#Kieran culkin characters

[strang3lov3]

Tear You Apart

Roman hatefucks you (2.1k words).

Tags - smut, rough/violent sex, mean!roman, and perhaps dark!roman too if you squint (I’m serious. Don’t underestimate him) lack of proper foreplay (intentional), unprotected piv, spanking, biting, choking, hitting, degradation, bruises, dacryphilia, hatefuck, masturbation, fingering, creampie, come play, fearplay, threats of violence, typical Roman sexism, Roman spits in your mouth, orgasm denial, Roman denies you of some basic physiological needs in maslow’s hierarchy, a singular atom of aftercare, one (1) Depeche Mode reference. Probably forgot some things but if you’re here then you know what you want, and I know what you want, and we both know you’re gonna read anyway.

A/N - received a message from god and i did what had to be done. @cum-a-calla said “k but imagine Roman talking about how much he hates you while being violently railed. swoon” so here’s this. Straight fucking, beginning to end. I love you @cum-a-calla I think you’re just the fucking best 😻🥰 and @beefrobeefcal do your eyes ever hurt from how much I abuse them? Thank you for lending them to me again and again 💜🥩🐛

Roman’s swaying left and right in his swivel chair, nursing a glass of whiskey when you open his bedroom door. “You’re late,” he says, slurring his words ever so slightly. His eyes are bloodshot, hair mussed, tie loosened and his white shirt unbuttoned. Roman takes his silver watch off and sets it down on the end table next to him. 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I know.”

“You texted 10:30,” Roman reminds you. “And it’s midnight.” 

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” 

“Better fuckin’ not. C’mon, chop chop. You know what you’re here for.” 

You do know; the same thing you’re always here for. Roman downs the rest of his drink, then pours another, and this time offers it to you. You decline politely, a quiet and demure no, thank you with a gentle shake of your head as you take off your shirt. Roman shrugs, drinks that one too. He feels lightheaded. 

You shuck off your pants, and Roman takes care to help you with your bra, fingers tracing over the indents it’s left in your skin. “All of it,” he says, smacking your ass, right over that large, rashy bruise he left last time. It was a week ago, maybe. Is that correct? Is that the last time you did this? Roman can never keep track. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just as hungry for Roman’s violence as he is to inflict it upon you. 

You shimmy the cotton underwear down your hips and your legs, now fully bare before Roman. Exposed. Roman sidles up behind you, his veiny hands on your waist. He urges you closer to the mirror and turns you around slowly, admiring the marks he made on you last time. Bite marks, lots of bites, and god, how he loves sinking his teeth into your skin. There’s bruises darkening your skin, though not all are visible. Some you feel instead of see. There’s the odd scratch, maybe the fault of his unclipped nails or perhaps the blunt metal edge of his watch he doesn’t always remember to take off. Roman watches you in the mirror, the eye contact intimidating. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Roman presses his fingertips against a bruise on your hip, causing you to wince. It’s an odd shape, odd location too. “I like this one,” Roman says. “Pretty.” It’s a compliment, almost. Almost. 

It begins here. Roman separates your hands that are held together, nervously fidgeting with yourself. He takes your forearm and twists it behind your back, pushes it up, up, even higher yet. You can see in the mirror how he smiles, his eyes darkening when you start to wince in pain. “You’re hurting me,” you whine. “You’re - ah, my arm–”

“I know it hurts you,” Roman taunts. “I could break it just like this. Fuckin’ snap it. I think about it sometimes.”

His words make you sick. Make you breathe funny, make you feel all icky inside. He fucking loves it, how your breath hitches in your throat, and how he can feel it happen under his palm. And when you’re afraid like that, you squeeze around him harder, walls pulsing, clenching…

Roman forces you down onto the bed, your face buried in his pillows. You lie on your stomach and he parts your thighs with his knee, still holding you in place, now with both of your arms bent into place. Roman holds them in one hand and kneels at your side, and with his free hand he rubs over the swell of your ass. He parts your cheeks, admires your tight asshole and your snatch. He traces those pretty folds of yours and rubs your clit, listening to those quiet gasps you swallow. He wonders when you’ll - and yup, there it is. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding your hips into his palm. Roman smiles at this. The rules, you’re breaking the rules. “I’m not gonna make you come,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you mumble.

“I’m only getting you wet.”

“I know.” 

“Then what do you think you’re doing?”

Silence. Roman removes his fingers from your cunt and spanks you hard - once, twice, three times total. You wail in pain, humming rhythmically in an attempt to soothe yourself of the ache, that awful sting. Roman traces the outline of his puffy handprint on your ass. “You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this little dance. You never learn who calls the shots. Un-fucking-believable,” he huffs. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts - you can forget about getting wet now. Spread your legs.”

Roman situates himself behind you as you spread your legs, though it’s not enough. Roman holds the backs of your knees in his hands and spreads you wider, the cool air a jarring sensation against your hot, pulsing sex. He unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the floor where it lands with a loud thump. He undoes his pants next, the zzzzip noise slow and loud as the metallic teeth separate one by one. Roman pulls his already-hard cock out and before entering you, brings his palm to your mouth. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. Spit.” 

You lift your head and spit into his palm, and he strokes his cock with it before pressing his blunt head against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath, anticipating what’s to come. 

Roman thrusts violently into you, the stretch and the burn causing you to squeal. You scramble for hold on the sheets, the pillows - anything to ground yourself as you take the pain he gives to you. Roman grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks, “C’mon,” he goads. “You can do better than that.”

Roman pulls out of you all the way and plunges right back into you, harder than before. You bite into a comforter to muffle a sob, the first tears squeezing from your eyes. It hurts, it all really fucking hurts, and each time is worse than the last. 

He wriggles his forearm under your tummy and hikes your hips up, Roman on his knees behind you. “Fuck yourself on it,” he says. “Go on and fuck my cock. Show me that you’re good at one thing, one simple thing.” 

Following his command, you rock yourself forward, then back again. It’s slow, as that’s all you can stomach right now. The pain hasn’t yet dissipated and each movement, each twitch of Roman’s cock feels like a knife against your insides. The pain is fiery, too intense to focus on anything but. 

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes,” you whimper, till rocking, inch by little inch. “I’m trying.”

Too slow. You’re too fucking slow, and too fucking tedious. Roman rolls his eyes, “You’re fucking pathetic,” he spits, words like poison. He takes your hips in his hands and pulls you hard against his cock, his hips slamming against your ass as he sets a brutal pace. “I have to do everything for you. What can you do, huh? Tell me, say ‘nothing, Roman’.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice thick with your tears. “Nothing, Roman.”

“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it, you goddamn useless fucking cunt.” Roman���s nails are digging, cutting into your skin as he fucks you like an animal. “You’re good for nothing but getting fucked. Fucking whore, you’re fucking nothing without me. Nothing.”

You nod, sobbing as he pounds into you. You’re completely powerless, just how he wants you. Roman bares his teeth as he leans over you to wrap his hand around the column of your neck, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks up into you. Roman squeezes your throat, bruising the soft flesh as he bites into your shoulder hard enough so that he draws blood. The coppery taste, the crimson dotting your skin. He licks it away. 

He’s choking you. He’s choking you and you’re wheezing, coughing and sputtering as you try desperately to wriggle your fingers under his palm. You succeed in this, or perhaps Roman lets you have a small win - either way, you free yourself from him and crawl forward on the bed, reaching for Roman’s glass of water on the nightstand. With shaky hands, you bring the glass to your lips and take little sips, all you can handle and you’re still spilling onto yourself. Roman glares at you as he gets off and rounds the bed, then takes the glass away from you. “Did I say you could have that?”

“I was ch-”

Roman lays a brutal slap against your cheek, less of a smack and more of a beating. His palm is so sharp it makes you cry harder. Fuck, he loves when you do that. 

“Shut the fuck up. You choke if I want you to choke,” he bites. “Don’t pull that shit again. God, I fucking hate you.”

Roman forces you onto your back and spreads your legs again. He enters you just as harshly as he did before, finding that same, punishing, unrelenting pace as he fucks you deep, the head of his cock kissing against your cervix with every one of his thrusts. 

You choke on your sobs, hyperventilating as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel lightheaded, numb everywhere but where pleasure and pain flows between your hips. Breathe, you need to breathe. 

“Stupid fucking slut. I fucking h- oh, fuck. Shit. I fucking hate you. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hate you, you know that?” 

You cry and cry, burying your head into Roman’s pillows to hide your face. Roman pulls the pillows away from you and throws them onto the floor, then grabs your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks as he squeezes your jaw. “Hey. You fucking look at me when I use you. Right here. You focus right here.” 

Your face is puffy with tears, eyes red and tear-stained, lashes all wet. Roman wears a crooked smirk as he digs his fingers harder into your cheeks so that your mouth opens in a little O shape, then spits into your mouth. “Cunt. I fucking hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.” 

Roman pounds into you, hovering over your body to cage you in. You’re gonna feel all of him, and nothing else. He pins your wrists together above your head, his face panting into the skin of your neck as he fucks you so brutally. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

If you focus hard, you can feel his pubic bone against your clit. You follow that sensation, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing that sweet friction. You could come. You could. 

“Nuh-uh. Nice fucking try,” Roman half-laughs. “You’re not subtle.” 

Standing before you, Roman grabs you by the ankles and tugs you closer to himself. He puts your legs on his shoulders and ruts into you relentlessly, now chasing his orgasm. He could’ve gone longer than this, but he’s not gonna let you come on his cock. 

Roman feels that fiery pleasure build quickly in his belly, balls tightening, indicating that release is just moments away. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Roman moans gutturally, hanging his head back as he milks himself entirely, spurting rope after rope of his hot come.

You feel cheated. You feel used. You’re a crying mess when Roman pulls out of you, his spend spilling onto his bed. “R-Roman,” you whimper, violent sobs wracking through your body. Roman gathers his spend with his fingers and paints it over your cunt, lips all swollen and sore with the ferocity of his fucking. “I need you, Roman.”

Roman leans over you, “Go fuck yourself,” he whispers in your ear. “I mean it. Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

You’re completely exhausted. Fucked out. But still, you reach for your center and gather Roman’s come on your fingertips and circle your clit, willing your release along. Writhing on the bed, chasing a pleasure only Roman can give to you. And your poor pussy is so sore, beaten and bruised by Roman. He watches you intently and with dark, loveless eyes, that vein bulging in the center of his forehead. He covers your mouth with his hand and brings the other to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside, gentler than before. He curls those fingers repeatedly as you rub circles around your clit and oh, there it is. You’re pulsing around his fingers, muffled moans signaling your orgasm. Roman works you through it and far past its end, only stopping when you’re a twitching shuddering wreck, a bug flailing on its back. Pathetic.

Roman pulls his fingers from you and shoves them past your lips, “Suck,” he murmurs, then presses his forehead against yours. You lick his fingers, tasting your own release mixed with Roman’s. “God, you’re so fucked up,” he murmurs in a saccharine tone, and the sympathy in his voice sounds almost genuine. “So fucked up. Why do you let me do this to you, huh?”

-

Roman tags ❤️

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills

@highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @/always-andromeda

[greenduvet]

flowers she gave him pt. 1

A/N: Hi loves!! So excited to finally share this story that has been brewing in my head for what feels like forever. I haven’t posted any of my writing publicly for years! So this is a big step for me, and I just couldn’t keep these thoughts to myself any longer. I want to say the biggest thank you to @luiscarrutherss and @galarian-weezing-on-prep for not only reading the early draft but making me feel excited to write and share my story. Also my girlfriend for helping me edit and watching succession. This will be a friends to lovers slow burn, so if that’s your jam like mine stick around! Anyways, enjoy mwah!

The floor was silent. Most people had gone home hours ago, the lights off in most offices. It was always so odd this time of night — looking out over all the different worlds happening just below, life continued on so vividly yet it felt so stiff and halted here.

It wasn’t the plan to have been here this late. Really he should have picked you up hours ago, the dinner reservation that had been made earlier this week now way past check in.

The reservation was Roman’s idea. Maybe a poor attempt at an apology, the only way a Roy knew how to apologize — dance around it yet never letting it fully resolve. You were used to it by now, a lifetime of Roman had made you well familiar. Yet this time felt different. Roman for once in his life was being distant, independent. He would blame it on work, family, stress, but you knew him better than that.

Tearing your eyes from the window, you look at your phone. Still nothing from Roman, not even a heads up that he would be an hour late to the aforementioned reservation. The thought of sending another ignored text filled you with a sense of irritation. Why wait here when you could see him face to face?

Without a second thought you haphazardly throw your things into your bag, muttering softly to yourself. The lights of your borderline clinical office flick off as you shut the door.

The way to Romans office was nearly tattooed in your brain from years of walking back and forth. Though your office was just down the hall, tonight it felt like a dreadful journey into unfamiliar territory. This wasn't how the night was supposed to go.

Turning the corner you could see him through the thick glass walls. He was staring at his computer, full attention to whatever was on the screen. You swear you had never seen him work so hard in his life… or at least pretend to work this hard. With a soft sigh, you walk into the office and stop in front of his desk, his eyes not once glancing from the screen.

“Late night?” The tone of your voice is dry, maybe a bit sarcastic. You weren’t used to this Roman, the detached, focused type. He had always been clingy, willing to throw his work down as soon as you had walked in.

Even standing directly in front of him, his eyes still never move from the screen. Moving his free hand from the desk to run through his already tousled hair, he hums softly, not bothering to give a full response.

Another sigh leaves your mouth and you turn to take a seat on the piece of foam covered in velvet they called a couch, there more for decor than actual comfort.

~~~

While your back is turned, Roman’s eyes glance quickly to you. The perfect image of a long day, he watched as you slowly dropped your bag without a thought. The whole day he had fought the urge to text you and watched the minutes tick past the planned reservation. He didn’t understand why he was doing this, pushing you away and trying to hurt you. Yet he felt like he was the only one hurting here.

As quick as his eyes lingered on you they were back on the screen, looking at the same report sheet he had been rereading for over an hour now. The sight of you settling on the couch out of the corner of his eye made his brows furrow softly. Why was he doing this again?

“Uh, ya know, Dad had me do some stuff.” He mumbles softly in response, his voice high in octave and almost tense. God, he didn’t even believe himself. He rips the hand in his hair down and begins to rapidly type something on the computer, trying his best to sell his stupid ‘busy’ act. You weren’t buying it, but it was unspoken that you and Roman never really did feelings — maybe that's why you were still so close.

~~~

Sighing, you pull your phone out and slip off the uncomfortable shoes you were wearing. It seems like Roman won’t be finished anytime soon, so neither will you.

The two of you work in a tense but comfortable silence, you clearing old emails and roman rapidly slamming keys. It was routine, though it didn’t keep you from noticing that what was once so familiar was now slowly changing. The silence still comfortable, yet more deafening than before.

“We had a reservation for tonight, did you forget?” Your voice breaks the silence, addressing the elephant in the room. Panning your view to roman, you can tell the question makes him squirm. The vein on his forehead bulged, his eyes widening ever so slightly at the screen.

You wait to hear some poor excuse, something around how it wasn’t his fault or to fuck off… but it never comes. Roman just continues to slam on the keys, the discomfort only growing on his face.

Sitting up, you nearly roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time of the night. You didn’t have time to waste sitting twiddling your thumbs to expect a coherent response from Roman when he obviously wasn't interested in giving you one. Slipping on your tight shoes, you grab your bag and rise wordlessly.

You look at Roman, hoping for something. For him to look at you, acknowledge that you were here for him. His eyes remained glued to the screen, though it seems like there is a deeply rooted panic there. 5...10…30 seconds go by and he does nothing.

The voice in your head repeating a mantra of fuck this over and over finally wins, and you turn to the door to leave. Though it hurt, you were tired of this back and forth. That, and your bed sounded much more appealing than the stone couch.

~~~

The second you leave Romans office, his eyes tear from the screen to your disappearing figure. The feeling of panic that had been bubbling in his chest all week started to explode into a deeper fear — you were walking away. He knew he deserved it, but still — what the fuck? Part of him thinks to leave you be and ignore your texts again, but his heart is screaming at him to follow you, chase after you and stop pushing you away like he had been for weeks.

He rises from his desk, leaving his computer unlocked and hastily makes it over to where you’d gone off to.

~~~

It feels like the elevator is taking forever on purpose. Maybe to taunt you for waiting for Roman, or maybe because deep down you had hoped he would come after you. Still, you waited for the doors to open so you could forget about today and the weird feeling in your chest at your best friend ignoring you. Why did it feel like you might actually lose him this time? Roman had seen you through your worst, and you’d seen him through his. But this dynamic was new, and didn’t feel like something you could recover from.

Finally, the high pitched ding breaks you from your thoughts, the doors sliding open to the luxury elevator awaiting you. Stepping in, you scan your badge and wait to be taken to ground level once again. Wine sounded good tonight, lots of it.

The doors begin to close, but before they can shut a hand is shoved between them, forcing them to open. Roman. He was there, face slightly flushed. It was funny, because Roman had never been the one to chase after you originally.

~~~

The sun felt hot – almost scorching. It was the end of June and finally it was starting to feel like summer in the hamptons. The backyard seemed to stretch on forever and was decked in long tables covered in lavish meals. This was a yearly event Logan held for his “partners” and their families — It was for the people who knew where the bodies were hidden. The whole ‘get away’ was to keep them close.

Though the event was mostly filled with adults, a few children were scattered around. A boy almost in his older teens, one a few years younger doing his best to fit in with the adults. An even younger boy with messy hair and big eyes, a young girl with fiery red hair, and lastly another girl who didn’t really fit in with the others. Yet that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Roman! Look at this – it's a worm!” You held out the stick with a worm dangling from it, the soft blue dress hanging on your tiny frame most definitely ruined. The wide grin on your face only grew as Romans eyes widened in disgust as he turned in the opposite direction. You would only start to chase after him again in response, as you had all afternoon.

This was a game between just you and Roman — you bugged, poked, nagged, and in response he would run away, gag, and ignore. For some reason your tiny brain just never got the memo that he couldn’t stand you. Things were easier back then. Innocent.

The sound of a loud bell stops you in your steps, Roman halting ahead of you. Dinner time. Placing the worm gently back to the ground you follow the children you came to know as the Roys.

The feeling of eyes on you from your parents and other bodies burnt like fire on your skin as you approached the dinner table. You hadn’t meant to dirty the dress, but running through the vast yard with the people you called “friends” had made you forget — forget that this was a performance, and that you needed to set a good example so that your family could stand out. Your mother would have words to say about this later.

Each child slid into their assigned seat at their own table away from the adult conversations happening at the other, longer table. You couldn’t help but feel a little relieved — you didn’t fully understand that whole world yet at the ripe age of 5, but you knew enough to be bored. Shiv felt the same way you did, her face more relaxed now than it had been at the sound of the ringing bell.

Roman’s seat was the one next to yours, and it was made obvious by the soft groan that left his mouth when he saw the tag of his name next to yours. Dramatically, he pulled his chair from the table, each action over dramatized and nearly throwing his body into the seat. Though the sour look didn't last long on his face as his eyes panned over to you and your dirty blue dress.

“Mommy and Daddy won’t be very happy with that, now will they?” The sour look fades from his face, a devilish grin replacing it. His tone is teasing and rude. It wasn’t anything new with Roman, though. The only attention he spared to give you was the more unpleasant kind. But it didn’t stop your obsession with trying to break him down and play with you.

You return his comment with a pout and look away from him, your hands finding themselves busy undoing the neatly folded table napkin at your place setting. Gently your fingers pull it apart, corner by corner. Finally you place it gently on your lap, your head high as you reply. “It was an accident. Maybe if you played nice, I wouldn't be messy.”

Roman was almost surprised with the response he was met with, a little smirk filled his lips. He couldn’t help but feel put in his place. He nodded to himself, taking the napkin and ripping the cloth out of its fold. Vastly different from the way you had done it with so much meaning. Maybe you weren’t as annoying as Roman thought.

The dinner was pretty tame. The children made soft conversation about various topics — the summer vacations they had planned, the extracurriculars, the movies they wanted to see. While the adults stuck to business conversation, how it always was and would be. It felt nice though, for once being around other children who somewhat understood your lifestyle. That, and it was a lot better than the company of your au pair.

After dinner, you find yourself with Shiv in the garden playing a game of fairies while running around the well maintained garden of roses. The sound of your feet against the gravel and shared giggles is all that can be heard — a pure moment of childhood innocence. Your dress slowly changed into one more brown than blue, Shiv’s own dress dirtying as well. It didn’t matter though, because for once you were just girls playing.

Logan’s booming voice rips you and Shiv from the moment. You can’t make out anything he is saying, but the both of you know it can't be good. You look to Shiv but her eyes are already on your face, wide and crystal blue. Then you hear it clear as day, the only word that mattered. Roman.

Looking around, you find a flower from one of the many bushes and pluck it gently, making sure to not damage any petals. You didn’t know Roman well yet but you knew well enough that this was normal. The sound of Logan's booming voice most times directed at him, as he seemed to always be the easiest target. Though, there was something about this time that felt worse than the others.

Without a second thought you run off, away from Shiv and the flower garden, carefully cradling the small white flower in your palm. The soft sound of sniffling guiding where to go, eventually leading you to the side of the oversized house.

There he was — sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, and a hand holding his cheek in pain. The spitting image of a kicked puppy.

This was worse than the other times.

Wordlessly you sit next to Roman, eyes not daring to look at him, but glued to the wall with ivy overgrowing. Before Roman can protest or run away, you bring the small white flower into view. A smile fills your lips before placing the flower onto his knee with all the care in the world.

That was the moment everything changed.

~~~

The elevator doors open fully and Roman steps into it with you. Your name falls from his lips as his hands comb through his hair for the umpteenth time that night. “Look– Fuck. Let’s just grab dinner, okay? There’s gotta be someplace still open and half edible around the block.”

You can tell he is trying his best to contain his expression and stay in control of the moment, but he's failing. Miserably.

His hazel eyes watery and nearly pleading, begging you to look at him and forgive him for being a total ass.

Looking him up and down, you hesitate. Maybe to make him sweat or to make him feel how you did all day, you weren’t sure.

“Wherever we go, I want hashbrowns.” You tear your eyes away from roman and click the button that would take you to the lobby. Immediately there is air in the elevator again, Roman’s pleading eyes vanishing. He always seemed to get his way with you.

[sideysvault]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ Drunkenly observing the city horizon with Roman ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Pairing: Roman Roy x friend!reader

Summary: Drunken conversations are always held at balconies. 507wc

Warnings: Foul language

────────

The city always held some kind of adventurous and allusive energy, even at night. And especially when you had too many glasses of wine.

Roman and you had decided to stay in and have a drink on his apartment’s balcony. It was the only spot on the property that you actually liked, probably because it was the only place where the liveliness of the outside world couldn’t be tucked far away. The town’s imperfections seeped into the sterile environment of the apartment, and the beautiful night sky was usually accompanied with a nice, cold breeze.

Both of you were drunkenly laying on the fancy railing of the balcony. You’ve been observing the city horizon for some time now. The conversation had quieted down, and a comfortable silence lingered between the two of you.

You turned to your friend and inquired in a whisper “Do you believe in anything, Romey?”

The man snorted. Taken aback by the sudden earnestness in your voice. He felt way too ditzy for this.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual: Death, and tax evasion, and that you are the most beautiful woman in the world. After Marcia, of course.”

She smiled. All teeth.

“I see. You are drunk drunk”

He whined. “Come on, you are such a fucking bitch. You know that?”

“And you are a sappy type of drunk. Good to know”

“Baby, I can practically snort my body weight”

“Yeah. Maybe in your twenties you could”

Laughter emerged from the duo. She loved to taunt him, on the other hand he liked the way she would bump her shoulder with his when she did it. And she particularly enjoyed the way his cocky smile looked.

Laughter was always a constant when you shared a space together. It was nice. More than nice.

However, from time to time, you would also enjoy moments of serene stillness. This had become one of them. You slowly enjoyed a cigarette with him. Waves of wind drew your hair away from your face and towards the air, your dress was also lifted just the slightest up your ass. Roman thought you looked perfect. But then, he immediately noticed the increasingly reddening cheeks and nose. He knew that you were starting to feel a bit cold.

“Do you believe in anything?” Roman had his arms closed, and you could sense some solemness behind the humorous remark.

But a stupid smile appeared on your face as you turned to face him again. “Oh, that you look like a matador and anyone would die to fuck you”

The woman gave him a playful theatrical kiss on the cheek. As she always did.

“Yeah, yeah, quoting me. Very nice. Now, let’s get inside before I actually start being into you”

Roman took off his suit jacket and put it on your shoulders. You looked at him with nothing but softness. Then, he hugged by the side as he gently kissed your temple. He wasn’t as bad as people said. Your hand laid on his chest. And he did not let go of you even as you two stumbled back to the apartment.

[irlplasticlamb]

drunk homosexual.

prints + merch + commission info

[romancanine]

I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died.

[danishprince]

kieran culkin post-finale interview with variety

[dinner-partys]

these type of characters >>>>>>>>>>>>>

[f1nalgirlz]

me when i see a headcannon about a character i like but i don’t agree with it

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

very briefly switching gears here folks bc I just watched Igby goes down and I am psychologically disturbed now. like the writers for roman? they watched that shit for SURE. the borderline oedipus complex? the becoming my father issues? the aimless younger child? the keep them laughing so they dont look too close? the desperate and random vulnerability follwed by the wall of pretending nothing happened? how often is he standing at a window on the precipice of change? the punching bag for his family? his REACTION TO A DEAD ABUSIVE PARENT???? the childlike reconciliation with sibling post parent death? being 'the one who got out'? I'm losing my mind.

[xxhypersomnia]

Welp.

Hollywood made that pretty clear didn't they....

[strang3lov3]

A Favor

You’re on your period and needy. Roman takes advantage. (4k)

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, unprotected piv, period sex, free bleeding, nipple stim and titty play, dirty talk, creampie, blow jobs, fingering, daddy kink, aftercare that healed something in me, needy reader, typical Roman sexism, weird mix of roman being manipulative and dominant and condescending but tender and soft all at the same time,,,don’t give me that look. Fic Help - @endlessthxxghts and @ovaryacted thanks for your eyeballs! A/N - Let’s just indulge ourselves, okay? Let’s have daddy romey do a little bit of manipulating and teasing before fucking us while we’re bleeding our guts out.

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

It’s midday and you’re finally showering. After lying in bed for a little too long, you did a workout in the home gym Roman had built for his home - just a little walking on the treadmill, some stretching too. You felt a little crappy, so you kept it light. You wash and condition your hair and then scrub your body, letting the hot, steady stream of water soothe all of your aches. After this, you’ll probably nap. It’s the perfect day for it, after all. Dark and overcast, a little rainy. You’ll waste the day away in bed, listening to the distant sound of What We Do In The Shadows playing quietly on your TV as you doze in and out of sleep. 

After shutting off the water, you reach for your towel and begin to dry off, squeezing the water out of your hair, patting beads of water off of your skin with the terry cloth. When you take the towel off of your body to hang back up, you notice splotches of red on the fabric where you dried the area between your thighs. Well, that explains why you’ve been feeling under the weather.

You look in the cabinet under your sink for a pad or tampon or something. You’ve got a hair dryer and a diffuser attachment that doesn’t match it, cleaning supplies, expired Bath & Body Works sprays, but no menstrual products, which makes sense. You tend to overbuy, thinking you won’t need to buy again for a while. And so you don’t, but you burn through supplies quicker than you ever anticipate. It’s not the first time this has happened.

You pause your shower playlist on Spotify and check your purse first - surely you’ve got some year-old tampon in there, probably covered in granola bar crumbs and melted lip balm. Nothing. You gave that last tampon to a stranger in a public bathroom last week. You call your mother next, but you’re met with no answer, leaving you with one last option: Roman. 

Do you really wanna call him right now while he’s at work? And have him make fun of you, or call you dramatic? Or worse yet, make some sick and perverted jokes? You’ve been trying to put distance between yourself and him, and the last thing you need is to invite any more opportunities for him to have his way with you. But then, what other choice do you have? You know that day one of your period you can’t exactly get away with a bunch of toilet paper rolled over the gusset of your panties. Your flow is way too heavy for that.

Your thumb hovers over his name in your phone as you contemplate the decision. You feel a warm rush of blood between your thighs, then quickly reach for the toilet paper to avoid a mess on the floor or another shower. Fuck it, you’ll call Roman. You press Roman’s name on your phone, flush your toilet paper and grab another towel, laying it out on your bed as you wait for him to pick up. 

“Hey, you.”

You hesitate before answering, “Um…hi,” Your voice shakes and wavers.

“Yeah, hi.” Roman picks up on your nervousness immediately and sounds concerned. “You sound - I don’t know. Is - is everything okay?” You hear him shutting what’s probably his office door. 

“Yeah, no. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“If everything’s fine, what are you calling me for, then?”

 You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I started my period and I don’t have any pads or tampons here at home.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Oh.”

“So what, you’re hoping I’ll come home from work just to bring you some?”

“…Kind of.” 

“Kind of…I see. Yeah, it just kind of sounds like a you problem, is the thing, though,” Roman murmurs in a teasing voice. He waits for your laugh, but he’s met with an awkward silence. “Kidding, I’m kidd- it’s a joke. You can laugh.”

“Don’t be weird.” 

“I’m not being weird. You’re we- you’re being weird.” 

You sigh. Leave it to Roman to make a phone call awkward and longer than it has to be. “Can you just come…” 

“Yeah, yeah. I was just about to go to lunch anyway. Do you have a preferred brand or flavor or–” 

“Gross, Roman. See? You’re being weird. Just pads. Regular fucking pads.” 

“I was gonna say ice cream if you’d have let me finish, you fuckin’ smartass. But I guess I’ll forget the Ben and Jerry’s, since you insist.”

“No, wait. Please. I want ice cream.” You feel a little bad for thinking the worst of Roman. He’s gonna get you ice cream? “Please,” you repeat.

“Nope. You’re shit out of luck, baby girl,” Roman says. “Ship has sailed.” 

“Please?”

Roman hums on the other end of the phone, pretending to contemplate. The act doesn’t last long, though. “Fuck you, you make me soft. What flavor?”

You smile. “Gimme S’mores.”

“Got it. Phish Food. Hang tight, I’ll be home soon.”

You chuckle after he hangs up. Asshole. 

After stopping at a CVS and picking up a basic box of pads and a variety pack of tampons, as well as making a special trip to find your Gimme S’mores Ben and Jerry’s at the Walgreen’s across the street, Roman comes home. He kicks off his shoes, then puts the ice cream in the freezer before heading upstairs, knees cracking as he walks up the steps. He knocks on your door, “It’s Roman. Your knight in shining armor.” 

“It’s open.” 

Roman opens the door and finds you in bed wrapped in a towel, lying on another towel as you bleed freely. “My stepdaughter, withering away into nothing in a pool of her own blood. How grotesque. You look like hell. Like- like, straight out of The Exorcist.” 

You roll your eyes. “Fuck off. I’m dying.” 

“Oh, always with the dramatics. You’re not gonna get any sympathy points from me, you know,” Roman says, lifting his brows as he points at you. “Not a one.” 

“Can you just put the stuff in my bathroom, Roman?” 

“So impatient,” Roman murmurs, walking into your bathroom where he opens the cabinet under the sink and tosses the bag inside. He comes back out to see you lying on your side, your towel stained and hiked up past your thighs, exposing just the slightest sliver of your bleeding pussy to him. He bites his lip and presses down on his half-hard erection.

Roman rounds the bed to look at your face all scrunched in pain, moaning softly. “Is it cramps?”

“Mhm.”

“And a headache, maybe?”

“Mhm. You’re the headache.” 

“Charming as always, sweetheart. Never change.”

Short hums are all you’re able to vocalize as the pain begins to worsen. It always works this way when you’re on your period. It’s nothing, then all the pain at once. 

“Wow. So you’re uh…really not feeling too hot, are you?” 

You shake your head slightly. “Mm-mm. No, I’m not.” 

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Roman says softly, reaching for you. He strokes your hair, rubs his thumb along your cheekbone. What he wouldn’t give to fuck you like this right now, all wet and bleeding and pliant. He’d make it all better. “Poor thing. What can I do?” 

You open your eyes and look up at Roman, who’s frowning in concern above you. “Are you serious? You wanna help?”

“I can’t promise I don’t have ulterior motives, but yeah. So put me to work, what can I do? Want me to kiss it all better?”

 His eyes are dark and hungry like they usually are when he looks at you, but there’s a gentleness to them, too. Roman’s rubbing his hand up and down your bare shoulder, the simple touch calming you. “Can you just be with me?” Your voice is more desperate than you want it to be when it comes out. 

“Just like, be with you? Like, you want me to lay down with you?” 

You nod. 

Roman’s heart swells a little. “Yeah, okay. Fuck it. I have a few minutes,” he says after a second, as if he had to think about the choice at all. “Move your ass. Fucking bed hog.”  

You scoot closer to the edge of the bed and Roman climbs over you, hushing your whines with an I know, I know, when his movements disrupt you. He pulls you close to himself, soft middle pressed against you, his body heat soothing the aching in your back. It catches Roman off guard when you unwrap your towel and take his hand, then press his palm flat against your tummy. Fuck it, you think. He’s seen it, felt it all anyway. 

Roman traces his fingertips over your soft belly, rubs you with gentle circles. “You like that?” he asks, “Does that help a little?” You hum in response, relief evident in your voice. “S’warm,” you mumble. “Feels nice.” 

How vulnerable you are right now. Roman’s seen you at your most vulnerable before, albeit forcefully. He loves taking what he wants from you but fuck, the way you’re giving himself over to him on a silver platter right now has him aroused in a way he’s not yet experienced. You belong to him; Roman’s made that undeniably clear and you’ve been obedient to that. But he wonders if without the obvious circumstances of the age gap and being tied through family, without the wrongness of it all, if maybe the relationship could be just as special. If it’d make him feel the same, feel that raw, animalistic power. Maybe you’d still be his to do with what he wants and there’d be no guilt, no anxiety. But then again, maybe the discomfort is what makes this what it is in the first place.  

Roman’s hand slides up, up your torso, between your breasts. He palms one of them and squeezes, loving the way your soft skin feels in his hand. You moan, and Roman squeezes harder. “Little sore here, huh?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” you answer. “But you don’t have t–”

“Don’t,” he says. “Just let me.” 

You sigh and resign yourself to his touch. The pressure hurts, but feels relieving too. Roman has a strength to his hands that you do not, and he’s able to work out all the soreness, melt it all away with just his fingertips. 

Roman peers over your shoulder as he massages your breasts. He watches your flesh move and billow beneath his fingers, he loves their softness and their warmth under his palm. Intentionally, Roman rubs his thumb across one of your nipples. You gasp his name and back into his body and god, he never gets tired of working you up like this. You sigh in more than just relief, but pleasure too. Good.  Roman licks his fingertips and circles your areolas, watching your nipples pebble into small peaks as your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. “Roman, Roman…I…” 

Quick and easy, you’re too easy for your own good. Roman loves the effect a little bit of his teasing has on you. “What’s that, huh? Are you moaning for me?” he taunts, like he’s not the one with his fingers gently twisting and pinching your nipples. 

“Roman,” you breathe as he continues his teasing.

“Spit it out, sweetheart. What are you trying to tell me?” 

“I d- I don’t know.”

“Bullshit. I think you do know, but you’re shy,” Roman purrs. “C’mon. Don’t beat around the bush, just tell me what you need. Use your big girl words and tell your daddy.” 

You’re always horny on your period, and you know what he’s doing to you is intentional, probably calculated too. He was probably stroking his cock on his way home thinking of doing this to you. Pulling your strings just to watch you move for him - and yet you fall for it all the same, what with your squirming and your moaning. But can you even ask for this? If it weren’t for Roman’s deliberate teasing, could you really ask for what you want? He’s taken what he wanted from you before, given you what you needed without your say in the matter. It feels unnatural to have a hand on the wheel with him, even if just for a brief second.

“You’re not getting out of this, baby girl, I know you want me to make you come. Just ask me,” Roman says, pulling on your shoulder to lay you flat on your back. He crawls on top of you, caging you in as he closes his lips around one of your nipples, his fingers working the other. “It’ll fix your cramps, too. Win-win.” 

“You’re - fuck - you’re full of shit, Roman.” You hold Roman’s head, tugging on his hair as his tongue flicks and swirls around your sensitive bud.

“Yeah, you’re right. Guilty,” he shrugs. Roman pulls away momentarily to shuck off his shirt and pants, tossing them on the floor. He’s back at your chest in an instant, the head of his swollen cock rubbing against your hip fills you with need. “Bet it’d still feel good though, huh?” You bite your lip and nod, unable to conjure the words. “Still not gonna say it, are you?” Roman waits for your answer, his eyebrows raised. “That’s fine,” he says, “But one of us is coming here and I guess that makes it me.”

Roman pulls you by your feet down the bed, then plays with his cock as he climbs up it, each of his knees on either side of your chest. He taps it against your breasts a couple of times and then moves up even further, his knees snugly fitting against your armpits. He leans over you and takes both of your wrists in his hands, then slides them up the mattress so that he’s got you pinned beneath him. With one hand holding your wrists together, he grips the base of his cock with the other. “Open your mouth.” 

You open your mouth and Roman taps his thick head against your tongue, then slides it toward the back of your throat, causing you to gag. “That’s it, yeah. Fuckin’ choke on it.” Roman reaches under his heavy balls and holds your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, forcing your lips to stay open for him. He pushes himself into your mouth just a little at first, pulling out before going further. In time, he finds a rhythm he likes. Roman holds both of your wrists again as his hips roll against your face, his warm balls bouncing against your chin as your nose is buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair. 

You breathe him in as he thrusts, his slim, soft belly touching your face. He smells like sweat but clean, too, and comforting. Your eyes close as you relish in the feeling of his hard cock on your tongue, the feel of each little ridge and vein. “Yeah, you’re good for this. Made for sucking my dick, aren’t you?” 

Roman pulls out of your mouth and watches a little string of saliva connecting his shaft and your lips break. He thrusts his hips forward so that his balls drag up your chin to rest between your lips, where you suck one into your mouth, then the other. Roman trails his cock down your cheeks before he shoves himself back down your throat unceremoniously. He folds his hands behind his head and groans long and guttural, drawing in and out of your mouth, savoring all of this - how powerful he feels right now, how pretty and helpless you look on your back and with his cock between your lips. 

Roman pulls out of your mouth for the last time and wraps his fist around his cock, pumping it furiously. “Fuck, I’m gonna - ohhh, god - this is your last chance, sweetheart, or I’m coming all over your face. Don’t you wanna come on my cock?”

You nod. 

“Then fucking ask for it.” 

Roman’s voice is low. He stares at you, eyes piercing and deadly serious. All charm, playfulness, affection - it’s all gone, and it sets you on fire. You’re panting, “Fuck - can I - oh, fuck -” 

“Get to the point.” 

You swallow thickly. “Can I come on your cock?”

“Oh, there it is.” Roman smiles, really, genuinely smiles. He thinks that like a young puppy, you don’t always know when the game ends. The way its mother bites its scruff, a stern reminder from Roman is all that’s needed to push you in the right direction. Poor baby. You’d be lost without him, all helpless and confused. “Yes. You may.”

He moves away from you so you have room, “Spread your legs,” he says, wrapping his hands around your ankles to part your thighs himself anyway. He fits himself in the space between them and pushes his middle and ring finger into your dripping hole, all the way to the knuckle so that you feel his wedding ring, cold against your hot skin. He curls his fingers up repeatedly, stroking that sensitive place inside you. You gasp when Roman presses down on your lower tummy, intensifying the feeling of it all. “I need you now, Roman,” you whine, “Now.” 

Roman pouts mockingly as he pulls his fingers away. “So needy all of a sudden, look at that. God, you are ornery.” 

You push Roman’s hand to the side and lift yourself off the bed a bit, then reach for his cock. It’s the first time you’ve ever really felt it; the weight of him in your palm, the satin-softness of his tip. “Please, daddy,” you whimper sweetly, stroking his length. 

Roman tilts his head back and inhales sharply through his perfect nose as you move your hand up and down. Daddy. The way you say the word never gets old, it’s special each time. Pathetic, needy, sweet. Just as much for him as it is for you. “Ohhhh, you fuckin’-” Roman lets out a breathless laugh, “You play dirty, kiddo. You and that daddy shit. You know what you’re fucking doing.” Roman shakes his head as you bite your lip and squeeze, giving him the gentlest of tugs to urge him closer. I need you. Now. Inside me. “I know, Jesus Christ. Daddy’s gonna make it better. Just like he always does, huh?” 

Roman pries your fingers from around his cock and lowers himself between your legs, hardly taking the time to fit his head in your entrance. He pushes himself inside you, the motion so swift and brutal that it has you gasping, choking on his name. You cling to his body, arms wrapped around his shoulders as he pulls out and peers down at the place where your bodies connect. His cock coated in blood, that same beautiful, crimson mess between your thighs. He slams in again and this time sets a pace, without waiting a single moment for you to adjust to his size. You wanted this, didn’t you?

As Roman rolls his hips into you, his strands of hair tickling your skin, you bury yourself in his neck and inhale his scent while nipping at his collarbones. Roman grunts, “You’re so fuck - fucking desperate, baby girl. You know I’m not going anywhere.” Roman adjusts himself, spreading your legs further apart. He keeps one hand on the back of your thigh, the other by your head as he fucks himself into you. He draws in and out, each rock of his hips into your warm, wet, bleeding pussy has him biting his bottom lip, fighting to keep it together. He could come right now and leave you on the bed, seeping a pretty, pinkish mixture of his spend and your own blood. But Roman’s just as addicted to your pleasure as he is his own. “Yeah, I got you,” he breathes, “Daddy’s here. I’m right here.” 

You whimper as Roman fills your cunt impossibly perfectly each time he thrusts. It’s hard and fast, the head of his cock rubs exactly where you need it to as you grip him tighter, your fingernails scratching up and down his back, leaving little dents in his skin. He’s so close to you right now, exactly where you need him. You take in all of it, committing every little detail to memory - the weight of his torso on yours, his hot skin, his flexing shoulders and biceps, the pleasure building deep in your gut. God, he smells so good and you can almost taste him. You still don’t know the feeling of his soft, pink lips, or his tongue mingling with your own, the feeling of his scruff scratching your cheeks. 

Roman lowers himself further so that he’s resting on his forearm. He wriggles his hand between your bodies and finds your clit, then rubs those tight circles against it. “Come for me,” he whispers as he thrusts. “Right now, sweetheart.” 

You’re there. You come hard on Roman’s cock, walls pulsing around him as you moan freely. Roman fucks you through your orgasm until those sweet noises of yours subside, until he’s drawn out every bit of pleasure from you that he could. He lets himself go then, emptying inside you as he moans, his hot breath tickling your ear. 

Roman pulls out of you, furthering the mess made on the towels. He’s not worried about it. He leaves you lying naked on the bed as he goes to the bathroom to dampen a washcloth with warm water, then returns to gently scrub your skin. He washes between your thighs, he turns you to the side to clean away the blood there, the action so profoundly intimate it sort of stuns you. Roman leaves the dirtied cloth on the towels and goes back to your bathroom to clean himself next, but first grabs a fresh pair of your underwear from the top dresser drawer. After washing his hands and his cock with soap and water, Roman fits one of the pads he bought you onto your panties. There’s a bit of your blood still in his wedding ring. 

Roman returns to you again, panties in hand. He puts one of your feet and then the other through each leg hole, then hikes them up your legs. “C’mon, lazy ass. Up.” he says, and you lift your hips for him to pull your panties on the rest of the way. “It’s like I have to do everything for you. There. That good? Did I do it right?” 

“Nope. It’s crooked.”

“Fuck off. I did good.”

You smile. Roman smiles too, then dresses himself. He draws your curtains shut, then pulls the dirtied towels from under your body, he’ll throw them in the washer downstairs. “Be good. Try not to bleed out or anything, I don’t know how it fuckin’ works,” he says, “I’ll see ya.”

“Wait-”  you grab his arm and toy with the fabric of his sleeves, fingers traveling lower until you’re holding his fingers. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah. Lunch break isn’t all day, so…” he trails off and laughs awkwardly. “What, you thought I’d-”

“I - sorry. Yeah. I just thought you’d stay with me. I thought you’d…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Roman’s heart breaks a little. You look disappointed, genuinely sad. A small part of him feels delighted; he knows you need him. You always have, and he’s known it this whole time. But you’re getting sloppy again, letting that facade begin to crumble. Letting whatever this is happen. 

“But you’re not gonna stay late tonight, right?” 

“Mmm. I might just have to, if this-” Roman holds your chin in his hands, “-is what I’m coming home to. A whining, bleeding mess…I might be better off in the office. Don’t feel like getting my head bit off, you know? I happen to like having it attached to the rest of–”

“Roman.”

“Chill. I’m fucking with you. I’ll be here and we’ll eat your Phish Food, hm?” Roman kisses your cheek, his lips lingering a little longer than they should. “Take a nap. You’ll feel better.” 

If you enjoyed, please reblog, leave me a comment, jump in my ask box ♡ your kind words go so far in keeping me motivated to write.

Tags -

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills @highinmiamili @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @/luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @/doll-0f-flesh

[wretchedgirlyboy]

my

my bff

[xanzilopterix]

"He did bad things"

Ok but he was sad 😭😢

He has ✨trauma✨

+ just a silly goofy guy

[irlplasticlamb]

i’m not a violent dog.

prints + merch + commission info

[danielsarmand]

SUCCESSION (2018-2023)

3.07 // 4.01

[its-fucking-tangerine]

I bet on losing dogs: Mitski

characters

kendall roy

gregory house

james wilson

roman roy

geralt of rivia

bruce wayne / batman

anakin skywalker

obi wan kenobi