#Kieran culkin characters

[strang3lov3]

Asleep

Roman can't sleep, so he fucks you to tire himself out. 2.6k Tags - it's a mixed bag today, guys. stepdaddy!roman, smut, somno kink, unprotected piv, roman roy jerking off, daddy kink, blowjobs, dirty talk, cunnilingus, creampie, comeplay, masturbation, does roman roy want to be your father or fuck you, both, general fucked up-ness, biting, bruising, alcoholic mom mentions, roman roy getting a little emotional and teary-eyed, mentions of roman's balls for that one anon who knows who they are A/N - howdy!! it's been a while since we've heard from stepdaddy but i've been on a somno kick and well, here we are. I planned for a stepdaddy somno fic to come later but I’ve outlined the rest of the series so…whoops. Anywho, i missed this weirdo so much and i hope you enjoy ♡ love ya love ya. Also this is like loosely proofread so if you see glaring issues, let a girl know 💀

Stepdaddy!Roman Masterlist

It’s so cold. You’re not sure what it is about your room in particular, but when it gets cold out, your bedroom seems to take the hardest hit. Roman won’t let you keep a space heater in there, citing your inability to ever blow out your scented candles or turn off your heat tools for your hair. He doesn’t trust you to not accidentally start a fire in his house. 

You cup your palms and bring them to your mouth, then blow hot air into the little space you create with your hands. It helps momentarily, but your toes are still numb. 

Sliding out of bed, you tiptoe out of your room and into the dark hallway. Next to your mother’s and Roman’s shared bedroom is a guest room, which is where Roman sleeps. Your mom spends a lot of nights on the couch, but sometimes she comes to bed and wakes Roman up in doing so, who already has a difficult time staying asleep. It’s just easier for him to have his own space, for a multitude of reasons. 

After opening the guest bedroom door, you find Roman sleeping on his side, moonlight casting a gentle glow on his pale skin. As you approach him, you see better his toned biceps, his soft and slim middle, how that curve deepens between his ribcage and his hips. The difference in width between his forearm and his wrist. Roman’s such a beautiful man. 

Carefully, quietly, you slip under his covers and inch yourself closer to him on the sheets until your tummy is pressed against his back. You wriggle your arms underneath his and tuck your feet between his legs, then squeeze him tight. Roman’s body heat soothes you immediately as you press your cheek against his bare shoulder. 

Reprieve is only momentary. A split second, maximum. Roman jolts awake, hissing at the feeling of your cold hands and feet on his warm body. He’s groggy and confused, and pushes you away frantically. He knows it’s you when you cuddle up to him again and he can smell you as you wrap your body around him once more. “Jesus Christ, kid. You’re fucking freezing, get away from me.”

“So cold,” you mumble, nuzzling closer to him. Roman’s on his back now, and you’re resting your head on his chest. You’d crawl inside his skin if you could. 

“It’s rude to invite yourself into people’s beds, do you know that? Or did you miss that memo.”

“Mhm, I missed that one,” you yawn. 

Roman chuckles. It’s sort of nice being woken up like this, by you, despite how unpleasant your cold extremities feel. Roman’s heart swells in his chest as he pulls you a little closer, pressing his nose against your hair. “C’mere and fucking give me these,” he huffs, taking your hands in both of his as he rubs them gently. “Before you give me frostbite.”

“I’m surprised it bothers you this much.” You wiggle your feet, rubbing them up and down on Roman’s legs to generate some friction. “I figured you’re so cold and heartless on the inside that you wouldn’t even notice.”

“Mm. That’s clever.”

Once Roman warms your hands enough, he lets them go and you wrap your arms around him again. Hands tucked under his torso, your head rising and falling a little with each of his rhythmic breaths. You’re curled up like a cat, soaking up all of him at this moment. The faint smell of his cologne and sweat, his warm breath on your skin. How soft he is. He’s tugged up your sleep shirt a bit, and his long fingers are now gently scratching up and down your back, soothing you right to sleep. 

“This is all I am to you, huh? Just a fuckin’...human radiator-pillow hybrid thing.”

“Mhm,” you answer on autopilot, farther from conscious than unconscious. Roman can hear in the way you’re breathing that you’re dead to the world. He chuckles again, smiling as he looks down at your sleeping form. He kisses your nose and your forehead, then traces your facial features with his free hand, smirking at how your nose crinkles and your brows knit together. Your pouty lips. If you were awake, you’d call him an asshole for tickling you. 

Roman puts two fingers on your chin, tilting your head back so he can kiss your lips. “Goodnight, baby girl.”

He just watches you. Watches and admires. He’ll go back to sleep in a few minutes, but for now, Roman savors the quiet, peaceful moment. You’re so limp, but clinging to him almost desperately. Roman knows it to be true by now, that you need him. Because you’re letting yourself need him, just like you used to. And inversely, Roman loves to feel needed by you. He feels valuable, he feels protective, masculine as he wraps his arms tighter around you. His arms are so much stronger when he uses them to hug you tight. 

It’s been a long, long time since you’ve slept with him like this. Curled around his body, limbs entangled. It used to be a somewhat regular occurrence. 

It started out when Roman would be going to bed, and as he walked past your bedroom he’d hear you whimpering and making other noises of distress. He’d let himself into your room to stop you from tossing and turning and thrashing, and then would hold you close as you babbled incoherently about your nightmare until you fell back asleep. Roman wonders if you remember that at all. It’s not like it was talked about.  

And there’d be moments similar when you were younger, you’d have a fight with your mom that’d leave you in tears. Awful, screaming fights, that even scared Roman a little. He’d listen to it happen, safe from a different floor or separated by doors and drywall. How scared you must’ve been. Your mom would be drunk and belligerent, aggressive. When you left, she’d follow. 

Roman always, always felt guilt for never sticking up for you. He carries that guilt even now. But when the screaming would end, and you’d tiptoe into your bedroom and cry alone, Roman would follow. He’d hold you close as you choked on your sobs, petting your hair. “You’re safe, you’re okay, kiddo. It’s just me and you,” he’d whisper, holding your trembling hand while he rubbed your palm with his thumb, pressing it into that little pad between your thumb and forefinger to try and soothe you. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. 

Pressure builds up behind Roman’s eyes as he recounts the memory, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks. “Jesus, fuck,” he whispers, wiping them away before they roll down his jaw and onto your forehead. He’s not gonna think about it anymore. He’s gonna go to sleep, holding you close and tight.

-

Hours have since passed. Maybe Roman’s gotten some sleep, but it’s hard to tell. Nothing real, at least. He lies awake, his skin damp from sweat. For someone so cold, you sure don’t absorb warmth very well. You seem to just insulate Roman’s own body heat. Roman scoots away from you to get some space, just a little, but you follow, and drape your thigh across his lap. As you move to get comfortable, you rub Roman’s crotch, his cock hardening in his boxer briefs. 

“Oh, gr- that’s great. Fucking fantastic,” Roman whispers, moving your thigh off of his body. It’s was only seconds and already he’s rock hard, all thanks to you. He presses his palm against his bulge in search of relief, but it only worsens the sensation. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…” 

Roman slips his hand beneath his briefs and pulls out his leaking cock, then spits in his palm and wraps his fingers around his length. He turns his head so that he can see you lying on your side, and hikes up your shirt, exposing your nude body. You’re not wearing any panties.

Roman watches you as he begins sliding his palm up and down, squeezing his fist tighter. Roman bites his lip as he thinks of you, thinks of being inside you. Fucking his hand is a means to an end, if only he could fuck you instead. Your mouth. Your cunt. 

Roman slides his thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting the wet, sticky precum that sits upon his slit as he fucks his fist. He breathes shakily and quietly as he works himself, a little moan slipping out here and there. With Roman’s other hand, he reaches into his briefs and cups his balls, squeezing them gently as he pumps his cock. “Look what you fuckin’ - God, you suck,” Roman grunts, then spits in his hand again. 

You pout, brows pinched together in annoyance as you grumble in your sleep. 

“Shh- be quiet. Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” Roman hushes you. He’s gotten a little carried away, and that’s what disturbed your slumber. Roman takes a deep breath and slows down, taking his time as he pumps his fist. It seems that the gentle, rhythmic shaking of the bed as Roman fucks himself rocks you back to a deep sleep. How fucking twisted…

…Yet it makes Roman harder all the same. And he tries, but his fist isn’t cutting it. Roman bends forward to tug his briefs off all the way, tossing them on the ground, then carefully shifts on the bed so that he’s kneeling right by your head. He adjusts you on the pillow, tilting your face just a little so that he can fit the head of his cock between your lips. “You gonna let daddy fuck that pretty mouth? Hm, baby girl?” 

Roman inches his cock into your mouth little by little. 

“You’re sleeping. And in my bed,” he adds. “So it’s not like you have much of a choice, do you?” 

With that, Roman buries his cock in your mouth, sliding it towards the back of your throat. You accept the intrusion so gracefully and with such ease, but a small part of Roman wishes he could watch your eyes widen as you choke on his cock, feel you gag and sputter on him. Roman will just have to make a mess of you himself. 

He pulls himself out of your mouth, his shaft soaked in your saliva and glistening under the soft glow of the moonlight peeking in through the window. He taps your cheek with the tip of his cock, dragging it from cheek to cheek, across your lips. He pushes it back inside, burying himself all the way so that his balls rest against your skin. Roman draws his hips back and forth, fist tangled in your hair as he fucks your mouth gently.  

But it’s not enough. 

He misses the warmth of your body, the feeling of your skin against his. Roman pulls out of your mouth and gently shifts you onto your back, then backs down the bed. He spreads your legs wide and fuck, he can fucking smell you. That sweet, musky arousal between your thighs, that scent Roman’s committed to memory and yet, nothing compares to experiencing it in the present moment. He pushes your knees back toward your chest slowly, little by little, until you’re laid out like a platter for him. You’d be so shy if you were awake right now, fighting against Roman to close your legs. It turns Roman on more, knowing that you have no say in how he sees you, how he fucks you. “I can do fucking whatever I want to you, huh?” he breathes, bending down so he can kiss your inner thighs. “Whatever I want. And you don’t know a thing.” 

He kisses your asshole, rimming the tight muscle with his tongue before dipping it inside, pulling it out again so he can kiss his way up your cunt. He nips and sucks at your slick folds, your arousal soaking his face. When his lips attach to your clit and he sucks in just the way he knows that makes you squirm in discomfort, tugging at his hair as you push and pull away from him. You breathe heavily, panting and whimpering in your sleep. “Yeah, you don’t like it when daddy kisses you like that when you’re awake,” he murmurs. “Sensitive fucking thing.” 

Roman licks you a while longer, tracing the beautiful shape of your pussy with his tongue. He presses his nose against your clit, rubbing it around in slow circles. With his fingers, Roman traces your lips, toying with your damp curls. He loves the way your pubic hair tickles his face, the softness of it when you let it grow out a little longer. 

After eating his fill, Roman kisses his way up your torso, taking care to lick and tease your nipples. He slots himself between your thighs, his face buried in your neck as he notches his tip inside your slick entrance. And with one slow slide, he fills you. You’re so fucking warm and wet and pliant, taking him so well. Roman braces himself with one hand above you, the other on your hip as he squeezes the flesh there. “You’re so nice to me when you’re sleeping,” he whispers. “Oh, fuck. You’re so good.” 

Roman sets a pace, softly biting your skin as he rolls his hips into you. Each of his thrusts, every rock of his hips into your warm, wet, cunt has him biting into you harder, bruising you. He kisses your lips as he fucks you, relishing in their softness. 

“Rome,” you whimper, voice thick with sleep. 

“Shh, you’re okay, kiddo” he breathes in between kisses, “Daddy’s here. It’s just me and you. I’m right here.” 

Roman keeps kissing you, leaving your lips a swollen mess as he buries himself over and over inside you. “Fuck - I love, oh, fuck.”

Roman savors the feeling of you beneath him like this, the specific warmth of your body, your skin and his skin together. Roman’s thrusting builds quicker, rolling his hips a little more frantically while still maintaining that gentleness needed to keep you asleep. The pressure’s building in his balls and deep in his gut, his cock achingly hard and rigid. He pulls you flush against himself as he finishes, moaning while painting your insides as he milks himself inside of you, his muscles tensing and relaxing. Roman lets himself fall limp on top of you, his cock still inside you pulsing with every beat of his heart. He commits all of it - all of this - to memory. The private, secret pleasure of being the only one with knowledge of this moment. When Roman’s ready, he pulls out of you, his spend dripping from your hole and onto his bedsheets. He kisses you one last time before settling next to you, pushing you onto your side so he can curl his body around yours. 

When you wake in the morning, Roman’s gone. There’s a faint smell of coffee in the air but it’s quiet, and you can assume Roman’s already left for work. You’re a dripping mess, likely from the dream you had. You don’t remember much - just sensations, the sound of panting, the feeling of pleasure between your thighs and the occasional picture of Roman. You spread your legs and reach for your cunt, tracing your folds. There’s a slight pain there, a feeling of sensitivity. Maybe you were grinding against Roman in your sleep. You waste no time, circling your clit with precision as you pump your own fingers inside your pussy, unknowingly fucking Roman’s come back into yourself as you come once, twice, three times. 

In your bathroom, you turn on your shower. You take off your shirt and in the mirror, catch a glimpse of darkened, damaged skin on your shoulder. You trace the curved mark, the bruise tender under your fingertips. 

-

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[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 by 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 dizzy 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

[xxhypersomnia]

Welp.

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

[wretchedgirlyboy]

my

my bff

[xanzilopterix]

"He did bad things"

Ok but he was sad 😭😢

He has ✨trauma✨

+ just a silly goofy guy

[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

[enigmaticvariation]

I am going to be chasing the high I felt watching succession week to week for the rest of my life I miss it so fucking much. I miss her so much my beautiful television wife......

[danielsarmand]

SUCCESSION (2018-2023)

3.07 // 4.01

[irlplasticlamb]

i’m not a violent dog.

prints + merch + commission info

[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

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