” you asked. “I finished the last one. And you rolled this one anyway.”

“No, that’s alright. It’s your weed; I’m literally a drug dealer, I’ve got plenty at home.”

“Here,” You took one last long drag and he raised an eyebrow in confusion, but he understood when you sat up further on your knees and leaned toward him. A sense of giddy excitement overtook him for a second, nerves probably heightened from the weed, but he kept his composure. When your lips slotted over his, he took a deep breath in. His hand slid into your hair to keep your head steady as you sighed the smoke into his mouth. Your lips grazed over his afterward, very obviously lingering long after it was necessary. You giggled as you slumped down into a laying position, letting your head fall back into his lap.

“Seems like someone’s a lot more relaxed now,” He cooed playfully.

“Sorry, I can get off ‘f you–” He notices how your voice is slightly rougher after smoking so much.

“Hey, no–” His hands settle warmly over your shoulders, not holding you down so much as they were encouraging you to stay put. “It’s alright, baby. You can get comfy, you’re not bothering me.”

His hands soothed up and down your arms as you settled back in. “That feels really nice.” You hummed quietly and it drew out into another giggle, “Everything feels really nice.”

He laughs a little airily himself, “It does, doesn’t it?” Your skin felt so soft and warm beneath his fingertips, tracing imaginary shapes along the bare flesh of your arms. “‘M feelin’ pretty good, myself.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander to his pretty pink lips again. They’d felt so soft against yours and you wanted more– to really feel him this time. His thumb brushes your chin, dragging down in a way that had your mouth opening slightly. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about, sweet thing?”

Blinking up at him with glassy eyes, you raised an arm to brush your fingers over his flushed cheek. “Eddie, c’n you kiss me? Please?”

“Yeah?” He moved his thumb a bit higher to tug your lower lip down a bit, face dipping down a bit closer to yours. “That what you want?” You were nodding before he even finished his sentence, making him chuckle quietly. 

He allowed his lips to graze teasingly over yours, just barely touching, before finally kissing you. His nose brushed your chin and you could feel the small smile adorning his face before your lower lip was sucked softly between his. Fingers winding into his mess of frizzy curls, you moaned quietly into his mouth and pulled him closer. After another moment though, he slowly drew back, lips separating from yours with a soft smack that made you unreasonably desperate for more.

An ache had sparked in his lower back while loading the amps into the van after their show earlier that evening, deepening as he proceeded to help load the rest of the equipment afterward. Now the deep curve he had molded it to in order to keep his mouth on yours had the pain radiating up his entire back. “As much as I’m enjoying this– and believe me, babe, I’m seriously enjoying it– my back is kinda killin’ me and hunching over you like this…” 95% of his brain was screaming at him to shut the fuck up, to ignore it and just keep kissing you breathless anyway, but the other 5% was crying out to lay down and he had to listen.

“Oh, sorry,” There was a slight pant in your voice as you released your grasp on his hair. He sat up slowly as if a movement too fast would shatter the calm in the air. You sat up yourself, watching as he eased himself back onto your pillows. “S’that better?”

“Way better,” He confirmed. “We can uh- we could keep kissing if you want.”

Openly cringing at how awkward that sounded, he opened his mouth to say something else before you interrupted him with a still-sluggish giggle. “I’d like that, Eddie.”  

“Okay,” He nodded rapidly. 

Leaning forward onto your hands and knees, you crawled into his lap. His hands instantly settled on your thighs, running up and down the material of your pajama pants. His eyes flickered wildly over your body a few times before gazing up at you in awe. You didn’t waste any time in kissing him again, which was much easier now that he wasn’t upside down. As you moaned into his mouth, his hands molded to your hips, squeezing and pulling you as tight to him as he could get you. His tongue slipped between your lips, making them open further as your hands found his hair once again. 

He didn’t mean to start moving, slowly grinding into you in an attempt to relieve the tightness in his jeans that definitely wasn’t a problem before he came over— but then you were rocking down on him yourself, clothed cunt rubbing against him in a desperate search for friction. Hips rutting up into yours, he braced a palm against your lower back. You could feel his hardness pressing into you through the layers of clothing between you. Pulling back for air, you panted into his mouth, still subtly grinding against him. “Fuck,” He grunted quietly. The soft whimper of his name that you gave him in return made his head fall back against the wall with a thud. “Got me so fuckin’ hard, sweet thing. Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” You whined back quietly. “Feels so good.” 

“Good,” He cooed. “Don’t worry, ‘m gonna keep makin’ you feel good.” Hot, open-mouthed kisses moved down your neck and you let out a moan. His fingers wormed their way past the hem of your shirt, tracing the cup of your bra. “This okay?” He mumbled against your skin. Nodding, you cupped his hand and guided it higher until he pushed your bra out of the way. The pad of his thumb brushed firmly over your nipple, making your hips jerk against his. “Mmm, so sensitive. Is that jus’ the weed or are you always like this?”

“Both,” You breathed out. “‘N you’re good at all this.”

“Aw you don’t have to butter me up, baby,” He grinned. “I’m gonna make you cum either way.” Free hand dipping past the waistband of your pajama pants, Eddie continued playfully, “But, go on. Keep tellin’ me how much I turn you on.”

“Eddie,” You pleaded, “C’mon.” 

Fingers stroking the damp fabric of your underwear, he asked, “This okay? Really want me to touch you?” Your desperate nods made his lips curl, pressing more firmly against you and drawing out a moan that you tried to stifle. “No, no, no, you gotta tell me how it feels, sweet thing. We’re all alone, you can make those pretty noises, it’s okay.”

Your head slumped into the crook of his neck, mouthing lazily at his skin. Nudging your underwear to the side, he sank his middle finger knuckle-deep into you. Grasping tightly at the worn material of his t-shirt, your breath hitched. “Mmm, fuck– yes, Eddie, thank you.”

“Look at you, usin’ your manners ‘n everything. Of course, you would. Such a good girl.” Your moans only grew louder, making his hips jerk in search of friction. “So warm and wet, bet you’d feel so good around my cock.” Lifting your head to kiss him again, your hand found the shape of his length in his jeans. He rolled his thumb over your clit in circles as his hips rocked against your palm. Mouths open against each other’s, you exchanged panting breaths and muffled moans. Confined by your pants, his hand didn’t have much room for movement, leaving your hips stuttering frustratedly. “Lemme get these off’a you, babe. Can make you feel so much better than this.”

Suddenly, his hand was curled under your thigh and you let out a small squeal as you were flipped onto your back beneath him. Your pants and underwear were yanked down your legs feverishly, Eddie parting them to slip two fingers into you this time. “Shit, Eds!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, was that too much?” Immediately, he tried to withdraw his hand, but you gripped his wrist to stop him. 

“Don’t stop, Eddie. Please, don’t stop,” You rushed.

“Alright, sweetheart, ‘m right here. Don’t worry.” Your hands laced into his hair for stability as his fingers crooked into a spot that almost made your eyes cross. Already dripping onto your bedspread, you pulled him even closer to you. Smirk spreading across his face, he said, “Oh yeah. That’s the spot, huh, baby?”

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re gonna make me come,” You whined.

“Good, want you to soak my fingers.” His hips rocked forward, clothed cock grinding into the back of your thigh. “Wanna feel you come for me.” The way his thumb rubbed so firmly against your clit had heat shooting all the way to your toes. Desperately tugging him down for another kiss, your thighs trembled as they squeezed closed around his hand. “There it is,” He murmured lowly against your lips. “Mmm, you’d feel so fuckin’ good coming around my cock, sweet thing.” The deep cadence of his voice had you shaking.

Grasping at the back of his shirt, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He held you in silence for a long moment until your head eventually dropped back against the bed. A smile slowly grew on your face as you looked up at him and you let out a small giggle, making him grin down at you. He laughed softly too as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

Eyes darting shortly to the alarm clock on your nightstand, you did a double-take when you noticed how late it was. “Son of a bitch, my mom’s gonna be home any minute!” You grabbed your discarded underwear and pajama pants from the foot of the bed as soon as Eddie had peeled himself off of you. “Uh– fuck, I’m really sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to invite you in just for this, I just didn’t realize how late it got. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, but–”

“Are you kidding?” He was already leaning against the wall by your door, slipping on his beat-up air forces. “I had a blast, babe. We should do this again sometime,” He winked teasingly.

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, feeling your body warm. When the two of you reached the front door, you rubbed your arm and met his eyes only a bit awkwardly. “I’m sorry again about not…returning the favor.”

He chuckled, giving you a small smirk. “Don’t worry about me, sweet thing. After tonight, I’ll have no trouble taking care of it myself.” Taking a step closer to you, he leaned down for a kiss that was much slower and softer than the last few you’d shared. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Night, Eddie. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

“Anytime.”

You waited at the door until he’d gotten in his van and driven away before finally heading back to your room. As soon as you closed your bedroom door and flopped down on your bed, you heard your mom’s car pull into the driveway. Meanwhile, Eddie drove home, foot a little heavy on the gas pedal as he itched to get back to his own room.

He didn’t see you again for two weeks. He knew the Hendersons’ phone number, but there was no way he could ask for you if Dustin or your mom picked up. So he waited, very impatiently mind you, and hoped he hadn’t ruined things by going so far with you so fast. 

When he did finally see you, it was at Hawkins High School. You’d come to pick Dustin up from that week’s Hellfire club meeting. You knocked on the door before entering, knowing that– despite the session being scheduled to end ten minutes ago– they often ran over their allotted time. Sure enough, you heard Eddie’s booming voice as you cracked open the door and slipped inside.

“And as the chimera flew closer–” When he noticed you he immediately straightened from his position looming over the table, clearing his throat and clasping his hands together behind his back. He didn’t want to scare you off with all this yet. “Okay gentlemen, that’s all for today.” The collective groan they let out had you feeling a bit guilty, they’d obviously been enjoying themselves, and now you were being the annoying big sister; you should’ve just waited in the car. But Eddie was quick to speak again. “Oh, cut the moaning. We’re almost fifteen minutes over and you all need more time to prepare for battle anyway. Amateurs.”

As the others all packed up their things, he approached you and you greeted him with a smile. “Sorry for interrupting, seemed pretty intense, I hope it wasn’t too important.”

“No, no, it’s good you came in. We would’ve been all caught up until someone else came in to stop us in a much less forgiving manner.” You both laughed and it went quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat again. “So uh, I’ve been hoping I’d see you around.”

“Yeah, me too… Smoking alone isn’t as fun anymore.”

His lips quirked up into a smirk and he nodded playfully. “Yeah, ‘ve been thinking the same. You should start buying from me, you know. I’ll give you a discount.”

“Oh, so I have to pay you to smoke with you again? You know, we used my shit last time,” You teased.

“You’ll never pay for anything you smoke when you’re with me, sweetheart. I’m a gentleman after all. Here, hang on.” He dashed back to the table, hunching over to write something down before tearing off the small scrap of paper and coming back to you. “Now you can get a hold ‘a me, come smoke all my weed anytime.”

“Oh, I’ll be taking you up on that.”

Your comfortable conversation was interrupted when Dustin shouted your name. “What’re you doing? Let’s go!”

“I’ll see you around, Munson.”

“Sure thing, Henderson.” 

As you drove Dustin home, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a bad idea to get involved with Eddie. He was one of Dustin’s best friends now, a mentor for him, one of the only male role models he’s had aside from Steve since he lost his father. The last thing you wanted was to make Dustin feel like you were taking that away from him. God forbid something should happen between you and Eddie and he doesn’t feel comfortable coming around anymore. You couldn’t do that to him. 

Still, you found yourself hunkered over the phone in the living room that night. You tried to hold out, you really did, but you only managed to hold yourself back until almost midnight after your family had gone to bed. Coiling the cord around your finger, you waited impatiently as the phone rang three times.

When he finally picked up, you could hear the smirk in his tone. “Hi, sweet thing. Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Well, I figured I was running low on bud anyway,” You drawled quietly. 

“You’re awful quiet,” He teased. “Don’t want Mommy to catch you up on the phone so late?”

“Fuck off,” You scoffed playfully. “If you’re having so much trouble hearing me over the phone, why don’t you come over?”

“Oh, so she minds a phone call, but it’s okay if we have a sleepover?” He snorted. 

“No, but if you’re quiet you can sneak in and back out before she wakes up to get ready for work. I’ve got twenty bucks calling your name,” You cooed enticingly.

“Seriously?”

"Come on, Munson, you've never climbed through a girl's window before? I'm disappointed."

He simply replied, "I'll be there in fifteen, make sure it's unlocked."

part two | finale | tmic masterlist

<3

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[romanreignseater]

Cinematography. (This Is Cinema ~ Roman’s Part)

Roman Reigns x Black Female Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut; Rough sex, p0rngraphy, oral (m&f receiving), slight spit kink, and other nausty (ikyk) thingsssss..

“Already having made an absolute masterpiece with Mr. Jey Uso, you didn’t think you’d be stepping to the so called “Tribal Chief” so soon. But he put himself next in line and you weren’t mad at it.

A/N: This has been the most requested in my inbox and I have been dying to continue this story/series for you all. Here’s the first part of this series. Thanks for the support on my last Roman fic, what a warm welcome back 🥰🥰. More coming soon, I got a lot of ideas brewing up. AND MY HUSBAND IS BACK, TURN UP BITCHHHHHH 😝😝!!

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GIF: @jeysuso

It has been about two weeks since your last adult video dropped and it was the talk of the town. Scratch that, it’s talk of the whole world at this point. You filmed with a member of the hottest porn group there is, Mr. Jey Uso, and he most definitely rocked your world. As that video did your bank account.

The video reached 1 million views in just an hour and over the course of two weeks it was at 205 million views. Those numbers meant shopping sprees and palm trees. But, also trips to the masseuse, cause Jey did not play no games with you. He wore you out to the point where your management thought it was best to put you on an “injury reserve” list.

Yeah… it was that bad and honestly unnecessary.

But, good at the same time. Jey made you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. What you didn’t know was a storm was brewing and headed straight for Casa Y/N.

As you stood in your kitchen making yourself some shrimp alfredo pasta with your teacup poodle, Rex, by your side being your little sous chef. The doorbell rang. Rex instantly began barking and running to the front door, trying his best to be your guard dog.

“Rex, calm your little ass down.” You yelled as turned the stove off and moved the pan of pasta to the side, wiped your hands and headed to the front door. You had no clue as to who was at the door, you weren’t expecting any company. Maybe it was a package, as your online spending habits always seem to leave your mind the second you purchased something. Or maybe fan mail, as you tend to get a lot of those from random men wanting to marry you.

“Rex back up from this door and stop all that barking please.” Rex sat quietly and tilted his head curiously to the side as you opened the huge door. You were surprised to see manager, Vanessa, standing at the door with a big grin on her face. As you opened the door even more, your breath completely stopped and your heart skipped a beat. Stood next to Vanessa was a 6’ 3, tatted, tan, and muscular Samoan with the face of a Greek god.

Your mouth stood agape as you admired his innate beauty, glaring at you with that smirk… that smirk that possessed all the women he’d ever worked with. Made them shrivel in their panties, made them wet for days, and made them absolutely numb to his body and his body only.

Roman Motherfuckin’ Reigns.

The leader of this adult film group aka “The Bloodline”, stood at your front door, with your manager. You couldn’t believe it!! Roman only had 8 videos up… 8 videos!! He’s only ever worked with 5 women in his entire pornstar career and they were quite the professionals. But now he stands at your door, which you could only guess what that means.

“Earth to Y/N, yoohoo. Y/N!!” You snapped back into reality as Vanessa began clapping her hands in your face. “Vanessa, where I’m from clapping your hands in someone’s face means you wanna fight. So, let’s not do that again. Got it?!” Vanessa looked taken aback as Roman just laughed with that dreamy chuckle of his.

“She is really feisty Nessa, just like you said, I like that.. a lot.” Roman whispered that last part into your ear so sensually that it made you want to take your phone and make this tape right here at the front door. But you remained professional as you knew Roman didn’t mess with little fan girls. He only worked with confident women who are professional and know what they want out of him.

And boy oh boy, you knew exactly what you wanted from him.

“Well let’s not waste any time with the long introductions. Y/N, Roman. Roman, Y/N. Shake hands and let’s get this party started.” Vanessa waltzed her way right into your home and picking up Rex in the process as she then said, “Ooo, is that alfredo I smell girl?!” You both watched as Nessa helped herself into the kitchen to feast on the meal you prepared for yourself.

“Your manager is really something, but she’s definitely a smart one and knows what she’s doing with you.” You faced Roman as you just gazed into his chocolate brown eyes as he did to yours. “Yeah that’s my girl. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?!” Roman removes your hand from the door, lets himself in and shut the door behind him. He then immediately picks you up and flings you over his shoulder. You gasped and begin giggling uncontrollably.

He gives a firm smack to your ass and heads his way into the kitchen.

“Oh, imma have fun with you baby.”

You bit your lip as you let Roman navigate his way through your home by following the smell of the pasta which would lead to where Vanessa stood chowing down per usual.

“Okay Groot, put my girl down. She’s on the injury reserve list and I can’t afford to have her down for another week.” You mentally curse out Nessa for mentioning this stupid injury reserve thing in front of Roman. He sets you down and takes a seat on the barstool across from Vanessa on the kitchen island.

“How did you get injured?!” He stares at you with curiosity in his eyes as you weren’t bandaged up, nor needing any sort of crutches or wheelchair. You played with your nails as you looked around the room trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Welllll… it’s kind of a long story. See what-.”

“Oh my god, she’s taking too long. Her last porno with your cousin, Jey. Messed. Her. Up. She’s been done up ever since.” Roman’s eyes moved from Vanessa’s to yours. You shut them not even daring to look back at him.

“Oh please, when I’m done with her she’ll be on that list for months. Why do you think I’ve only worked with 5 women my whole career?! Cause I broke em’ down, claiming they could take it but always proved me wrong. With you though… I know it’ll be different.”

Roman said that as he stood behind you massaging your ass with one hand and massaging your neck with the other. Roman’s massive hand travels from the back of your neck to the front of it as he choked you out. His hand on your lower half took the same route to your front, rubbing your pussy through your shorts. His pillow soft lips laid kisses all over your face, but grazing your lips every time you thought he was gonna go in for a kiss.

You completely crumbled. Cupping your entire clothed mound in his hand, massaging and torturing you. Making you squirm for his viewing pleasure. You lose your breath and awareness of your surroundings as he begins rubbing you out harder and enforcing a rougher choke around your neck.

“Ummmm, get your hands off my girl. You ain’t sign this contract yet.” Vanessa said with a mouthful of pasta, throwing the contract down in front of you both.

“Yeah you’re right. Can’t fuck the shit out of her without this little deal we curated.” Roman released you from the shackles of his hands and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Wait, what deal?!” You stared at your manager trying to regain your breath, as she continued to slurp down the pasta.

“Wellll… you see, what had happened wasss.” You looked at Vanessa in utter disbelief as she was out her making “deals” without your approval.

“Ah she’s taking too long.” Roman began to speak on Vanessa’s behalf. “We have curated a little deal princess, where we will have a committed “porn” relationship. Basically committing to film with each other, and each other only for a period of time. But as of right now, we’re doing a little tester. Seeing if we have the chemistry before we go lighting any sparks here.”

You stood giggling not minding the sound of this little “deal”. But you can’t help but notice that Roman’s come flocking after your tape with Jey and you’ve heard about the slight competition between the both of them.

“Okayyyy, and why now?! Is it because I filmed with your little cousin and you’re nervous he’s doing bigger numbers and has bigger things than you honey?!” You continued your uncontrollable giggles as you looked to Vanessa who stopped in her tracks.

Roman shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Those words deeply triggered him. Him and Jey were always in competition with one another. Since they were in little league football to now slanging that dick for all of America to see. Despite Jey being a twin, they were more of an inseparable duo rather than frenemies.

Of course Roman had immense amounts of love for his family, he helped bring them into the industry and helped change all of their lives for the better. But he was a firm believer of not letting the people you allowed in to over throw you. He stood at the Head of the Table and he wasn’t gonna allow little cousin Jey to take that from him.

“Vanessa… call the camera crew.”

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You didn’t even sign the contract and a camera crew was at your home setting up for what you could only assume was gonna be an absolute movie.

Roman didn’t speak to you after asking Nessa to invite the camera crew over. He must’ve not liked to hear you compare him to Jey, but it was all harmless fun… well to you at least.

You find Roman and Nessa in your bedroom with the camera crew setting up angles all around your bed. You slowly walked up from behind your bedroom door and Roman and Nessa looked up towards you. “Well don’t you look all cutesy girl. I haven’t seen you this dressed up since your first ever video..”

You visibly cringed at Nessa constant embarrassment of you as Roman chuckled his life away. “At least she’s all dressed up for a good reason. A great one at that." You dressed in your best lingerie. Red, tight, and riddled with lace.

Just how you liked it and assuming that’s how Roman liked it as well by the way he was eyeing you down.

“How about we get started, why don’t we?!” Roman sat on your Queen sized bed and waited patiently for you sit next to him. You slowly walked to the bed, as if you were unfamiliar with it. “This is your house, your bed sweetheart. Why you being all shy?! I don’t bite, well I might not bite right now.”

You blush and take a seat next to Roman on your bed. You look at Roman as he tells the main camera man where to stand.

“Sooo… there’s no game plan?! Just jumping straight into it?!” Most stars you’ve worked with have a certain setup for how their videos began and Roman seemingly didn’t have one. Most of his films sort of jumped straight into the last minutes of foreplay, then cut right to the sex.

“Sweetheart, this is my show and I’m running it. Just follow my lead and follow like a good girl, alright?!” Roman’s deep voice put you into a trance and hearing him call you a good girl nearly made you drool.

“Oh-okay.”

Roman pats my thigh and smiles at me.

“Good girl.”

He then signals the cameraman, which prompted him to start a countdown.

“In 5…

4…

3…

2…

1…”

He signals his finger towards us meaning that the camera is rolling. Staring directly into the lens, you were completely frozen. Your nerves began to get the best of you and those jitters you had when you first became an adult film star all came back.

You could feel the warmth of Roman peer closer to you. He places one of his large hands on your thigh and the other on your face, making you look him dead in his eyes.

“Don’t be nervous alright. Daddy’s got you.”

Before you could respond, Roman blesses your lips with a passionate kiss. Our lips smacking together in sensual harmony. His tongue swirled on the inside of your mouth, exploring every part of it.

Then the kiss became even slower. Your tongues fighting in a brute of passion, trying to figure out who asserted the most dominance. And of course… the Head of the Table won.

He moves from his spot next to you on the bed and stands in front of at the edge of the bed. He begins to massage your taut breasts through your lingerie, before removing it completely.

“Fuck baby, you look amazing.”

His comment only added to your nervousness, but his heavenly kiss brought you back to down to Earth.

He catches you by surprise as he yanks your hips to the edge of the bed and rips your soaked panties clean off. He spread your legs wide causing the glory of wetness to be revealed to him and the camera.

“You real wet huh mama?! Want Daddy to eat you out??”

You could only nod as his breath nearing your pussy could only cause you to shiver. He smirks and lowers his head down into your heat.

He begins eats you out messily, tossing your knees over his shoulders, and circling your clit until you soak his beard. He then sucked on each individual fold, licking and slurping covering it in saliva. You became a whimpering mess as he shook his head ferociously against your clit, with eyes rolling back, hands tangled in his luxurious hair and legs shaking and closing around his head.

“I’m gonna cum Dadddyyyyy.”

“Let it go mama.”

Your legs enclosed Roman’s head as they shook with maximum strength. Your back arched off the bed and Roman’s fingers gripped your thighs harshly, definitely leaving marks later.

You pant heavily, trying to regain your breath from the insane climax Roman just gave you. Without wasting anytime, he took his tank top off as well as his sweatpants and boxers.

His body a legit masterpiece. Sculpted by the gods.

Shocking you once again, he grasps the back of your knees, forcing them together and then crushing them into your tits. The head of his cock glides against your cunt, still convulsing from the feeling of that climax. 

Roman slams into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He just pounds you into the mattress. The room was filled with sounds, only sounds. The grunts and the wet slaps of his pelvis smacking against yours over and over again with his hand between your legs, rubbing your wet cunt and the place where it stretched around him.

“You like that mama?!”

“You feel it in your stomach, huh?!”

“Daddy’s going in real deep huh?!”

Your entire bed shook, the headboard slammed into the wall to the point where you believed the drywall began to crumble and holes will most definitely appear later on. You begin taking mental notes to tell Vanessa to send Roman a bill for your damaged wall.

His moans made you even wetter than you were before. It almost sounded like he was whimpering over your pussy.

Was the big man really whimpering over how good your pussy is?!

Before you could even relish in the sounds of his moans more, you legs shook once again as you felt your climax approaching and it was approaching fast.

Roman caught on to your short gasps and convulsing legs, he then began beating up your sweet cunt. Throwing your knees to the side of your head, making them touch your silk sheets. Pounding into you harshly, not missing a beat until you squirted all over his lower half and the sheets underneath you.

“Oh my goodness.” You let out an exasperated laugh as you closed your legs together to staph off that feeling. You winced as Roman let out a sharp smack to your ass. You opened your eyes as you watched him pleasure himself in front of you.

“Come suck this dick mama.”

Say no more.

You followed as Roman laid down and you took the position in between his legs, sniper style.

You grabbed at his flesh pole and it felt so hot and heavy in your hands. He most certainly was big. Like BIG. Although you didn’t want to compare lengths, Roman was massive compared to his cousin Jey. Maybe he liked to call him lil cuz for a reason.

“Whatchu you keep staring at?! Get to it princess.”

You innocently brought your mouth down and sucked the head. Moaning with his cock in your mouth and hands massaging at this balls. You slobbered down his length, bobbing your up and down head slowly. You peer your eyes up as you listened to the moaning and groaning Roman made from the moment you made contact with his member. His legs shook as you continued the pleasure.

His eyes rolled back and he grabbed the back of your head, bobbing your head up and down. Your eyes watered and you gagged as he stalled his hips in your mouth.

His cum coated the entirety of your throat. He groaned as you swallowed his cum while he was still in your mouth. His strong arms brought you up as he gave you a long kiss. Intaking all his cum and yours from earlier in each other’s mouths. A string of saliva hung from your lips to his. You both smile at each other, looking each other in the eyes.

“And… CUT!!”

You slightly jumped as you completely forgot about the tape you guys were filming. “That was absolutely perfect guys. Roman, Y/N… you both got a money maker on your hands right here.”

The camera crew began to clean up and take down the lights and mics. Roman tried to help you up off the bed, but you were so weak in the knees you couldn’t stand.

“I think we’ll keep on that list sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment and he began to chuckle. “Whatever Roman, just let me sit for a little.”

He smiled at you once more before he lowered himself to your ear. “Definitely better than Lil’ Jey huh?!”

This man is a problemmmm…

A good one though.

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THE END.

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED 💕💕!! Probably my fave Roman fic to date!!

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[novaursa]

Embers or War

- Summary: Aegon steals you and starts the Dance of Dragons.

- Paring: reader!niece/Aegon II Targaryen

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N Targaryen (carries the name of her mother's House) and has silver hair. Silverwing is reader's dragon.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 552

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The candles in your chamber flicker, casting shadows that dance against the stone walls. You try to calm your racing heart, but the thought of the impending marriage to Lord Trystan Arryn, a man you barely know, fills you with dread. Your mother, Rhaenyra, had arranged this union to solidify alliances, to strengthen her claim, to ensure the future she envisioned for you and your family. But your heart, it was not in the Vale. Your heart yearned for someone else.

Far across the Red Keep, Aegon II Targaryen paced in his chambers, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone floor. His mind was a tempest, a storm of emotions he could scarcely control. Anger, frustration, and a bitter sense of betrayal warred within him. The words of his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, still rang in his ears.

"End this war before it begins, Aegon. Marry Y/N. Unite the houses. Rhaenyra's refusal is nothing but selfishness."

Aegon had wanted to heed his mother's advice, to reach out and take what he believed was rightfully his. But Rhaenyra, stubborn and unyielding, had denied him. She had promised you to another, a political pawn in her game of thrones.

He sat heavily in a chair, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair, his violet eyes dark with brooding thoughts. The very idea of you with another man, a man who could never understand you the way he did, filled him with a rage he could barely contain.

"She thinks me unworthy," Aegon muttered to himself, the words dripping with disdain. "She believes her daughter deserves better than me."

He thought back to the times he had seen you, the fleeting moments that had etched themselves into his memory. Your laughter, your grace, the fierce determination in your eyes that mirrored his own. He had wanted you, not just as a means to an end, but because he had seen in you a kindred spirit, someone who understood the weight of the crown and the fire of the dragon.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Ser Criston Cole stepped inside, his face a mask of concern. "Your Grace, the preparations for the marriage are underway. Is there anything you wish to do?"

Aegon looked up, his eyes hardening. "This marriage is a farce, Criston. My mother is right. We must end this war before it begins, and Y/N is the key."

"But Rhaenyra has refused," Criston reminded him, his voice cautious. "She will not give up her daughter so easily."

"Then I will take what is mine," Aegon said, his voice a low growl. He stood abruptly, moving to the chest at the foot of his bed. He opened it and began to pull out his dragon riding armor, the black and red leather gleaming in the candlelight.

Criston's eyes widened slightly. "Your Grace, what are you doing?"

Aegon did not answer immediately. He fastened the buckles, the familiar weight of the armor grounding him, giving him purpose. "If Rhaenyra will not see reason, then I will make her see it. I will not let her dictate my fate, nor Y/N’s," he said, more to himself than to Criston.

He donned his gauntlets and helmet, each piece falling into place with a resolute finality. He felt the fire of his ancestors burning within him, the fierce determination that had driven the Targaryens to conquer Westeros. He would not be denied.

Criston watched, a mix of apprehension and admiration in his gaze. "You mean to take her by force?"

Aegon looked at him, his eyes blazing. "If that is what it takes. Y/N will not marry the Arryn lord. She will be mine."

As he strode out of his chambers, the clinking of his armor echoing through the halls, Aegon's mind was set. The time for negotiations was over. He would claim you, not just to prevent a war, but because in his heart, he knew you belonged with him. And he would move heaven and earth to make it so.

The Sept of the Eyrie was filled with the soft murmur of voices, the flickering light of candles, and the heavy scent of incense. The banners of House Arryn and House Targaryen hung side by side, a symbol of the alliance being forged. You stood at the altar, clad in a gown of silver and blue, the colors of both your houses woven together in intricate patterns. The weight of the dragon-shaped necklace, a gift from your mother, pressed against your collarbone, a constant reminder of the destiny that had been chosen for you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the silent cry of Silverwing, who remained restless outside. You could feel her unease, her discontent mirroring your own. You glanced around the Sept, your eyes meeting those of your family. Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood tall and regal, her expression unreadable. Your brothers, Jace and Luke, watched with a mix of pride and apprehension. Daemon, your stepfather, stood with his twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, their faces reflecting the solemnity of the occasion.

Lady Jayne Arryn, your soon-to-be mother-in-law, was a commanding presence, her gaze piercing as she surveyed the gathered guests. She had demanded a dragon, and your brother Jace had promised her one, binding you to this fate. You tried to steady your breathing, focusing on the vows you were about to take, the words that would seal your future.

The High Septon began the ceremony, his voice a deep, resonant tone that filled the sacred space. "We are gathered here today to join House Arryn and House Targaryen in holy matrimony, to forge an alliance that will bring strength and unity to our lands."

As he spoke, you felt a hand gently take yours. You turned to see Lord Trystan Arryn, a man older than you by many years, but with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. He smiled at you, a reassuring gesture that did little to calm the storm within you.

"Do you, Y/N Targaryen, take this man to be your lord husband, to honor and protect, in sickness and in health, for all the days of your life?"

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Your mind drifted to Aegon, the man who had occupied your thoughts more than you cared to admit. His fiery spirit, his determination, his undeniable connection to you through the bond of your shared blood. But those thoughts were a distant dream now, replaced by the reality of your duty.

"I do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"And do you, Lord Trystan Arryn, take this woman to be your lady wife, to honor and protect, in sickness and in health, for all the days of your life?"

"I do," Lord Trystan replied, his voice steady and sure.

The High Septon smiled, raising his hands in blessing. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. May the Seven bless your union and grant you many years of happiness."

As he spoke, the doors of the Sept burst open, and a rush of cold air swept through the chamber. The sudden intrusion caused a murmur of surprise among the guests. You turned, your heart leaping into your throat as you saw what had caused the disturbance.

Silverwing, your dragon, roared outside, her cry a mixture of anger and fear. The ground beneath you trembled, and the candles flickered wildly. A shadow passed over the Sept, darkening the space as something massive descended from the sky.

The ceiling above you began to crack and crumble, the stones shifting under the weight of an enormous presence. Screams echoed around you as guests scrambled to escape the falling debris. You looked up, your eyes widening in horror as a dragon, larger and fiercer, landed atop the Sept.

The roof gave way, and chunks of stone plummeted to the ground. You were pulled back by your brother Jace, his grip tight on your arm as he shielded you from the falling rubble. Your mother and Daemon moved swiftly, their swords drawn as they tried to maintain order amidst the chaos.

"Y/N, we need to get out of here!" Jace shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the dragon.

You nodded, your mind racing. This was no mere accident. This was an attack, a declaration of war. And you knew, deep in your heart, who was behind it.

As the ceiling continued to collapse, you caught a glimpse of the dragon's rider, clad in black and red armor. Aegon. His presence here, his audacity, sent a surge of conflicting emotions through you—fear, anger, and a twisted sense of relief.

The Sept of the Eyrie was no longer a place of holy matrimony. It had become a battlefield, and as the dust and debris settled around you, one thing was clear: the war had begun.

The sky was filled with chaos as Sunfyre roared, his golden scales glinting in the dim light. Aegon gripped the reins tightly, his eyes fixed on the Sept below. He spotted you amidst the wreckage and confusion, your silver hair standing out like a beacon. With a swift command, Sunfyre descended, landing with a thunderous crash on what remained of the roof.

Inside, the screams of guests and the cries of your family mingled with the deafening roar of the dragon. You stood frozen, your heart racing as you watched Aegon dismount and stride towards you, his expression a mixture of determination and desperation.

"Y/N!" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Jace, realizing Aegon's intent, moved to shield you. "Stay away from her, Aegon!" he shouted, drawing his sword.

Aegon’s eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "She comes with me, Jacaerys. This marriage will not happen."

Before Jace could react, Aegon was upon him, disarming him with a swift motion. He grabbed your arm, pulling you close. "Trust me, Y/N," he whispered urgently. "This is the only way."

You looked into his eyes, the conflict within you mirrored in his gaze. Before you could respond, he lifted you onto Sunfyre's back and mounted behind you. With a mighty flap of his wings, Sunfyre took to the sky, the wind whipping around you as the ground fell away beneath you.

Below, Daemon raced to Caraxes, his face a mask of fury. He leaped onto his dragon and gave chase, the blood-red beast slicing through the sky with terrifying speed. But as he drew closer, the realization dawned upon him—if he attacked, he risked your life as well. With a roar of frustration, he reined in Caraxes, watching helplessly as Sunfyre carried you away.

You clung to Aegon, your heart pounding with fear and adrenaline. The landscape blurred beneath you as Sunfyre soared towards King’s Landing, Silverwing trailing close behind. The flight was a whirlwind of emotions—anger at Aegon for his recklessness, fear for what awaited you, and an inexplicable thrill at being with him.

As Sunfyre landed in the courtyard of the Red Keep, you were immediately surrounded by guards and courtiers, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Aegon dismounted, helping you down with surprising gentleness.

Otto Hightower stormed towards you, his face livid. "What have you done, Aegon? This act will ignite the war we sought to avoid!"

Aegon faced his grandfather with steely resolve. "The war was inevitable, Otto. This was the only way to secure our position."

Without another word, he led you through the labyrinthine hallways of the Red Keep, his grip on your arm firm but not painful. The walls seemed to close in around you as he guided you to his chambers, his silence heavy with unspoken words.

Inside his chambers, Aegon turned to face you, his eyes softening. "I had no other choice, Y/N. I couldn’t let you be taken from me."

You stared at him, your emotions a tumultuous storm. "You’ve started a war, Aegon. Do you understand that? My mother, my brothers—what will become of them?"

He stepped closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I know the risks, but I couldn't bear to lose you. We will find a way through this, just us."

His words, filled with a desperate sincerity, made your resolve waver. You felt the warmth of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, and despite everything, you couldn’t deny the bond between you.

Slowly, Aegon began to undress you, his fingers deft and sure. The cool air brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He shed his own armor and clothing, revealing the strength and vulnerability beneath. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in the intimate glow of the chamber as he moved you to his bed.

Aegon’s eyes were locked onto yours, his gaze filled with a mixture of longing, determination, and something deeper, something that made your heart race.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his touch both reassuring and possessive. His fingers trailed down your arms, igniting a trail of warmth that spread through your entire body. He pulled back slightly, his breath mingling with yours. “Are you ready, Y/N?” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. “Yes, Aegon. I’m ready.”

With a gentle touch, Aegon positioned himself above you, his movements careful and deliberate. He entered you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, searching for any sign of discomfort. The initial sensation was intense, a mix of pleasure and a hint of pain, but his tenderness reassured you.

He began with a slow, rhythmic pace, each movement deepening the connection between you. “Is this alright?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern and desire.

“It’s perfect,” you replied, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping them for support.

Encouraged by your response, Aegon quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more insistent, more urgent. Each movement was filled with a mixture of tenderness and possessiveness, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that moment. The world outside the chamber faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the intensity of your shared desire.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. The sound of his name on your lips seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more deliberate, more determined.

“You’re mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. 

The passion between you built to a crescendo, your bodies moving in perfect harmony. The sensations were overwhelming, a blend of raw need and deep affection. You felt as if you were standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to plunge into the depths of your shared desire.

As the intensity peaked, Aegon held you close, his breathing ragged. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “Nobody will take you away from me,” he promised, his voice a vow.

As his lips met yours once more, the Dance of Dragons began, a storm of fire and blood that would shape the future of Westeros. In that moment, amidst the chaos and impending war, there was only you and Aegon, bound by fate and a love that defied the world.

[cozage]

Congrats on 2k!!!!

For the request I was wondering if you could do the ASL boys confessing to their childhood friend that they've had a crush on:) and if it's not too much could you add shanks as well?? It's okay if not!

I love your writing it's the best just make sure you're taking care of yourself!! <3

A/N: Some of these are kind of subtle, but I think subtle is their way of confessing after that long :)  Characters: gn reader x Ace, Sabo, Luffy, Shanks CW: Marineford spoilers Total word count: 873

From Friends to Lovers

Ace

“She looks like your type,” you mumbled, nudging Ace. A girl at the end of the bar had been eyeing him all night. 

“And how do you know my type?” Ace asked, raising his eyebrow at you. He was slurring his words just slightly; enough for you to know he was drunk.

“Please. We’ve been friends forever, and we’ve sailed together for two years. I know what kind of girls you go for.” You laughed, pushing down the jealousy that churned in your stomach. 

“You must not,” Ace said, leaning his head against you. "I'll stay right where I am."

“Go talk to her,” you urged. “It’s not doing you any good being by my side.”

He frowned at you. “What do you mean? I’m already sitting next to the hottest person in the bar.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. 

“I’m serious.” He had a newfound urgency in his voice. “You’re the only one for me. You’ve always been the only one for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no way he could be serious right now. He was drunk and stupid. 

He saw the bewilderment on your face and gave you a goofy grin. “Are you just now realizing I’m head over heels for you?! I thought I had made that obvious from day one!”

Sabo

You stared at the man before you, unsure how to react. He looked like Sabo. He definitely acted like Sabo. Even his name was Sabo. But it had to be a coincidence. 

“No,” you said. “Sabo died. Sabo died a long time ago.”

“There was this one winter day where we went sledding,” he said. “We raced Ace and Luffy down the hill a hundred times. They kept trying to beat us, but they never could. And then Dadan made us go inside and gave us hot chocolate and let us all sleep together in one big bed that night because it was so cold. I said it was the best day ever because we got to spend it together.”

Tears filled your eyes as he spoke. “You died,” you whispered again. 

You were talking to a ghost. You were afraid any moment you’d wake up and be left alone again. Just like when he had died. Just like when Ace had died, and Luffy had disappeared.

“I lost my memories from the head injury and was taken in by the Revolutionary Army. I only remembered after I saw the headlines about…” 

“Ace,” you whispered, tears spilling over. It still hurt to think about. 

“I’ll never leave you again,” he promised. “Come back with me to the Revolutionary Army. We’ll keep you safe. I want to hear about everything.”

“Sabo-”

“Please,” he begged. “I know I just remembered you, but my heart has ached every moment we’ve been apart. I just found you again and I’m starting to feel whole. Please-please don’t leave yet.”

Luffy

“Heeeeeeyyyyyyy!!!!” Luffys voice rang out from above you, and you instinctually braced yourself. 

He slammed into you, sending the both of you falling to the ground. You screamed out in glee as rubber arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. 

“It’s been a while, Luffy!” 

“I can’t believe it’s really you!” He shouted. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my home, idiot!” You laughed, trying to squirm out from under him. 

Moving away from his grip was proving to be quite difficult though, considering Luffy’s body weight was on top of you, his arms still tightly around you to prevent you from moving. 

“Your home was Windmill Village. I’ve missed you since you left.” 

Tears filled your eyes, and you suddenly enjoyed his closeness “I missed you too, Luffy.”

“Sail with me and my crew,” he said, pulling away slightly to look in your eyes, begging you with his big, dark eyes. “I want you to join me.”

You raised your eyebrow. “I have a life here, Luffy. I can’t-“

“Make a life with me!” He whined. “Come on!!”

“You still want to be King of the Pirates?” 

“I can only do it with you by my side.”

Shanks

A red-haired man sat down next to you in the bar, glancing your way. 

“Come here often?” he asked, sliding your favorite beer over to you. 

“Only in town for the week.” A smile danced across your lips. “My pain in the ass captain has us on a tight schedule.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his jolly laugh, the room brightening as his voice echoed through it. 

“He sounds like tough work,” Shanks said, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“He is!” You took a long drink of your beer. “I’ve been sailing with him my whole life, I think I would know.”

He smirked. “And you’re not tired of him yet?”

“Nah,” you chuckled. “I could never get tired of you.”

Your words caught up with your brain, and your cheeks turned a deep pink at the realization of what you had said. 

“Good, because I’ll never get tired of you either. ” Shanks gave you a softy, gentle smile and cupped your cheek with his hand. “So you’re stuck with me for the rest of time, okay? You’re all mine.”

“Of course, Captain.”

[lunajay33]

Waiting🖤 Part.2

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

Part.1

•Masterlist•

Friday came and I was a nervous wreck, I didn’t care to tell Bella or dad about this seeing as Bella has already distanced herself from me and I didn’t wanna get dads hopes up, sitting in math class, the last class of the day I kept glancing at the clock ticking closer and closer to the final bell, trying to distract myself I delved back into the worksheet infront of me, soon enough the bell rang and my heart jumped

Anxiously I threw everything into my bag and left the school straight to the parking lot, where Emmett was leaned against his silver jeep, when his eyes landed on me that bright smile stretch across his face making his amber eyes shine

“Hey gorgeous you ready for the best night of your life?” I could feel the heat rush to my face only making his smirk widen

“Not like that y/n, not yet anyways, come on hop in” he said as he held the door open for me, quickly getting in the drivers seat next to me

“Sooo um what’re we doing?”

“Thought we could go hiking, maybe get out of the cloud bank into some sunlight”

“I love hiking! Sounds like fun” finally relaxing knowing now it’s something I’m use to doing

He drove for a while out of forks to a near by hiking trail not commonly used by the public, we got out and started our journey

“So tell me a bit about yourself Angel” he said breaking the silence

“Well there’s not much to know, I’ve lived here my whole life, my sister and mom left when I was young so it’s just been me and my dad, I became homeschooled until now and I usually just read and do homework”

“Not a big social butterfly I assume?”

“Not really, what about you? Tell me everything!”

“Well I have 4 adopted siblings, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Edward, you’ll love Alice she’s the sweetest, I like getting out into the forest, love music and working out”

“Yeah I can tell” I smiled glancing at his bulging muscles under his long sleeve shirt

“Woah she’s got some fire in her after all” he laughed nudging my arm

“What can I say you bring it out of me” his hand grazed against mine until he went for it and intertwined his fingers through mine

“Why so nervous pretty girl? Do I fluster you?”

“Maybe, I’ve never really done stuff like this but it’s nice” I saw his features soften as he looked down at me and gently squeezed my hand

“Really? A beautiful thing like yourself, I’m surprised you don’t have boys on their knees begging for your attention”

“I think you have me mixed up with my sister” I laughed nervously

“And who might that be because I don’t even need to see her to know your beauty is beyond anything of this world”

“Emmett stop you’re just trying to make me blush, and my sister is Bella, Bella swan she’s new to the school” he stopped dead in his tracks with a shocked expression

“Bella is your sister, like your actual sister?”

“So you already know her, not a surprise”

“No it’s not that, my brother Edward has been after her since she came at the start of the week, kind of funny how two brothers can like two sisters, but I must say I got the more beautiful”

“You’re too sweet Em, I can’t believe she hasn’t said anything”

“Edward is a very awkward secretive guy I’m sure Bella is the same way maybe that’s why she hasn’t said anything”

“Can’t say you’re wrong”

He looked me up and down trying to judge something, curious

“Do you trust me?”

“I only just meet you but yeah, I do”

In an instant he flung me over his back so I was clung to him like a monkey

“Hold on tight sunshine” everything flew by in a blur, there was no shape to anything with the speed he was going, but however he was doing this it didn’t scare me or make me wonder what the hell was happening, I actually felt at peace

Soon enough he stopped as we cleared the cloud bank and the sun was beaming, he placed me gently back down on my feet and turned around, his skin was like a million tiny crystals, I was in awe by how much more beautiful he became

“Are you scared?” He asked as his face scrunch with worry

I raised my hand and traced down his cheek feeling his hard cold skin

“No quite the opposite, you’re beautiful Emmett”

“Don’t you wanna know what I am?” He asked placing his hands on my hips

“Whatever you are I’d never judge, I feel you’d never hurt me so I don’t care what you are”

“How did I get so lucky” he stated as he lifted me like I weighed a feather, wrapping my legs around his waist

“What do you mean?”

“Us vampires have mates and the moment you bumped into me in the hallways I knew you were mine, the one I’m meant to spend the rest of my life with”

“But why me, you could have anybody”

“You’re everything I’ll ever need, I wish you could see yourself the way I see you Angel, and I’ll spend the rest of eternity showing you how amazing you are”

My heart swelled with the most love I’ve ever felt and I’m lucky enough to finally find the one who will brighten my life

Taglist: @whit0912 @serenadingtigers @twilightlover2007