#roman Roy x reader smut

[strang3lov3]

a morsel or two or three, for the stepdaddy!roman lovers.

He’s thinking about that hug you gave him when he left early in the morning about a week ago. You were all sleepy but insisted upon waking up early to see him go. Roman hugged you tightly, savoring the way you just…melted in his arms. “What, are you gonna miss me or something?” he’d murmured softly in your ear. 

“Something,” you replied. 

He’s been texting you this whole time. You’ve been texting him. Playing iMessage games during his boring-ass meetings, competing to see who would beat the New York Times’ daily Wordle and Connections puzzles first. Roman texts you a picture of a little green lizard on the back of his hand, and you text him a picture of a goose and the bird-shit covered sidewalk you see while out and about.

-

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “Wait - what the fuck are we doing?”

“What?” you pant, “Rome–”

“We have FaceTime, for fuck’s sake,” Roman says, switching to that feature. Your screen changes then and it’s Roman’s gorgeous face splitting into a smile when he sees you. “There you are.” 

“Hi,” you giggle. You set one of your pillows down at the edge of the bed, then place your phone against it so Roman can get a full view of you. You’re wiggling your fingers under your panties, you fucking tease. 

“Ooh, good idea.” Roman does the same, then goes back to stroking his cock. He’s quieter than usual, not really focused on telling you exactly how to touch yourself. You thought that’s what you needed from him, but his presence is enough. Roman watches you in his little screen, dipping your fingers at your slick hole before dragging them up again to circle your clit. “Better?” he pants.

“No,” you breathe. “Doesn’t feel as good when I have to do it myself.”

Roman lets out a laugh, and god does he look fucking gorgeous like that. Legs spread, fucking his fist. Head thrown back against his pillow, wearing a smile as he moans freely. If you were with him - really with him - you’d see the pretty flush on his cheeks and chest. “You’re so fucking spoiled.” 

-

Like a dog, you wait by your window for Roman to come home. When his driver pulls up to the curb, you sprint down the stairs and past the kitchen, nearly tripping as you rush to greet him in the doorway. You nearly tackle him when you wrap him in the tightest hug you can muster, kissing his neck as many times as you can manage, running your hands down his back and arms. “Okay,” he laughs, toeing off his shoes, wobbling as you restrict his movement. “Yeah, it’s me. Daddy’s home or whatever. You gonna fuckin’ cream your pants?”

“Yes,” you answer, burying your face in his neck. He smells different, like laundry detergent he doesn’t usually use to wash his clothes with. 

“Give me a fucking second, Jesus Christ. I’m here. I’m not leaving ag–” You shut him up with a kiss that startles you both, so brazen in such an open space. “Watch it,” he warns, and your eyes widen.  He kisses you again, pinches your ass, and swallows your squeals of delight as he smiles against your lips. 

[muttsupreme]

LOVE YOUR FIC HOLY FUCK

you’re so good at getting bits in there of roman’s insecurities, i’m wondering how he would respond to attention/love being paid to his body, even just being completely undressed and on show feels like a lot for him

i always think of grace going in his bathroom, trying to unbutton his shirt and slacks as he gets dressed, and him making some shitty joke to get her out and away. i don’t think it’d be like that with someone he totally genuinely loved, though; almost kind of the opposite.

You’d unbutton his shirt, and it’d be in-office, a late night of you helping him do stupid stuff no one really cares about but his dad wants to know is done, and Roman knows exactly how to do it (almost like a test, as per usual). he’d be flirty, little comments of, “Your tits look real — perked,” he’d hold his hands out in front of his chest. “Is that a family trait or are you just special?”

It’d start out with him looking at you from across the room with those eyes that are less puppyish and more like a bad dog, like a sudden wave of confidence has overtaken him in response to you, in his office (maybe you even share one?), tip-tapping away on your laptop and teaching him shit he pretty much already knows, he just doesn’t like to show he knows it.

“Why don’t you do something actually useful? Like. Suck my dick maybe?” he jokes, mentally prodding at you with a lopsided grin.

“You serious or joking?”

There’s a long pause, a look of surprise, raised brows. “Do you want to?”

“Do you want me to?” you demand an answer.

“Since when do guys not want their dick sucked?” he jokes but he’s jittery, squirming, cock throbbing. You sigh, exhausted by his mind games, and walk over to his desk, sitting between his knees on the edge in front of his keyboard.

“Yes or no.”

“Yeah? Yes. Unbutton me?” he means his slacks, but your hands go for his shirt; he doesn’t scoot away, barely mumbles out, “Not what I meant, but sure, yeah, shirt off time.” He preens like a fucking peacock.

Once his shirt is unbuttoned, you lean down and straddle his lap. He’s awkward, fumbling with the hem of your skirt, making a shocked ‘oh! uhhh—’ noise. You kiss his neck and he leans in, he leans in when your tummy touches his through your clothes, the feeling of your bra through your top against his nipples.

“Ah — um, you don’t actually have to — I was just kidding. I’m not actually trying to rack up moral debt with HR,” he shifts his hips and he’s half-hard, eyes a little hazy.

“Hey, just focus on you. Chill out.” He doesn’t like that, he’s weird freaked out by the idea of ‘chilling out’ as you trail kisses down his chest and shoulders and arms (that he flexes, that you quickly massage to ease the muscles), his soft tummy (that he sucks in, but you can’t help but nuzzle into).

Unbuckling his belt is difficult. You’re hazy and kissing his navel and he slips his hands down to help, to unbuckle it for you, unbutton his pants as you reach to unzip them. Pulling them down, he’d lift his hips and his cock would tent his too-tight briefs an embarrassing amount for such little foreplay. He puts a hand over his face, plays around with covering his grimacing expressions, cringing both internally and externally.

“Shh. Come on, briefs next now. You okay with that?”

“Yes, fuck you, I’m okay with it, I’m fucking fantabulous, amazeballs,” he lifts his hips for you to tug his briefs down to his ankles where his slacks remain bunched up.

His cock is so pretty, his body, bare before you, is so handsome. One hand is at his side, low and just above his hip, kneading the soft skin, and the other is on his thigh. His hands are both fumbling with the fabric of his office desk chair, both scared to fucking death but anticipating your every touch. His whole brain is screaming to push you away but his body is wholly in control and demanding to be even closer, to feel every fucking touch and kiss seared into him.

He’s into it. He doesn’t necessarily like the worship, he sort of just can’t stop his dick from throbbing, and his heart feels all full and fucking fluttery.

You kiss his inner thighs and hips. He bucks his hips against your face like his instincts are telling him to hump you, but his lip is curled in a self-repulsed snarl. You decide to cave and dote on his cock, kissing the side chastely as if to soothe him, though you know it’ll do the exact opposite. He slaps it against your face, pre dripping on your skin, tip rubbing soft and sticky against the cushion of your cheek as you mouth at the underside.

“Soft,” he whimpers, a hand going into your hair, but you pull back. You look for a moment, just taking it all in. He squirms in front of you, brows furrowed, lips in a pitifully defensive snarl.

“Fuck are you doing, perving out?”

“Um, yes,” you retort. “You look nice. This is like my Playgirl.”

He scoffs, because it’s outrageous to him that he’s some fucking pin-up to you, naked with his pants around his ankles, squirming in his desk chair as you’re kneeled against his desk. It’s like a cruel joke is being played on him and his cheek twitches with a sardonic grin, his eyes rolling.

“You’re just fucking — queen bullshitter. Total horseshit-spewer.” His right hand tugs at the base of his cock, his left pulling you closer by the back of your head. You allow yourself to get pulled in, as you do in so many ways with him, and lean in even further when he slaps his cock against your cheek.

“No, you’re just an insecure asshole,” you retort with a grin and a kiss to his inner thigh.

“Oh, you’re such a suck-up,” his thigh twitches, then jumps when one of your hands goes to just feel it, like petting him, your other tracing up his calf. It’s slow, you’re so reverent in your movements that Roman knows he’s gonna fucking cry about this later on tonight and that humiliates him in the worst way, makes him mean.

“Don’t be a bitch, come on. Dick sucky-sucky? Or,” he trails off, spreading his thighs. “Maybe some other gross shit? Whatever you’ve got floating around in your Playgirl palace. Wanna suck my balls?”

“Rome,” you say, both sort of forcefully dragged from your sappy headspace and exasperated and a little shocked at him just fucking saying ‘wanna suck my balls’ as he sits naked in his office. Who the fuck even does that? Roman does.

“What? You don’t have to, I’m just saying it’s available. It’s a viable option,” he giggles, avoiding, deflecting, trying all that he can to pretend like this…whole thing, isn’t happening. Like it’s just a fantasy jerk-off scenario that you think he’s hot and are kneeling on the office floor against his desk, still in your work clothes. Like his office cameras aren’t literally catching every movement you both make and anyone could technically come in if they were in the office this late, however unlikely that may be.

“Yeah? Okay then,” you oblige, almost like trying to call his bluff. You lean down and he jolts at the feeling of your breath against his balls, hips tilting up. You kiss around at the base of his cock as one of your hands goes to rub soothing circles into his hip, the way he does on occasion when you’re asleep on your side and he just watches. Like a creep.

He lets out just a half-squeak when you suck one of his balls, your spare hand playing with his dick, not necessarily to get him off but more to feel the weight of it in your hands, to feel how warm it is and how it jerks excitedly as you try — fucking try to fit both of his balls in your mouth at once.

Eyes hazy and dick pressed against your face, balls in your mouth, Roman feels like his brain is slush. You move to kiss his knee when it jerks, popping off his balls with a wet smack.

“You’re so handsome. Beautiful baby,” you kiss up and down his cock, not sucking, just kissing, licking into the tip. He scoffs, rolling his eyes and throwing his head to the side as if to say ‘fuck you, what the fuck’.

You suckle just the tip, letting it leak into your mouth nice and slow and — he grunts, hips pushing upwards, pushing you down just a bit, needing just a little more. He feels you humming around his cock, and he’s fucking his rip deeper and deeper and he just — fuck, he has to blow soon.

“Throat or face?” he asks, and feels you mumble around him and thinks, maybe, you said throat, and has genuine intentions to do the exact opposite, to pull out last minute just to make you ache for it, but Christ, he cannot pull away.

He pushes a little deeper, a little over halfway down your throat, and when he pulls back a little, you suck just a bit harder at the tip and it just fucking spurts out. It drips out your mouth onto your lips just a little, dribbles out onto your tongue. He whimpers and whines little puppyish noises, things that sound like your name, mumbled, drawn-out curses.

“Ffffffuck you, dick-destroyer,” he says, softening dick falling out of your mouth begrudgingly. “You swallow? Show, show me,” he demands, squishing your cheeks as you poke out your tongue. “Good. Good ol’ girl, great job.”

He’s still twitchy and his thighs tingle, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he just blew his load or because your warm hands are caressing them, one slowly trailing up to rub his squishy tummy that flutters and — swarms with nausea. Fuck.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. So, next, you’re gonna give me full-body pics instead of just dick pics? So I can make my own Playgirl magazine?” you joke, making him groan and his knee jerk, eyes rolling again.

“You’re a succubus here to drain my balls. I’m serious, I’ve told you, but. Succubus,” he points at your face as you giggle.

“Yeah. Okay. Every time I suck your dick or compliment you, you say that,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him. He matches so well, knows the vibe so fucking well, slips his tongue into your mouth against yours, quickly turning a kiss into a sloppy make-out, his soft, wet dick still flopped out, balls still laying out against his desk chair.

So yeah, he fucking loves that worship shit, as much as he acts like he hates it. With Grace, sure, it was more pretending it was okay, and normal, and what ‘real people’ did, but with you, it’s sort of just embarrassing that someone like you wants to kiss him and suck his dick and be around him? Like the highest praise imaginable, so much that it must be total bullshit.

[cosmicwavelengths]

wip wednesday

“Shit, already? And I barely even touched you, whore,” he spits. Roman presses his longest fingers in, stretching you out and making you mewl loudly. Probing his fingers about, he massages your spongy walls anywhere but that spot. A firm hand on your lower back keeps you in place, preventing you from rocking into his thrusts. Your hands scramble for purchase against the expensive material, and you just barely begin to spasm around him before he pulls out, leaving you empty. Sharply exhaling, you relax into the couch, face falling into the cushion. Roman storts at your reaction before he slides back under your skirt, vibrator in hand. Pressing the small toy against your entrance, he slides in again, the stretch of the device making you whine out quietly. He wiggles the toy around to ensure it stays in place. “There ‘ya go!” He taps your thigh, signaling you to get up. Squirming around the intrusion, you roll your tights backup your legs, rising to stand contrapposto. Roman taps his phone, making the toy roar to life. Oh… now that… “This’ll be fun,” he muses with a teasing grin before shutting it off, leaving you breathless and wanting. “Trust me.”

[eeveebitches]

movie. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: Roman wants you to stop watching a movie and pay attention to him, so he goes about it the best way he can think of.

Word count: 1.812

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, oral sex (f receiving) praise kink, coming untouched/in pants

A/n: based on a request i got!! tysm for the inspo :)) my requests are also still open!

_______________________

You're watching a movie when he comes in.

Grin wide, eyes tired and hair messed up beyond relief. He jingles the spare keys you gave him in the air, spotting you on the couch. "Got in with our key," he says matter-of-factly as he throws his shoes off, walking over to you.

Ever since you gave Roman a spare key to your home, he's been visiting you with no warning. It's not the fact that he was growing co-dependent on your time that piqued your interest, though. It's always been how he refers to the key.

He used to just say 'the spare key', clearly tense as he struggled to find comfort in his intrusion. Then it became 'your key', which he said with the tiniest smile. When he started calling it 'my key' you would fight back a grin. He was clearly indulging himself with this.

What the implication of this new 'our key' situation is, you have no idea. Better to keep it unspoken, like you two usually do.

"What're you doing?" You only look away from the screen for a second to watch him walk over to you, before returning your attention to the screen. "Watching a movie," you tell him rather dryly. He lets out a huff, plopping himself next to you on the couch. "Well, I'm here now, so screw your movie." 

His hand shoots to snatch the TV remote away from you, but before he can do so, you yank it away. "The movie is almost done, just watch it with me or something," you mumble out, transfixed on the riveting plot in front of you.

"So what, your shitty B-roll movie trumps quality time with the number one bachelor of America?" You don't even respond this time, you simply keep your eyes on the movie. Roman groans, head dramatically falling back as he stares up into the ceiling. "What am I even supposed to do while you melt your brain with numbing media consumption?"

Again, no reply. Just a meager shrug. 

Roman, at first, wants to glare at you. Maybe smack your arm, then go to your kitchen and purposefully make a shit ton of noise, so you're forced to stand up and pay attention to him. But as he stares at you, he can't help but notice a small amount of red lace peaking from under your sweatpants.

Then a much better idea to get your attention pops up.

Wordlessly, he removes himself from the couch and instead kneels down in front of you, hands awkwardly resting on your thighs as he stares up at you. "Uhh, what're you doing, Romes?"

"G'na eat you out," he plainly tells you, lips twitching up into a smirk. "Roman, have you ever given anyone head?"

He shrugs, hands slowly pulling your sweatpants down. You do wanna finish this movie, but you're also curious to see where this goes, so you help him by slightly lifting yourself up, so he can properly remove them. "No, but I'm like Leonardo Davinci, naturally talented and amazingly hot. I can do this easily," he states with confidence that is clearly a facade.

Roman's pupils are dilated as he stares at your lacy red panties. His hands shake as he pushes your legs apart, giving him better access. You hum with intrigue, giving his hair a quick pet before yet again focusing yourself on the movie. "Whatever you say, Davinci."

You weren't expecting him to start out with a kiss atop of your underwear. It's awkward, yet sweet, which you reward with another stroke of his hair. The air is tense as he slowly moves your panties to the side, and ever-so-slowly, he dips in.

With a sharpened tongue he experimentally licks the inside of your folds. You shiver at the sensation, keeping your hand casually rested on his head. For a moment there's nothing, before Roman's head turns up to look at you.

You flush at the sight of him looking up from you like that, eyes wide and unknowing as he's kneeling in between your thighs. His obedience is like second nature to him, and in moments like these you revel in it.

"Can you, like, give me a tiny hint on what to do? Or else I'm just gonna bite your clit off," he huffs, face already reddened.

"Try flattening your tongue a bit, for one. Just take your time, Romes."

And that he does.

Carefully, he laps at your folds. Places his hands back on your thighs, keeping them open as his eyes flutter shut. Just as suddenly as he got on his knees for you, he places his entire mouth on you, roughly sucking on your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, hand clutching at his hair as he suctions onto you.

The groan he lets out as he tastes you is guttural, like he was a man starved and you were his last supper. As he removes himself from you with a sinful 'pop', he lets out an airy laugh. "Jesus, this is, uh... fuck," he whispers out before delving right back in, madly licking and sucking wherever he can reach.

He can't stop himself from letting one of his hands drop from your thighs, using it to palm at his growing hardness. "Shit Romes, you're doing good," you groan, struggling to pay attention to the movie when Roman's tongue is a single movement away from circling your clit.

"Only f'r you," he desperately gasps out, only taking a second to get air back before focusing his full attention on the small bundle of nerves he's finally located. He isn't as hesitant as you would've thought he'd be-- he wastes no time roughly sucking on your clit, shamelessly moaning as he feels you twitch and writhe from his touch.

"Fuck, you're doing so good baby, keep doing that." You grab a handful of his hair and forcefully pull him closer. He moans pathetically at the movement, at the way he's suffocating in your juices. 

The wet noises he's making are absolutely sinful, and if it wasn't for his relentless mouth you would've joked about his eating manners. His mouth and nose are shiny with your wetness, and he pays it no mind, drilling his tongue inside of you without a care in the world. "W'na please you," he moans against you, his own hips stuttering as he stops palming himself, cock painfully restrained in his dress pants.

"You're such a good boy for me, Roman, you're doing so fucking good." His eyes screw shut as he groans against your clit, the vibrations leaving you to gasp for air. It's all just too much, the pleasure combined with the desperate noises he's letting out sending you into cloud nine.

He whines at your every noise and your every word. It's like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, and when you yank at his hair he can't hold himself back. With a muffled groan he releases his load, only slightly faltering in his pace before continuing to practically torture your pussy.

"My sweet pup, eating me out so well, so proud of you," you moan with a fistful of his hair in your hand, only half-aware of Roman's own predicament. Your words of praise alone are overstimulating, but he can't stop himself from lapping up your juices.

He pulls away for a moment, gasping for air as he looks at you, face glistening.  "You're so fucking wet, I just w'na live here," he groans out, before roughly sucking on your clit.

You don't know if it's the hungry moans he keeps letting out or the blinding pleasure he's giving you that pushes you over the edge. Thousands of blinding white stars cover your vision as your entire body stiffens, a gargled moan escaping your throat as you push Roman's entire face into you one last time. 

He moans against your slick cunt, weakly lapping at you as you slowly come down. Even when you whine at the overstimulation of it all, he keeps at it, tongue busying itself with cleaning you up. For a moment you think you can even hear him gulp, whining as you try to pry him off of you.

Reluctantly, he pulls away, carrying a serene expression. With lidded eyes he looks up at you, and the question he asks almost makes you cum again on the spot.

"Did I do good for you?"

You let out an airy chuckle. "Yeah, you did."

Roman groans as he stands up, and only now you see the dark stain at the front of his pants. "Oh my god, did you?--"

"Shut up, yes." You giggle as he awkwardly stands up to place a small kiss on your lips. Your hand shoots to grab the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and you hum as you taste yourself on his tongue. He moans into your mouth, a sound you happily swallow before pulling away. "You did very good, Roman. Didn't realize you're a total perv for giving oral," you hum out as he waddles yo your bathroom. 

"And I didn't realize you were a total slut for it," he retorts, keeping the bathroom door open as you hear him shuffling out of his pants. "Where's my shit?" 

You pull your panties up, but simply remove your sweatpants, before walking over to your bedroom and quickly fishing out a fresh pair of pants, a shirt and some boxers for him. The amount of times he's made someone drop off fresh clothes for him to your apartment has caused an influx of items for him to wear when he's with you.

With a light grin you walk towards the bathroom, handing Roman his things as you sit on the closed toilet seat. "I'm happy you were able to enjoy yourself, too."

Roman shrugs. "Yeah, I mean, I ruined my fucking pants, but it was also fucking hot." 

"You win some, you lose some," you hum as you watch him remove his blouse and replace it with the shirt. "You should definitely let me do that again, by the way. Just-- ask whenever you want a real man to make you cum," he mumbles out, avoiding the eye contact you're trying to make with the mirror he's in front of. 

"You're just saying that because you're a total pussy-loving freak, aren't you?" He groans at your words as he finishes dressing himself, walking out of the bathroom with you in tow. You chuckle at the TV-- the credits are rolling. "Can you please not say kinky shit to me, my dick is in recovery mode right now, thanks."

The two of you plop onto the couch, legs tangling as you grab the remote and put on a show the two of you usually watch together. "Seriously though," Roman suddenly pipes up,

"you taste really good."

[jaebeomsbitch]

Jealousy Jealousy Smut Ver (R.R.)

Summary: Roman getting jealous after a waiter "flirted" with you turns into something more...Inspired by the Grace x Roman phone scene.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, degradation, lots of cursing, male masturbation, insecurity, mention of his ED

“So you have fun tonight?” Roman asks, undoing his tie

“Seriously?” You scoff, turning to look at him while placing your heels on the floor. He looks back at you already annoyed. 

“No because you were being a huge asshole but hey, what’s new?” You shrug, turning away from him and unzipping your dress. 

“Oh fuck off, you had fun. Certainly had fun flirting with that waiter,” he says, taking his dress shirt off. 

“Fuck you,” you reply, getting increasingly annoyed. Roman had been incredibly rude to the waitstaff today, giving you the cold shoulder. He got jealous when you had a simple conversation with one of the waiters who asked how your day was going. There was no flirting but Roman let his insecurities get the better of him.

“Yeah you fucking wish,” he mutters. 

“No you wish… or do you? I don’t fucking know at this point,” you say putting on one of his oversized T-shirt. 

“Yeah yeah you want to suck my cock,” he shrugs, grabbing his sleep clothes. 

“What’s wrong, Rome? Got a micro penis or something? Are you trying to hide some hideous deformation from me?” You taunt, anything to get him to just acknowledge the elephant in the room. Every time you tried to bring it up he’d just make a joke and try to change the topic.  You’d been dating for two years now, surely he’d be comfortable just talking about it. 

“I’ve got the most gorgeous cock. If you make a mold of it I guarantee Connor would buy one, better than fuckin’ Napoleon’s,” he quips, tugging on his sleep shirt. 

“I just want to see it,” you joke, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes.

“You’ve fuckin’ seen it, pretty sure you’ve got a whole folder of dick pics to blackmail me later with,” he laughs climbing into bed with you.

“That’s a photo, it doesn't count, the scale is off. Maybe put a quarter or something beside it next time. I’m not saying we have to fuck I just want to see it,” you say, turning to him and cuddling putting your hands under your head. 

“Just call your waiter if you want to see a cock. It might not be as impressionable as mine but it’ll make do in a pinch,” he nuzzles into the pillows, closing his eyes. 

“You know what… maybe I will,” you say reaching for your phone. His eyes whip open, watching your movements. He gapes as you turn your phone on then quickly yanking it out of your hand. 

“What the fuck?” You try to reach for it, he stretches his arm back. 

“No,” he simply says.

“No? Isn’t that what you wanted? You have a kink for being cucked or something? I’m just doing what you asked,” you shrug. 

“Oh fuck you! You know he’ll never be able to please you. You want to get fucked? Fine,” he says, unceremoniously detangling himself from the sheets, cursing under his breath. He climbs on top of you, pinning your hips down.

“Wait… Roman, are you a pervert? You want me to go fuck the waiter and tell you how much better his dick is?” You laugh, scanning his face. He stays quiet, he couldn’t stand the thought of someone else touching you. 

“Oh my god, you little fucking pervert. You’re disgusting,” your face turns a little more serious as his eyes turn half lidded. He seems almost dazed at your words… oh, he likes this. You break free from his grasp, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him down next to you. You straddle his hips now. 

“Look at you so fucking pathetic, you look so stupid right now,” you say looking down at him from the bridge of your nose. 

“Aww the spoiled little brat can’t even get his dick hard,” you taunt, hand on his chest as you lean forward. You get close to his face. 

“Is this what you want? Want to be treated like the piece of shit you are?” You ask, eyes flicking toward his lips. His chest rising faster in anticipation as he nods. You shift down his hips to give him more space until you feel the unexpected bulge in his sleep pants. This was entirely new.

“You’re already turned on? No doubt, since no one ever fucks you. Can’t find someone to give you want you want,” you say. 

“Take off your shirt,” you demand, leaning back on his thighs. 

“W-what?” He asks, he’d never taken his shirt off in front of you. Afraid you’d call him fat and he’d dive straight back into restricting his calories.

“Did I say you can talk? Disgusting perverts like you aren’t allowed to speak unless spoken to, understand?” You say, arms crossed. He tries to nod his head, his mind spinning at this new dynamic.

“I’m fucking talking to you idiot,” you lean forward, face centimeters away from his.

“Yes, yes I understand,” he stutters, reeling in the feeling of being out of control.

“Take it off,” you say, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. He hesitates, slowly sliding it up his torso before leaning up and yanking it off. He can’t even look at you, he shrinks into himself, arms across his torso trying to hide. You forcefully yank his arms to his side. 

“Fuck, Roman,” you say looking down at him. Scanning every piece of skin you see like it’s the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen. 

“What’s wrong?” He says, voice shaky.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” you peck him on the lips. He’s far from fucking gone. In all the reactions he imagined he’d received, this wasn’t one of them. 

“Good now, sit up and take your pants off,” you say, completely removing yourself from him. He misses your weight on him. He tries to ask why but you shut him down.

“God you’re not only a fucking sicko but you’re a moron too? Follow my fucking directions,” you say sitting down close to the edge of the bed. He scrambles to sit up, pulling at his pants off but keeping his boxers on. 

“Touch yourself,” you command, staring at him. You open his legs wider and sit in between his feet. You wanted to be close enough to see him but far enough so he can still have full control over the situation. If he said no you’d stop immediately but he slowly drops his palm to his bulge. Nudging at it like it’s something foreign. 

“Look at you, you’re so fucking disgusting. trying to hide your little cock from me. Put your hand in there, fucking pervert,” You hiss, gaining more comfortability in this dynamic. He looks up at you before sliding his hand in his boxers, sighing at the warmness of his hand. He only strokes himself with the tips of his fingers, head leaning back at the sensation. 

“You’re fucking pathetic, already whining and you haven’t even fully touched your cock. God you’re just a filthy little fucking pig,”you say, he’s panting as he finally grips himself. 

“You’re gonna finish in two seconds like a little virgin. You’re fucking revolting, look at you squirming like a worm. You’re just a disgusting little worm,” you say.

“Y-yeah, I am,” he says, maintaining eye contact. 

“What else are you, huh? A selfish spoiled little brat. A sick fucking pervert, you disgust me,” you sneer, his hips jolting as he’s feels the familiar feeling in his gut. 

“Yes, yes,” his voice breathier. Hand stroking faster as he’s practically fucking his hand.

“Cum in your fucking underwear, gonna make you sleep in ‘em. So you can be reminded all night how repulsive y’are, can’t even fuck your partner, gotta fuck your own hand like the fucking loser that you are” you finalize, his hips stuttering, eyes rolling to the back of his head. You can’t help but stare at the wet patch in his underwear. You take your time to study him, eyes roaming the expanse of his chest, the vein running up his neck after squeezing his jaw tight, and the way he pulls his hand out covered in his cum. 

You grab his hand, looking at the glistening cum on it and take a lick. He moans at the feeling of your warm tongue on his skin. It’s the first time you’ve touched him. 

“Finish it for me,” you hold his wrist to his bottom lip, smearing it with his cum. 

“Typical, always having me finish what you started,” he rolls his eyes, shuddering at your proximity before licking his hand clean, not taking his eyes off yours as you stare at his tongue working at his fingers.

“Good, let’s get to bed,” you say, crawling over your side of the bed. He looks at you dumbfounded. 

“What ‘bout you?” He slurs, tiredness catching up to him. 

“We’ll worry about me another day, c’mon” you motion for him to join you. 

He takes a second before getting under the sheets next to you. The pent up cum spilled all over his underwear, it sticks to his skin like glue, making a mess of himself. He snuggles into your chest pulling you close as he intertwines your legs. 

“Ugh, you’re disgusting. Your cum is getting all over my thigh,” you complain at the sticky feeling.

“Fuck off, you love it,” he sighs, nuzzling his head into your chest. He just knows he’s gonna have the best sleep of his life. You were the first person to understand Roman, you help him explore this new side of himself.

[deardjarin]

needs and wants

dom!gn!reader x sub!roman roy

rating: explicit

words: 1.3k

warnings: degradation, slight praise kink, hand jobs (m receiving), poor communication, iffy feelings about sex

a/n: im only about halfway through season 2 so my roman might be a little ooc, just ignore that lol. finished up episode 5 and said I CAN FIX HIM and wrote this.

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Roman looks wrecked at the end of the night.

He’s sweat out his gel, leaving his hair sticking out in different directions. His suit jacket has been discarded, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up.

There’s no denying it; you definitely have the hots for him.

Roman whistles as the apartment door shuts behind you with a soft click. He throws his wallet and keys on the granite countertop while you fumble taking your shoes off.

“Can we have sex?”

You stop, looking up from where you stand. Roman’s eyes are wide, brows raised in question.

“Wow, that’s very romantic,” You snort, striding forward to your partner. You let Roman take you into his arms, kissing down your neck and swaying you to the side. You kiss him, gentle at first, but he seems eager, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer. You make out for a while, until your legs are numb from standing.

“Actually,” Roman says between kisses. “What if we just…touched each other instead. Something lame that teenagers do.”

You smooth Roman’s hair back out of his eyes.

“That’s what you want, baby?” You mutter, tracing the line of his jaw with your finger.

“I think I was pretty clear—“

Roman yelps as you grab his wrist, pulling him towards the expensive leather couch. He scrambles to turn off the table lamp, plunging the living room into darkness. You sit down with a huff, spreading your legs and patting the space between them. Roman is all too eager to sit down, back towards you.

“That’s it, just lean back, Rome.”

Roman’s breath hitches slightly as he leans back against your chest, his body still tense with apprehension. You take some time to run your fingers over the exposed skin of his forearm. Your lips hover over the crease of his neck, not yet touching, but lightly ghosting over the skin there.

“Poor Roman Roy,” You begin, voice barely a whisper. “You have everything, yet no one knows how to take care of you. No one knows how to give you what you want.”

Roman whines your name, tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Can you just—I don’t know, get on with it already?” He grumbles, trying to be his demanding, asshole self. Quickly, you reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking the gelled strands harshly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t get to make demands anymore,” You hiss in his ear, pausing for a moment. “Brat.”

Roman’s mouth drops open in a soundless moan, his trembling hands scrambling at your thighs. You finally let your lips connect with his neck, biting and nipping at the skin there.

“If you want something, you’ll have to ask. Nicely,” You tug on his hair again for emphasis. You can tell Roman is trying to make up his mind, deciding between keeping up his facade or falling victim to your demands.

“I want you to touch me,” He finally says without an edge to his request.

“Mm,” You hum, moving one hand down to caress the clothed inner part of his thigh. You feel the muscle flex under your hand. “I need you to be more specific, Roman. Where do you want me to touch you?”

You wait as Roman swallows nervously, bouncing his leg up and down and up and down.

“My cock,” He whispers, his voice wavering with… embarrassment? “I want you to touch my cock. Please.”

In the darkness of the room, you smile devilishly before turning Roman’s face towards yours. You kiss him gently, reveling in the soft press of his lips against yours. He leans into your touch, desperate for more. Before you give him too much satisfaction, you pull away; your spit slick lips brush the shell of his ear.

“Good boy.”

You’re surprised Roman doesn’t explode in your arms right then and there; he makes a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a whimper. You release his hair, reaching around his torso to begin unbuckling his belt. His hips jolt when you accidentally brush against his raging hard-on.

“Unbutton your shirt for me, baby,” You order, not bothering to pull his belt from the loops of his jeans. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Y-yes, yeah, fuck,” Roman stammers, and for a second you expect some sort of honorific to fall out of his mouth. Hell, you should make him, but you don’t want to push it. You unbutton Roman’s slacks as he does the same with his dress shirt; you squeeze the thick length of his cock through his thin boxers. He moans loudly—unabashedly—and grabs your forearm.

“Pathetic,” You growl, taking the band of his boxers and tucking it under his balls. You hold out your hand expectantly. “Spit.”

“What?” Roman retorts, frozen against your touch.

“You heard me. Spit.”

His breaths are heavy as he purses his lips and spits in your hand. You hum in appreciation before wrapping your slick hand around his cock. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, already wet with precum.

“Rome,” You breathe, unable to contain the moan escaping from your throat. Roman thrusts up into your hand, whimpering your name. You stroke upwards, tightening your fist around the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Roman moans, and you feel him throb in your hand. “S’good.”

“I’m sure. For someone so needy, anything probably feels good,” You mutter as you continue jerking him off. You kiss his jaw, his stubble scraping your cheek.

“Fuck off,” Roman curses, yelping when you bite at his neck.

“I told you to be good,” You snap, removing your hand from his length completely. A string of curses spill from his lips as he grips your thighs.

“Look, I’m sorry, I am,” He insists, craning his neck so he can give you a messy kiss. Not one to deny your own satisfaction, you kiss him back. Roman pulls apart a few times to continue apologizing. “I’ll be good, I promise, just—I want to cum.”

Finally, you’ve gotten him to drop his bullshit persona.

“Roman Roy, using his words,” You coo, grasping his cock again, beginning to pump him at a faster pace. Roman moans loudly, digging his heels into the hardwood floor. All you can hear are the slick sounds of your hand on him and his moans. You use your free hand to grasp at his chest, pinching one of his nipples. You alternate between slow, tight strokes and squeezing the base of his cock. You take your thumb and tease the angry red head, pressing into his slit.

“Shit,” Roman hisses, squirming in your grasp. “Oh fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum. P-Please let me cum, m’not gonna last—“

“Cum for me, Roman, make a mess,” You demand, and Roman’s cock twitches one, twice, before spurting thick ropes of cum over your hand and across his chest. You continue pumping him through his orgasm until he mumbles something about being too sensitive. You kiss his cheek gently, letting him tuck his softening cock back into his pants. The two of you sit in silence for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of the city through the window. You’re about to make a comment, or move Roman so you can wash your hands, but you’re stopped when you hear the man sniffle.

“Woah, hey,” You say softly, using your clean hand to tilt Roman’s face towards yours. It’s hard to see, but the moonlight illuminates the tears streaked across his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a fucking pussy,” Roman snorts.

You don’t laugh, just shake your head sadly.

“Come on, Rome. I—“ You pause, fumbling over your words. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Last time I checked most men don’t cry like a fuckin’ baby the second they get some.”

You punch Roman in the shoulder lightly, huffing out a chuckle.

“I don’t care about most men. I like you, dumbass,” You say, brushing shoulders with the man.

“Never thought you stoop so low to sappiness,” Roman quips, his usual joking tone returning to his voice. “I have to piss.”

You tut lightly, watching him stumble off to the bathroom. Your heart pinches. You lean over and flick on the light.

[connor-r0y]

pls write roman roy smut idm what u write abt it just let ur mind run wild 💗

Intimacy of all kinds with Roman is a highly complicated affair. This isn't a secret, it's literally canon. On one hand, he desires closeness so desperately, but he's so scared of letting his walls down; I feel like it would take a very, very long time for him to let you in, even if you've been in a relationship for a while.

Actual penetrative sex is probably a no-go. At least not for a looooong time. Maybe someday. But for now, you're content to take what he is ready to give you; he appreciates your understanding - nobody's ever really got it. But you do, you get it, and he's beyond grateful.

I feel like the first time you're intimate together, it's probably some form of mutual masturbation.

You're in your room together, and he makes some offhanded sexual comment that was probably supposed to be a joke, but the tension in the room is palpable.

I'm a firm believer that though he's reluctant to accept affection, he's a big fan of kissing. So one thing leads to another, and you're making out - this is the furthest you've ever gotten with him, and you're drinking in every bit of it.

The way he makes soft noises when you nip at his bottom lip, leans into your touch when one of your hands comes to tangle in his hair. He's touchstarved, plain and simple, even if he denies it, even if he refuses to let himself indulge that side of him usually.

Your hands drift to the buttons of his dress shirt, and he politely sets a boundary. You totally understand, you back off.

"But we could like, you know..."

You have to make sure he's 100% sure; consent is so extremely important, and Roman is known to make impulsive decisions because he thinks they'll appease people. But once you've got confirmation that he's serious, that's all the encouragement that you need.

Pants are sloppily discarded on the plush carpet of your bedroom. His boxers join your underthings.

He holds your hand while you both take care of yourselves, but he can't look at you - though he wants to, he really does. But you understand. Baby steps.

You can't help but glance over at him, and he looks positively angelic like this - head tilted back against the pillows, eyes lightly shut, lips parted with heavy breath as he strokes himself. You can't help but think to yourself that the sight before you would have been worth waiting for no matter how long it took.

You squeeze his hand, and he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, a low moan bubbling up from his throat.

It's over far too quickly; you reach your peak, and the noises you're making are enough to push him over the edge too, spilling over his chest and stomach.

You both lay there for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling, chests heaving, fingers intertwined.

You're worried you've done something wrong when he wordlessly gets up and leaves the room, but he comes back a few minutes later, cleaned up, with a towel for you to do the same.

Once you're both clean, he lays back down with you. You think that'll be it for the night, that you won't say a word and that you'll go to sleep, but then he's pulling you against him, arms wrapping around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. The intimacy of it all makes your heart swell - the fact that he trusted you enough to go this far, that he didn't run when it was all said and done.

You loved him more than you could put into words, but somehow, deep down, you knew that he knew.

[nanabrainrot]

Perversion, Aversion [Pervert!Roman]

Roman needs a glimpse of you behind the mask, uncontrolled. He can imagine; there’s too many porn stars for none of them to resemble you.

WC: 654

Warning! NSFW content, mentions of pornography, masturbation, and Roman being creepy toward his assistant

You are reading Part I | Part II | Part III

Part I

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It’s because she looks like you.

The resemblance is enough to sate the imagination while not ruining his already trembling psychology, the last string of his strength to not buckle down and cry like a baby at your foot and plead for something. A kiss. A flash of your panties. Shit, your spit in his face would probably make him cum and cry in one shot.

But you’re so stiff, in all senses. Your languid and docile expressions eating him whole, the calm nonchalance of your face screwing in such brief stretches it only served to agitate him further. Every rare flicker of expression on your face fanned a sick fire: he wanted your reactions. It was stupid, with his fear of intimacy and your tame face, to think he could drive you to this porn star’s comical reactions but it’s enough.

The woman’s face is screwed in pleasure, the face perfectly aligned with the middle of his phone screen. Her nose is just like yours, the eyes just adjacent, and the skin tone a perfect match. The hair color the same but the length was stuck a little past her shoulders and more voluminous, thanks to all the curling and hairsprays that inevitably stuck it that way behind the scenes pre-porn shoot.

Your face would probably look like hers though: mouth ajar and eyes clenched shut with pleasure, brows knit. Panting, whining, groaning. Mascara all screwy around the eyes and dribbling down in streaks of black as she bounced on a man’s cock off camera - the scene was basically just her face at this point, eyeballing and capturing every reaction (true or false) in the chip of the camera to be broadcast to the thirtieth page of this porn website. It leaves him bucking into the palm of his hand still not free from his briefs and feeling pathetic as the realization sweeps over him after he ejaculates in his briefs: he had just cum to a splitting image of you.

-

No amount of teasing or taunting and poorly disguised lust made the tension any lighter. On his end at least. You lean over him, waves of a coconut perfume sweeping over his senses. It’s enough to make his eyes roll back, picturing his face shoved into the nape of your neck and pulling back to see that porn star’s expression: lips apart and basically drooling, mascara running, and chest heaving as you tried to breathe through the ripples of pleasure. It’s disturbing. “There, the email’s back. You’re welcome,” you huff plainly. Always plainly. Always monotone and uninterested; you didn’t even pretend that you wanted to be his assistant.

“Thanks, almost fucking shot this thing to shadow realm,” Roman scoffed, taking the mouse from your hand to start sifting through his other tabs - one of which was his history. Sifting through, the screen freezes: on his fucking history.

The breath catches in his throat as you stand back to your full height, a brow barely tilting up to simulate something close to curiosity or amusement. Your face is still stone, half-lidded eyes looking at the assortment of tabs: xnxx, xhamster, pornhub, xvideos, and then some. The searches all seemed to reflect traits that were similar to yours. Searches for your skin tone, hair length, and race flitted across the multiple websites’ history. You glance over.

“Just hit control, alt, delete, or turn it off again. It’s my lunch break,” you hum with amusement. So close to a smile, the way your lips twitch. That porn star kind of smiled like that in the cumshot at the end; it’s enough to make his dick twitch and the looming embarrassment seeping in. You breeze out the door, in that indifferent elegance very few women had.

“Probably wouldn’t have deleted that email if you weren’t flicking through every porn site you can, Roman,” you scoffed, barely hiding the grin as you leave the room.

The porn star is bookmarked on his phone.

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first roman roy x reader no one look at me 😭 hes so pathetically hot drop thirsts hcs or requests for him sry if my characterization is a mess 😔

[cum-a-calla]

erm… predatory/prey play with roman in the workplace……

everyone is gone, like the building is CLOSED closed. he tries to corner his assistant (because duh) and be like hey… what if you let me fuck you? and she just slips her heels off and just. books it.

it’s all in good fun, until it’s not. hopefully no one sees the security footage of him dragging her back into his office by her ankles.

and then he [redacted] her [redacted] until they [redacted]. goodbye 2024.

“I’m bored.”

“Try… I don’t know. Doing some of the paperwork we have to get through. We only have to be here until everything is looked over, signed, filed…” You sigh a long, frustrated sigh, leaning on the desk with your head in your hands. “Roman. You have to throw me a fuckin’ bone, here.” The hour runs so late that everyone else is gone on this floor, only the two of you left. You’re not tired, necessarily, just so utterly over all this paperwork.

Roman smirks at his place behind his desk, flicking his gaze to you from his computer screen. He lifts an eyebrow. “I could throw you a bone.”

A glare has him giggling to himself, that infuriatingly high little inward laugh he does when he’s feeling smug, or clever. It’s actually kind of attractive in an odd way… but so many things about Roman are. It pisses you off. He shouldn’t be allowed to be so smarmy and careless and just… look like that all the time. Roman’s eyes are on yours again and it becomes humiliatingly clear that you’ve just been staring at him, tracing the planes and lines of his handsome features. He turns a little, giving you his full attention now. Tracing his fingertip along some of the papers on his desk. Knowing you’ll watch.

“Oh… are you thinkin’ about it?” Roman licks the edge of his teeth, grinning. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you. I mean… nobody’s here, right?”

“Fuck off,” you say softly. A flush rises up your throat and you roll your eyes, ripping another sheet off the top of the stack to parse through it. “You wish.”

“No… no, I think you wish. I do.” Roman rises up from his chair and you’re forced to look up at him, hands freezing as you move to sign a report. “I think you give me those fuck-me eyes all the time. As if I don’t notice. Oh - don’t make that face. I notice, sweetheart. I know when I’m stuck inside somebody’s mind… stuck tight.”

You feel a strange sort of… something. Something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, just the way Roman’s standing up right now. Looming over his desk. Moving to walk around the edge. Out of pure instinct, you stand as well, palms on the surface as you rise up. Roman’s eyes are glittering, pupils wide and only getting wider.

“Roman…-”

“We should,” he says. “Fuck, I mean. You should let me bend you over this desk. Or… I mean, you could get down on your knees. I could get down on mine, whatever - equal opportunity fucking, right? I’m told I give some serious lip.”

He advances slowly, smoothly, like an animal as you edge toward the door. He’s smiling, but it’s not actually a smile at all. A wolf licking its chops. Your pulse quickens, a surge of adrenaline making your fingers tremble a little. Roman refuses to back down, his voice drawing lower, quieter, trying to hypnotize you like a cat with his words.

“Bad move, sweetheart. I can run. Probably had no idea, but all I did in fucking military school was get screamed at and run. I will catch you.”

Your breath catches in your throat and it’s then that the slice of fear starts mingling with something else, stomach doing flips. A spreading warmth seems to fill the basin of your hips, all that smoldering heat matching the fever-spots of flush in your cheeks. You slip off your heels, grateful for the carpeting - wearing thin tights might not fare so well on a hard, slippery floor while being chased. And that’s what this is, isn’t it? He’s going to chase you. A tiny shiver zips up your spine.

“I’m gunna give you a head start, just to level the -”

Before he can finish, you’re taking off. His laughter trails behind you, and after turning a corner in the endless rows of cubicles, you drop to your hands and knees and crawl, moving another couple rows over like that, holding your breath. There’s a manic thrill bouncing around inside your body, making you shake as you scuttle underneath a desk, both hands pressed over your own mouth. Somewhere nearby, there are soft, light scuffing sounds as he walks. Barely there, hard to discern. If he’s taken his shoes off, you’re fucked.

After a few agonizing minutes of trying to figure out his location by sound, he walks by. The sight of his legs walking away from you almost makes you gasp - almost. God, you can feel your pulse behind your fucking eyeballs. You inch forward little by little on your hands and knees on the carpet. Roman’s still slowly walking the other way. You rise up to a stand for only a fleeting moment before you stumble over your own goddamn feet, making a little sound as you land roughly on your hands and knees again. There’s a moment frozen in time in which you turn your head sharply to face Roman, and he looks behind his shoulder and sees you. There’s a flash of surprise on his face before he’s smirking, turning fully around, and you only make it a couple of steps before his fingers are digging into the collar of your shirt, yanking you back so that you fall down again, this time on your ass.

Limbs are pinwheeling for purchase - you twist in his grasp and he’s on top of you, laughing, practically panting with excitement. In a moment of blind panic, you slap him in the face and he reels a little. In that moment you scramble up and start running again, and he’s on your fucking heels. His laughter titters just behind you and it makes you giggle in return, giddy with the chase, with the weird combination of fear and arousal and anxiety making you throb. You throb everywhere - your pulse finds a loud, pounding home in the tip of your nose, your chest… your cunt.

Wheeling around a corner too fast, you trip again. Roman’s absolutely beside himself, laughing at you as he leans down and grabs your ankles.

“Hey, you really gave it your all,” he commends, voice dripping with derision. He flashes you a grin, all teeth as he starts dragging you backwards. You try to kick and wiggle, but Roman’s stronger than he looks - he has you in a solid grip, clucking his tongue at you. “No, none of that - you had your chances. I win, and I’m going to cum in your little cunt about it. Okay? That was the deal.”

Your skirt rides up and so does your blouse, everything coming untucked and rucking up. The carpet burns as he drags you across it, and you hiss as you squirm to escape it. Roman watches with a hint of amusement, uninterested in your struggle or your discomfort. He drags you all the way across the floor back to his office, and when you try to clutch at the door frame, Roman is swift to toss your legs to the side and take a step closer to kick it away. He finishes hauling you fully into the office and shuts the door, turning to you with his eyes all hooded and dark, cheeks red with excitement. The both of you tremble, the both of you utterly consumed by a manic sort of adrenaline high.

“Well, it’s not being bent over a desk, but - but I kinda like this better. More intimate, yeah? I get to watch you cum all over my cock. Lucky me - and lucky you,” he purrs, pushing your thighs open. When you lift yourself up on your elbows, he yanks your arms down by the wrists. “Dont. Give it up, honey - the struggle is really nice, don’t get me wrong. Cuuute, just fuckin’ cute as shit. But I’m getting impatient.”

He releases you to reach between your thighs, where he pulls at the fabric of your tights with both hands and rips them open down the center.

“Gotta invest in something that doesn’t get sold from a fuckin’ Walmart, babydoll. That was so easy it was barely fun.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Oh, you will.” Roman takes a moment to pull your underwear to the side. He runs his fingers along your slit, tracing the edges and folds of your pussy as he spreads it open, looking at it, barely teasing your clit. “You know how wet you are? Dripping. How fucking sad is that? Are you - oh, am I pissing you off? Making you all upset? You look like you wanna hit me. You wanna hit me again?”

You glare at him, opening your lips to say something about it when he laughs, shoving his fingers inside of you without warning, curling them, pumping them with a precision that has your glare dissolving. Moans take away all the words you had. Roman looks positively triumphant - he fucks them a little harder, a little faster, relishing the way you make those stupid, breathy sounds, the look on your face indistinguishable from pain. It excites him to think of that, too - hurting you a little.

“God, if you’re this fuckin’ whiny for my fingers, you’re really gunna love what comes next,” he murmurs.

Then you do slap him - but it can barely be called a slap at all. The impulse comes, you run with it in the heat of the moment, and a second too late you pull the slap a little and it barely registers. He blinks a little in surprise, fingers paused in their rhythm. He fucks them into you even harder as his eyes bore into yours, that delicate, angry vein showing on his forehead. His free hands rests on your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there. Keeping you spread.

“Not great,” he deadpans. “Try it again. This time, do it like you give a fuck about doing something right for once.”

You can do that. You can do that very well, and the crack of your open palm against the same cheek stings your hand. The flush to his face is immediate, and his eyes look black as he yanks his fingers out of your body again and he slaps you back with the same hand. He smiles as he watches you wipe your own cum off your cheek, tears welling up in your lashes. He tilts his head and pouts a little, undoing his slacks and pushing them down his hips. His cock bounces free, and the sight of it catches you completely off guard. It’s not that you’d ever had an expectation, or a particularly specific thought as to his size, but he is surprisingly thick. Long. His smooth, rippled cockflesh laced with veins. He grins, stroking it once or twice, and fuck, it looks gorgeous in his fingers like that as he teases himself.

“Yeah, I mean… at least I didn’t slap you with this, right? You wouldn’t even be conscious for what I’m about to do to you. But, you know… maybe another time.”

“Roman, seriously - you’re gunna have to… you know, take it - take it easy, okay?”

Roman’s eyes get absolutely dreamy, shining in the dimmed light and hooded by his lovely, low eyelids, wet lips parted as he crawls up over you. He leans in and lowers down until he can brush his lips just barely against yours, more a tease than anything else. He tilts his head and licks a wet stripe from the edge of your jaw up to your cheekbone, planting a wet, sloppy kiss there.

“Don’t you worry about that.” He reaches between your bodies and runs the fat, leaking head of his cock along your slit, slowly, up and down, back again. Every couple passes, he pushes the tip deliciously against your hole, rocking there but only barely. There’s a crease between his focused brows when he lifts to watch your expression, moving to keep your gaze even when you get embarrassed. “Look at you, all fuckin’ wriggly and full of shame. You getting desperate, sweetheart? Yeah? Wanna ask me for it?”

“Roman…”

“Mhmm?” Roman nuzzles playfully into your neck and nips at your throat, once, twice, a third time - this time hard enough to make you whine in that adorable way, your hips twitching. He chooses this moment to work more of himself in - only maybe an inch, just a little further, where he rocks infuriatingly slow again as he sucks a deep, dark bruise into your skin. He can’t wait to see what you do with that tomorrow - how you’re going to cover it up. But he’ll know. He’ll know it’s there. “Hey - go ahead. Ask for what you want.”

“Can you.. uh,” you mumble, nerves crashing under the sheer overload of sensation, of throbbing need. God, the entire fucking thing - the fear, the chase, the force, Roman being an insatiable goddamn beast hellbent on destroying you; it’s enough to melt your brain. But if finding a few more words is all that stands between you and the rest, then… “Can you please give me… more?”

“More of my cock?” Roman starts edging more of himself inside, a smooth, slow rolling of his hips, undulating. Each little thrust brings him closer to home, and you’re gasping. He fastens his lips to a new spot on your neck, at the juncture of your shoulder. “Just trying to take it easy, right? Be patient - you’ll get it all, honey.”

Finally, he’s worked himself balls-deep. He rolls so softly, so very tenderly against your cervix, the tip of his thick cock kissing against it over and over in a maddeningly erotic tease. Is it still a tease if there’s no room left to fuck into? He pushes your thighs open and lifts himself up a little, looking down at you. His cheeks are as flushed as yours. You’ve never noticed just how many freckles he has over his cheeks and nose, how they dot him delicately like a surreal expanse of dark stars in a pink sky.

“Touch yourself. Make yourself cum, just like this.”

Zero hesitation - you push your hand down between your thighs, between your bodies, and expertly circle your clit with your fingers. The natural clench against the stretch of him feels otherworldly. The bright, electric sensation of stimulation on the soft cusp of your cervix adds an entirely new layer to it; it’s sharp, but pleasantly so. You sneak a peek between your bodies at the way he rolls his hips, down to where he only slightly moves in and out of you. He keeps you impossibly full. You let your head fall back down and catch his smug lips, the way he licks them.

“Fuck… I’m close,” you whine.

“I know… I know.” God, he almost sounds kind. If you weren’t looking directly at him, you’d believe it. “Do it for me. You’re this tight already… I wanna know what it feels like to have your perfect little pussy milk me dry. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to empty my fucking balls into you, you know that?”

“Oh - fucking…- shit-” Your entire body seems to seize up, and all that molten, coiled tension melts in a series of devastating waves, pulsating, rushing from behind your eyes all the way down to your toes as he continues to rock into you like that through the crash of your orgasm. His breathing gets erratic and he’s leaning down to lick at your throat. After you move your hand to cling to him, he starts to really fuck into you, rearing back just to slam his cock back inside. Suddenly you’re skating on the shockwave of a brand new explosion of pleasure as he sees fit to set a punishing new pace. The curve of his cock finally tends to all those barely-touched nerves in his full, brutal strokes, balls audibly slapping against your body.

“Yeah - keep fucking cumming. It’s okay, I know - it’s a lot to take. You’re doing so good - look at you. Like you were made to take my cock, huh, baby? I’m gunna fill you up, okay? You ready?” His voice is drawn high, soothing, making your head spin as you try to fit the tone of his voice with the sly, mean smirk on his lips. He reaches a hand up and presses his fingers against your lips, sliding two of them over your tongue. “Good girl - good fucking girl.”

The feeling of your lips and tongue on his fingers, the sounds you make, the way you keep clenching around him - it’s the perfect storm. His hips falter at the same time his moans do, and his cock is pulsing inside of you. He pushes deep, fingers matching as they wander toward the back of your throat until you whine, gagging, grabbing at his wrist to stop him. Your teeth scrape his knuckles and he shudders as he moans, rutting his hips in time with each thick spurt of his cum. There’s a wonderful sort of haze where both of your bodies are coming down, muscles relaxing. The beginning of the afterglow. Roman removes his fingers as his body stills, dick softening inside of you. He sticks those fingers into his own mouth without even thinking about it, tasting you, your saliva. Finally he separates from your body and pats the inside of your thigh, giving it a strangely affectionate squeeze. It feels more intimate than everything else you’ve done, in some weird way: the way he didn’t look at you when sucking your saliva off his fingers, the tenderness of the squeeze. Those things go quietly inside of you, somewhere else to peruse later. Things Roman wouldn’t really want you to have; accidental gifts.

“That was…” you trail off, exhaling hard to convey your feelings. You laugh a little bit, a bit of tension releasing as you do. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that… you can just call me Roman Roy,” he cracks, smiling wryly. He sighs and pulls himself together, running a hand through his mussed hair before it falls right back into his eyes. “I know, I know. Big ol’ fuckin’ hog, devilishly handsome, and hilarious? I’m the entire goddamn package.”

“Don’t forget filthy rich.”

Roman shakes his head and bows slightly to you, hand outstretched as if giving you the floor. “And filthy rich. If I could just fuck and marry myself, I would. Now, uh… is your back okay? Got a little… scraped up, yeah? You need some, like, Neosporin or some shit?”

“Yeah, in fact - could you also bring me some Mickey Mouse bandaids, maybe a lollipop? Some stickers? I’m fine, Roman… thanks, though.”

“Show you a fuckin’ lollipop,” Roman mutters, running his hands over his face. He snaps his fingers, fidgety, gesturing toward the door. “Come on, let’s get the fuck outta here. Fuck the papers. I’ll make somebody else finish it tomorrow. I don’t care. Romey tired.”

Roman places a chaste hand at the base of your spine, guiding you through the doors to end the evening. There’s a comfortable silence as you separate, Roman heading for his car while you go off to your own apartment in the opposite direction. Closer to arriving home, your phone dings. Roman’s name shows up and you ignore the tiny wisp of a thrill in your gut at seeing his name there inside your phone, not having reached out first.

Overtime required tomorrow. My shopper will have new tights for you - you’re welcome. Make it worth it. -R

[senselessviolets]

being roman roy’s personal assistant (and his obsession) would include…

Rating M

WARNINGS:

Language, sexual tension, degradation, power imbalance, Roman being Roman weird.

Author's Notes:

Pretty self-explanatory. No uses of Y/N. Some brief RomanGerri. Very much inspired by @nanabrainrot's fic series with Pervert!Roman because it's divineeee. Highly recommend it!!

Roman never saw himself as the type to have an assistant. In fact, he was the only one of the Roy siblings to not have one. Kendall, of course, had Jess, Shiv had Sarah, and even though Connor never liked to bring it up out of fear of making him seem less earnest and hardworking to his supporters, he too had a “yes man” managing his personal affairs for him. 

It was following the Hungary company retreat that Gerri offered to set Roman up with an assistant. She knew of a trusted agency that would be able to help him narrow down candidates and find a person best suited for his needs. 

That person just so happened to be you. 

Roman absolutely wolf-whistled at the picture attached to your portfolio when thumbing through the candidates he was matched with through the agency. Gerri made him promise not to make any untoward or inappropriate comments to you during your interview for the job. Roman saw it as a ‘woman thing’ but Gerri being legal counsel saw it as a nightmare waiting to happen.

Upon meeting with you and the hiring manager, Roman scoured the internet for any information on you. Even though all of the important need-to-know info could be found on your resume or your fucking LinkedIn profile—that wasn’t enough for him. 

He tore through all of your public social media accounts, saving any particularly flattering images of you (swimsuit pictures, nightclub outings, etc.) and examining them throughout the day.

Suffice it to say, you got the job.

At first, Roman doesn’t know what to make of you. He sits you at a small desk on the opposite side of his own in his office.

Personality and demeanor-wise you’re in line with what he had wanted. Physically, he was already well-acquainted with your curves and the way certain types of clothes clung to your body. 

In the long stretches of silence of you two working in the same room, he imagined briefly what you looked like underneath your clothes. 

At home when it was just him and his right hand, he imagined what it’d be like to tear them off and leave them in tatters on the floor.

The better you get to know each other, the bigger his private album devoted to images of you grows.

Roman starts to pry into your personal life, asking if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Then he makes random passes at you throughout the day. Having worked with a wide array of smarmy, gross men in the past—you were hardly phased. Because a part of you sees through the facade. You know he just wants to rile you up—to get a reaction out of you.

You realize after a while that he wants you to be repulsed by him. 

This incites something within you.

Roman starts dragging you to one-on-ones with investors and having you sit in on board meetings, much to the annoyance of many.

Shiv tells you (jokingly) to run before you wind up being chased down the hallways with a chainsaw. 

While waiting together outside of a rather important meeting with many high-level executives, Greg informs you of a rumor that Roman has a dick pic circulating the office. But that in particular—he had meant to send it to you. 

You don’t know how to feel.  

These forced attendances at random meetings turn into becoming his designated armpiece for public events and parties. 

At one of them, Stewy taunts Roman, saying you’re not the only woman he pays to touch him. 

You laugh loudly at this joke which surprises them both. You crack a few of your own at Roman’s expense. Some are based on fiction, the others in fact. The shame floods his cheeks but the way he grips tighter at your waist tells you to keep going. To get meaner. So you do. You get a lot meaner.

Roman’s jaw clenches for a moment. Then his lips part. You convince yourself it's just a buzz from the drinks you’ve just had; that you did not just shit-talk your boss into arousal. 

But the clumsy way Roman adjusts his stance, the subtle outline of something forming at the front of his pants, and how he excuses himself to the bathroom says otherwise.

The text you receive moments later from his number confirms this; “You know what you did, you fucking bitch.”.

It’s your direct reply to that message though that makes his breath hitch; 

“Show me then, you sick fuck.”

{ Feedback is welcome! }

Follow me on twt: @endlessviolets

<3

[beegomess]

You Haven’t Seen My Man || Kendall Roy

Summary: Being Kendall Roy's wife involves giving up some things. However, working with you involves understanding that sometimes you may end up drawing more attention than he would like. But this is not really a problem for someone who loves to prove to be powerful all the time. Warnings: Cute, spicy with hints of implicit control - Word count: 8.3k

You were married now, but the story that united you was far from conventional or romantic. His brother and Kendall met in a rehabilitation clinic, sharing not only the fight against addiction, but also the weight of being heirs always pressured to prove their worth. The friendship between them was natural, and you, as a frequent visitor, became part of that bond. At the time, she hid that she worked as a legal advisor at Waystar, aware that the connection with the Roys could complicate things.

When both were discharged, you organized a celebration. It was that night that you and Kendall began to get closer. What seemed like an unpretentious friendship evolved into something more. You have become colleagues, friends and, finally, boyfriends. They were difficult years, marked by relapses of both and by Kendall's constant effort to get back up. Despite this, you remained together, supporting each other.

But the night Kendall asked you to marry him brought a devastating turn. You left dinner overflowing with joy to tell your brother the news, but you found him unconscious in your apartment. The overdose was fatal. What should be a new beginning also became the end of an important part of his life.

The devastating loss increased the pressure of your father, who wanted you to take on the role of CEO of the family business, something you always avoided. He also showed support for his marriage to Kendall, but his real intentions involved uniting families to strengthen his power, which filled her with revolt. Since then, you have kept your distance from your family, although his pressure has never ceased.

Kendall remained by your side, putting her own pain aside to help you get through the grief. Although the loss has never been completely overcome, it has become more bearable in the company of someone who understood the weight of carrying difficult memories.

When they got married, the lives of both fit in a surprisingly quiet way, considering the chaos that surrounded them. You chose to stay out of the power dispute at Waystar, which helped maintain the balance between work and marriage. Still, working under the same roof, with Kendall technically as his boss, brought challenges. Some tensions inevitably overflowed to domestic life, but you learned how to deal with it.

That morning was a perfect example of the controlled chaos that you and Kendall had learned to master. Since Logan's death, Waystar had become an arena of constantly burning egos, with Kendall, Shiv and Roman competing to make decisions while sewing the deal with Lukas Matsson. For you, the frenetic pace was nothing new. But that day, it seemed that everything was amplified.

Kendall had left early, leaving you with some precious minutes in bed that, although comforting, ended up devoured by the avalanche of messages and notifications on her cell phone. When he arrived at the office, he was already one step behind, and this did not go unnoticed. He didn't even have time to spend in Roman's room, where he and Lukas were gathered. Not that you wanted to get more involved than necessary - your role there was more strategic, and you knew exactly when to withdraw and when to act.

While packing the pile of papers I would need to discuss with Kendall, the phone on his desk vibrated. It was a message from him with a typical urgency. You sighed, already gathering what you needed, while answering a call from an external lawyer who seemed unable to understand something simple.

The heels of your shoes hit rhythmically against the carpet as you crossed the corridor. The sound echoed in the open spaces of the floor, a clear sign of his haste. In that environment, everyone seemed to be always watching each other, like animals in a corporate zoo.

When passing through Roman's room, he noticed Lukas gesturing at a glance, but did not pay attention. It was no news that he was there. Inside, Lukas interrupted the sentence itself when you passed, his eyes fixed on you long enough for Roman to notice.

- When I buy all this shit, will I have assistants like her? - Lukas shot, a cheeky smile curling his lips as his gaze lingered in the direction where you had just disappeared. The malicious insinuation was clear in every word.

Roman swallowed dryly, the discomfort evident in his expression. I knew Lukas well enough to know that giving any information would only increase his interest. But I couldn't just ignore it either. He needed to stop talking.

- Man, trust me, you wouldn't handle her. - Roman said, launching his typical mixture of humor and sarcasm. - She sees beyond the walls. You probably already know what you think before you open your mouth. It's fucking scary.

Lukas let out a short laugh, but Roman's comment didn't totally disarm him. His thoughts were still stuck in the image of you crossing the office, his hips moving with a grace that seemed almost calculated.

He knew he shouldn't be distracted, not at that moment, but something in you bothered him. It wasn't just the appearance - it was the aura of control, of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

As Lukas turned his attention to the meeting, the malicious smile did not completely disappear. Maybe it was an exaggeration, maybe he was just bored. Or maybe there was something in you that challenged you, without you even knowing it.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to any look that could be cast in your direction. Your mind was too busy with professional issues, and on the personal side, Kendall, although consumed by the obsession with being a CEO, found ways to devote to you all the attention she needed - and sometimes even a little more. He knew how to balance the two worlds when necessary, a trait that you secretly admired in him.

That same day, something not so unusual was about to happen. At work, you always maintained an impeccable posture. Seriousness and professionalism were practically their business cards. You knew the dangers of giving room to gossip or distractions in the corporate environment. But no matter how much I tried to keep things strictly professional, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the magnetic tension between the two of you. He had a unique talent for making you lower your guard, especially when Waystar's building was almost empty.

The day was exhausting and long, a whirlwind of words and numbers that seemed to dance in front of you from the moment you passed by Waystar's concierge. Now, with the floor almost empty and the sky outside dipped in darkness, you and Kendall were sitting side by side on the couch in your living room, trying to decipher the last barrier of a problematic contract.

Kendall's suit had already been abandoned hours ago, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were folded up to the forearms. He was more comfortable. You had also abandoned any formality: the heels were dropped near the sofa, the blazer had disappeared at some point in the day, and you now settled with your legs bent under you, in an almost intimate position, reflecting the tiredness and comfort you felt next to him.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of fingers occasionally typing on the notebook keyboard and exhausted sighs. It was Kendall who broke the cycle, rubbing her face with her hands and leaning back on the couch with a heavy sigh, the frustration evident.

You observed the movement, the way he seemed more vulnerable at that moment, and made the decision to end the torture that you yourselves were imposing. With a decisive gesture, you closed the two notebooks in front of you and organized the papers in an improvised pile.

- I think we've done enough for today. - His voice was low, but he had a quiet determination that he didn't dispute.

When you leaned over to reach the table, your skirt went up a few centimeters more, exposing parts of your skin. Despite the evident tiredness, Kendall's gaze automatically slid to you, a spark of interest lighting up in your eyes. He didn't say anything, but the smile that began to play on his lips delivered him.

You leaned back on the couch again, but this time, instinctively, closer to him. His hand went up to the back of Kendall's neck, his fingers tracing small circles on the tense skin, an affectionate and intimate gesture that always made him relax.

- Do we really have to go to his country house this week? - You asked, your voice low and almost resigned, as if you expected him to change something. - Can't Matsson be normal and just do a video conference?

Kendall opened her eyes, turning her face slightly in your direction.

- Do you need a vacation? Because that would be a bad moment. - The provocation came with a tired but sincere smile.

- Well, you couldn't stop me anyway. - You answered in the same tone, a playful smile illuminating your face.

Kendall tilted her head, the expression slightly challenging as she rested her hands on her legs, gently pulling them to be on top of his.

- You know I'm still your boss, don't you? - His provocation was accompanied by a light touch on his knees, his fingers slowly rising up the curve of his thighs, like someone testing the limits.

- Nothing like a good judicial process to put things in perspective. - You replied with a defiant smile.

He let out a low and incredulous laugh, his eyes shining with amusement.

- Are you threatening me? Because, just for the record, my legal group is the best in the country.

You couldn't contain the loud laugh that escaped, the sound echoing through the silent room. Kendall leaned over, his smile growing when he saw his fun.

- What? Do you think I'm kidding? - He continued, still smiling, but now his hands were firmly anchored to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't notice the exact moment when you ended up completely on his lap, but there was, sitting on your legs, the heat of the bodies of you two filling the small space between you.

- You definitely wouldn't want to face me in a court, Ken. - You murmured, the lowest voice now, but still provocative, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

His hands tightened slightly on his waist, as if they wanted to record the moment in his memory. He tilted his head, his eyes sliding from his lips to the neckline of his blouse, which was now slightly more open because of the position.

You didn't have time to say anything else before he tilted his face and his lips finally met. The kiss started slowly, almost exploratory, but quickly became more intense. His hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling his breathing accelerated as he deepened the kiss.

Some fingers slowly rose under your skirt, dragging the fabric with them, while Kendall pulled you even closer, gluing her hips to his. The movement was deliberate, provocative, and when he pressed you against you, you felt exactly what he wanted you to feel.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, your fingers sliding down the open collar until you met the heat of the exposed skin, at the same time, his hands went up more, exploring his thighs without any hurry, but with a firmness that made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. When the lips parted, it was only for him to go down his jaw and reach his neck, where he began to distribute hot and possessive kisses.

You let out a trembling sigh when he found a sensitive spot near your collarbone. He noticed and lightly bit the area, a satisfied smile forming against his skin when he heard the sound that escaped from his lips.

- You have no idea how much I have to hold back when you wear this fucking skirt. - He whispered against her neck, his warm breath making his skin shiver.

You arched your body, tilting your head to give him more access, while he continued the path over your shoulders, his lips alternating between kisses and soft bites that made you lose control. Unhurriedly, Kendall slid her fingers through the fabric of her blouse, moving it away just enough to expose more of her skin.

- Much better this way. - He murmured against his collarbone, the hot breath making his skin even more sensitive. His hands returned to your waist, pulling you again against him while your lips explored the new piece of exposed skin.

You tried to answer, but your mind was a blur. His every touch seemed to set you on fire, and when he pressed his lips lower, near the beginning of your bra, you couldn't hold a louder sigh.

That's when a noise in the distance interrupted the moment. A low sound, maybe the creaking of a door or quick steps, made you freeze for an instant. Kendall, however, seemed to ignore it completely.

- Ken... - you call, between sighs, your eyes opening more attentively while trying to regain focus. He ignored it, thinking it was just one more of those delicious moans you let out when muttering his name. But your voice became more serious when you pushed his face away, still panting. - Ken, I think there's someone here.

He frowned, reluctantly, his lips still close to his neck while grumbling:

- So what?

You moved away a little, already restless, standing, your eyes trying to cross the darkness of the office beyond the glass walls. Kendall sighed, clearly upset, and accompanied you. He stopped right behind you, his hands automatically returning to your waist as he glued his body to yours, as if the situation were a mere detail that did not require any attention.

- There's no one here, dear. - He murmured in her ear, pressing his lips back on the curve of his neck, ignoring any sound or shadow that might exist.

You closed your eyes for a moment, almost giving in again to the warmth of his hands on your waist and brushing your lips that seemed to want to erase any remnant of your concern. But then the sound came back: something soft, like a hurried movement or the creak of a door in the distance.

- Ken, seriously. - You turned around, putting your hands on his chest, trying to stay firm. - Shall we go home?

He furrowed his eyebrows quickly, his lips curved in a carefree smile that only made it clear how much he thought you were exaggerating.

- Are you really getting me out of here? - he asked, tilting his head while looking at you as if it were a crime to leave things incomplete.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head, but before you could answer, he pulled you by the neck for a kiss, one of those that disarmed any argument. The plan of a quick kiss to convince him was completely lost when he deepened the movement, his hands firm on his waist as he pressed you against his body, with an accuracy that made you forget why they were still there.

Finally, he walked away, the satisfied smile still stamped on his face, and murmured:

- Let's go soon. - He took the suit thrown on the couch with the same energy as someone who wanted to shorten the waiting time, wearing it anyway.

You took the opportunity to take your bag, put on your shoes and turn off the lights. While the door closed behind you and you walked to the elevator, Kendall didn't waste time: a hand slid firmly to his ass, squeezing lightly while he commented something provocative with a cheeky smile.

The way back home seemed longer than usual, every second an agony. His fingers slowly went up his thigh, deliberate, squeezing and sliding, as if he wanted to test his limits.

As soon as the elevator of the building where you lived arrived, the silence between you seemed electric, the air loaded with tension. As soon as the door opened directly to the apartment, Kendall was already pulling you by the waist, closing the space between you as if there was no more time to waste. He pressed you against the wall next to the entrance, his hungry lips on yours, and you responded with equal intensity, your hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer.

The corridor became a blur as he guided you inside, the two bumping into furniture as if every second mattered. When they got to the kitchen, Kendall didn't hesitate.

- Is this good for you? - He murmured, his voice loaded with sarcasm and desire, his chest pressed against his back, while sliding his hands down his thighs, raising his skirt without ceremony.

You couldn't answer, already completely surrendered to the firm and urgent touches. The kitchen, with its cold tones and the soft street lighting that entered through the windows, became the perfect setting for the outcome of the desire that began in the office.

__________________________

The days before the trip were intense and so full of commitments that time seemed to escape through your fingers. Kendall, you, Roman and Shiv were at a frantic pace, adjusting the last details of the proposal for Matsson during the flight. The atmosphere between you was focused, but Roman's constant interruptions with his jokes did not let the environment become completely wise.

The flight was long and silent. While most of you were immersed in papers or napping, there was a feeling of shared restlessness. You noticed this in Kendall, who drummed her fingers on the arm of the armchair.

When they landed at the small airport, the atmosphere of the destination welcomed them with a humid and cloudy cold. The surrounding mountains seemed to be covered by a thin fog, and the icy wind carried raindrops. Roman, when putting his feet on the ground, looked at the cars waiting for you and, as expected, made a comment:

- Oh, perfect. Who needs a helicopter when you can take an endless trip by car.

During the journey through the winding roads that crossed the mountainous region, the silence in the car was interrupted only by the sound of the windshield wiper fighting against the persistent drops.

When they finally arrived at the place, an imposing and modernist construction emerged in the melancholic landscape. It was isolated, surrounded by tall trees and surrounded by low clouds. Despite the discomfort caused by the cold and rain, the minimalist architecture seemed even more impactful in the scenery.

You and Kendall went out side by side, the body expression of both was neutral, maintaining professionalism. The tense atmosphere of the negotiation seemed combined with the gloomy atmosphere of the place.

Lukas was waiting under the entrance cover. Dressed casually, he seemed completely at ease, as if the hostile weather was just another characteristic of his nature. His eyes soon fell on you, analyzing every detail in a long and not at all subtle way. A brief smile appeared on the corner of his lips, something between interest and curiosity.

He approached to greet the group, extending his hand to Kendall first. Then, his eyes turned to you, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to evaluate who you were.

Kendall returned the greeting impassively, and you just kept the same professional countenance, corresponding to the handshake that Lukas offered. Despite not showing any visible reaction, you noticed his insistent gaze on you, as if you were trying to decipher your presence there.

His first impressions of that place ranging from something almost picturesque, ideal for relaxing, to a slasher movie setting. Dense trees surrounded the complex, its branches writhing as if whispering secrets. And the accommodations... Well, these brought a new meaning to "forced intimacy".

The rooms were small, surrounded by glass walls that led to the treetops - and to the rooms of others. There were no curtains, just a dubious concept of "integration with nature". Privacy seemed like a joke.

- What the fuck is this? - you let go, dropping your suitcase in a corner with a slack of disdain. - They put us in a matchbox with transparent walls.

Kendall, already taking off her coat, laughed low and shook her head.

- This guy is too weird to choose this damn place. - But the irritation on his face was obvious. He hated places that escaped the standard of impeccable luxury.

While you were removing your heavy coat, Kendall answered a call from Roman. He left his cell phone on the speakerphone on the table, and his brother's debauched voice took over the environment.

- Damn, are these rooms a social experiment? - Roman began, already with that tone loaded with sarcasm. - Who was the genius who decided: 'Hey, do you know what's going to be great? Glass walls among dysfunctional adults!'.

You suppressed a laugh while Roman continued:

- By the way, you can see you here. Yes, literally. So, please, do me a fucking favor and save the couple's little show for later. Seriously, whatever you do in that bed - I don't know, bite, moan, scream - I don't need a VIP window to watch. My trauma quota is already broken.

- Why don't you just look away? - Kendall replied, frowning, but unable to hide a smile.

- Oh, great plan, Ken! I'll just turn my head and ignore the erotic theater that you two may or may not decide to stage. Like, of course, super simple. It's like asking not to look at a car disaster.

Kendall just hung up with a sigh.

- He never shuts up, does he?

- It's a talent. - You laughed, dropping your coat on the couch and going towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was even tighter. You sighed when you entered, since it wasn't exactly the standard of comfort you were used to. His apartment in New York was practically a sanctuary, where not even a drone would be able to snoop.

The hot water ran down his skin, but there was no way to relax completely. Everything in that place seemed... exposed, at the same time as tiny. When you left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you found Kendall sitting on the bed, fiddling with your cell phone with a restained expression of frustration.

- What's wrong? - you asked as you went to your suitcase, taking the clothes you would wear during dinner.

Kendall dropped her cell phone on the bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands, the gesture of someone on the verge of exploding with their own thoughts.

- Nothing, just rereading some things. - He replied, looking up at you. The smile that emerged was subtle, but carried a malicious trace.

- What kind of "things"? - you asked, pulling a black wool blouse out of the suitcase.

He tilted his head, his eyes walking through you while you chose a heavy coat to complete the look.

- The kind that makes me think that we could pretend we got lost in this shitty place and skip this dinner.

You laughed, shaking your head while wearing your underwear, still feeling the remnant of lightness of the moment they shared. However, as soon as you and Kendall left the room and reached the main corridor, the atmosphere changed. Near the entrance of the hall, they found Shiv and Roman, and the air already seemed loaded with tension. As expected, Roman did not miss the opportunity to break the atmosphere with one of his jokes, full of irony.

- Look, the couple of the moment. - He said, with a crooked smile. - I bet dinner will be the preliminaries for what comes next.

You didn't stop, you just kept walking, your cutting tone escaping naturally.

- Roman, you're talking so much about it that I'm starting to think you're waiting for us to make love in front of you or something like that.

Roman went from surprised to angry, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

- Fuck you.

You launched a victorious smile, without even looking back. You positioned yourself next to Shiv, following next to her to the table where they would sit while you listened to her tell you about the discoveries about Matsson.

The rhythmic sound of your heels and those of Shiv echoed through the hall as you walked towards the designated table. To the corner of your eye, you noticed Gerri and Carl sitting further down, engaged in a conversation that seemed casual. Gerri threw a polite smile in your direction, and you reciprocated, without thinking too much, before continuing to walk next to Shiv.

However, as soon as you passed, Carl leaned slightly towards Gerri, the unmistakable provocative tone.

- Still trying to make friends, huh?

Gerri kept the smile on his face, but the sarcasm in his voice was cutting.

- I still can't believe this bitch got so much power just by fucking one of Logan's children.

Carl gave a muffled laugh, his gaze dancing between Gerri and his figure, now on his way to the table.

- Well, it's not like you haven't tried something similar either, right?

Gerri sighed deeply, as if the conversation was more exhausting than necessary.

- Fuck you, Carl.

You, oblivious to the poison exchanged behind you, went to the table with Shiv, focused only on the dinner you were about to start.

Dinner was a mixture of forced formality and disguised tensions. The expensive dishes were served in silence interrupted only by the strategic conversations between the sides of Waystar and GoJo. You were calm, oblivious to any subtext that surrounded the table. He answered Matsson's questions succinctly when he tried to involve you in discussions about his area of expertise, remaining strictly professional. His clear and objective answers left little room for any other interpretation.

On the other side of the table, Roman watched everything with the usual restless attention. It didn't take long for him to realize that Matsson's eyes wandered to you more often than necessary. It was subtle, but it was there - the look that lasted a little longer when you spoke, the pause before he returned to paying attention to what Kendall or Shiv were saying.

He spent dinner rolling his eyes at himself. "Really, Lukas? Do you want to fuck her now? At a dinner? With Kendall right there?" He thought, trying to decide whether to intervene with some comment or just let the show roll. In the end, he remained silent, but the tension did not go unnoticed.

Dinner was over, and conversations flowed in small groups scattered around the hall. You ended up cornered by Greg, who, with his innate ability to turn any topic into an endless monologue, was talking about something that involved compliance systems and a documentary that no one else seemed to have heard of. You nodded from time to time, let out a "Is it really?", while thinking about how to get out of there.

Finally, you asked for permission, a polite smile on your lips, but in a hurry enough not to give him room to insist. The cold air outside was an immediate relief, and you pulled your coat closer, taking the silver cigarette wallet out of your pocket. The sound of the lighter breaking the silence was almost comforting as the smoke spread around him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear the steps approaching until a low voice full of irony sounded behind you.

- Do you mind offering me one of these?

You turned around slightly, finding Lukas Matsson standing there, the smile half crooked on his face, the expression too casual to be innocent.

- Of course. - You answered, handing him the wallet and the lighter. He took a cigarette, lit it calmly, and the flame of the lighter briefly lit up his face before he released the first long puff.

For a few seconds, silence reigned, only the sound of the embers burning filling the space. So, he broke the moment:

- So, what's your story? Did they throw you into this last-minute deal or was it just a strategic move that no one noticed?

You let out a low laugh, bringing it again while answering:

- I don't think your team did homework as well as you think. - There was an ironic tone in his voice, but nothing exaggerated. - I've always been involved. I only prefer to avoid the spotlight when I can.

Matsson gave a short laugh, leaning more relaxed against the wall, but his eyes never left you.

- You know, that's funny. - he said, releasing another drag. - It seems that the more time I spend with you, from Waystar, the more I wonder how Logan kept this shit all together.

You kept a polite smile, but you didn't get more involved than necessary.

- He knew exactly how to deal with each piece on the board.

He arched an eyebrow, interested.

- And you? Is it just another piece... or is it the one who moves the others?

His words came loaded with a subtext that you preferred to ignore. Your smile didn't falter while you put out the cigarette on the stone guardrail in front of you.

- I'm more for someone who guarantees that the board remains whole.

Matsson laughed softly, shaking his head.

- Between us, if Kendall had introduced me to you before, I would have signed any contract he asked for.

You stopped in the middle of the gesture of putting out the cigarette, crossing your arms instinctively. The short laugh that escaped was dry, almost sharp.

- This is somewhat inappropriate, considering the context.

Matsson tilted his head, a smile that was half fun, half provocation forming on his lips.

- Don't worry, it just makes everything more... interesting.

The comment made something turn in your stomach. His disconnection from the seriousness of the situation was as absurd as it was annoying. For him, it seemed like a game, a casual provocation, but you felt the weight of the inadequacy. Taking a step back, you adjusted your coat with calculated calm before answering firmly:

- Well, I think I've spent too much time outside.

He didn't move, he just kept smiling in that almost defiant way, as if he was testing his limits. You turned around and started walking back, but the discomfort persisted. Even without looking, it was impossible to ignore the weight of his gaze burning on his back.

When he got close to the salon, he saw Kendall, and the relief was immediate. Approaching, you lightly touched his arm and murmured something quick. He nodded, casting a discreet look at you before continuing his conversation.

As you left the room, you could feel Matsson watching everything from afar, his eyes fixed on every movement. What did he think he was doing? The confusion hung over you as you went up to the room, trying to remove the discomfort of that interaction.

After dinner, when most people were already starting to disperse, Matsson called Shiv, Roman and Kendall to his office. The room was minimalist, with dark wooden furniture and soft lighting that seemed to cast more shadows than clarity.

Roman, as usual, did not miss the chance to make one or two comments that made him laugh, while Shiv kept a clinical look at Lukas' roles and words. Kendall was attentive, but calm, following each point with a meticulous focus.

When the subject of the agreement finally sold out, Roman was the first to get up, with

Shiv going right behind. Kendall, in turn, mentioned accompanying them, but Matsson's voice interrupted him, casual, but firm.

- Kendall, stay a little longer. I want to exchange an idea with you.

Kendall stopped halfway, looking at the brothers. Shiv hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but ended up leaving without saying anything. The door closed with a soft click, leaving the two alone.

Lukas went to the bar in the corner of the room, the steps deliberately slow. He took a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses, handing one to Kendall before casually leaning back on the counter. His smile had that ambiguous quality - friendly, but provocative.

- You know, you have an interesting team. - He started, turning the glass in his hand. - A little... predictable, maybe, but interesting.

Kendall laughed low, almost automatically, while taking a sip.

- Yeah, they do what they need to do.

Lukas tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.

- Someone from your team caught my attention.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, curious, but still relaxed.

- Really?

- Yes. - Lukas took another sip, savoring the moment. - An assistant of yours, I imagine. She tried to stay professional, but... fuck, what a woman.

Kendall laughed lightly, shaking her head as if the situation were an internal joke.

- I didn't know she was your type.

Matsson arched his eyebrows, as if he were facing something too obvious to be discussed.

- Are you slutty? Damn, the woman is fucking hot. I tried to start a conversation, but she didn't make it easy.

Kendall let out a more genuine laugh now, completely certain that Matsson was talking about Jess. He imagined the assistant, who always seemed shy and out of place, trying to avoid the company's buyer.

- Well, that probably blew her mind. This kind of situation is not exactly her strong point.

Matsson shrugged, the smile loaded with subtext.

- Maybe. But nothing that a little... persistence can't solve.

Kendall still laughed, not realizing the true focus of the comments.

- Okay, good luck with that.

Matsson raised the glass, as if toasting to the "challenge", but the malicious glow in his eyes suggested much more. Finally, he changed the subject, but the tension in the air persisted, hovering between the two as something that would not be easily dissipated.

__________________________

The next morning, as soon as Kendall appeared, Roman intercepted him right on his arrival for breakfast, looking more curious than worried.

- So, Ken, what did Matsson want with you yesterday?

Kendall sighed, already anticipating Roman's insistence. In addition to having been briefly frightened by the abrupt arrival of his brother.

- Relax, man. I won't sell the company without you. - Kendall answers with a light smile with a humorous tone.

Roman, however, rolled his eyes, impatient.

- What did he want?

Kendall hesitated for a moment, but ended up letting out a short laugh while lowering her tone of voice.

- No big deal. He just wanted to talk about an assistant of mine.

- Assistant? - Roman narrowed his eyes, his expression confused.

- Yeah, I don't know, Jess. He said he thought she was hot or something like that. - Kendall gave a light laugh. - Surprising, right? Like, who would have thought?

Roman blinked, the plug suddenly falling, and his expression became incredulous. He grabbed Kendall's arm, pulling him away from curious ears.

- Ken, are you serious? - Kendall frowned in confusion, with no answer to what her brother meant by that. After all, why would he lie about that?

Roman rubbed his face, as if he needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts.

- Man, I hate being the bearer of the bad news, but... he wasn't talking about Jess.

Kendall kept not understanding, already getting impatient.

- What the fuck do you mean by that?

Roman lowered his voice even more, but the tone carried all the drama that only he knew how to apply.

- He was talking about your wife, Ken.

Kendall's face hardened, the laughter disappeared immediately.

- What?

- Do you remember that day at Waystar? He saw her passing by and, fuck, I swear, the guy almost drooled on the glass of my living room. It was so uncomfortable that I had to invent something on the spot.

- And what did you say, Roman? - Kendall asked slowly, her eyes narrowed.

Roman raised his hands, half defensive, half cynical.

- I said she was your assistant, okay? I thought you were helping. The guy was literally looking at her as if it were dessert.

Kendall ran her hand over her face, taking a deep breath, as if she wanted to punch a wall.

- Did you say she was my assistant?

- Yes, because Lukas was one step away from asking for her number. You know how he is. I thought I was playing fair for you. I thought that, because I was an assistant, he would lose interest, I don't know.

Kendall closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was counting to ten.

- And now he thinks he can talk to me about it as if it were a trophy he wants to conquer?

Roman shrugged, casting an almost apologetic look.

- Welcome to the world of Lukas Matsson. He's a cretin with an ego the size of fucking Norway.

Roman patted Kendall's shoulder before walking away, but Kendall stood still for a moment, looking at the floor, clearly trying to decide what her next step would be.

The worst was not only Matsson's behavior, but what it meant. It was a constant reminder that he was, of his own free will, about to deliver everything: Waystar, ATN, the legacy that his family carried, no matter how sick it was.

Kendall tried to focus on work for the rest of the day, but it was impossible to ignore. Whenever Matsson made a comment that seemed on the verge of something inappropriate, Roman exchanged tense glances with Kendall, as if he was expecting an explosion at any moment.

And, of course, there was the ATN.

Kendall knew that selling Waystar was already a complicated decision, but including ATN in the package? That was simply handing over all the weapons to the enemy. With the presidential elections coming, the ATN was more than a tool; it was a weapon of influence on a large scale. Leaving that in Matsson's hands was giving him a power that not even Logan would have dared to deliver.

___________________________

That same night, Kendall finally consolidated his decision. He knew that Shiv would never support him in this plan, so he went straight to what really mattered: convincing Roman. Manipulating her brother, twisting the arguments until they made sense to both of them, was something Kendall did with the skill of someone who had spent his whole life watching Logan. And, like Logan, he felt no remorse for leaving Shiv out. She was brilliant, but also mercilessly practical, and at this moment, Kendall needed something more emotional, something that only Roman could offer.

The next day, the morning was tense, but Kendall barely seemed to notice. He maintained his professional posture, and when the right time came, he set up the scene. During the meeting on a mountain trail, he pressured Matsson with insinuations about the fragility of GoJo's numbers and the potential increase in Waystar's value. It was a dangerous dance, but Kendall knew exactly where to step to make Matsson hesitate. The plan was moving slowly, but accurately.

At night, after dinner, Kendall was visibly closer to you. Throughout the day, he had left small gestures of proximity: his hand resting on the lower part of your back while you moved through the hall, one arm on the back of your chair. It was atypical for him, and you were surprised, but you didn't complain.

Already in the room, the dim light of the lamp next to the bed barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to highlight Kendall's tense expression as he closed the door behind him. He walked up to you slowly, his fingers running through his hair in an automatic gesture of frustration, before letting the weight of his body fall on the edge of the bed.

- Roman is with me - he said, without preamble, his gaze fixed on the floor. He tilted his head to you, his eyes softer, but still full of concern. - That's already something.

You frowned, closing the book you had in your hands and putting it aside.

- Okay, but what exactly are we talking about here?

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before turning completely to you. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost conspiratorial:

- I'm going to screw this deal. Make Matsson give up even before he gets to the council.

Your stomach jumped a little with the confidence in his voice, but you kept the expression neutral.

- And how do you intend to do that? - he asked, hesitantly.

- Force the bar. Inflate the numbers. Throwing enough shit on the table until he thinks it's not worth it.

You were silent for a moment, processing everything he had just said. It was risky, of course, but the part of you who knew the game well knew it wasn't impossible. Still, there was something in his tone, in his gestures, that suggested that he wanted more than just his approval.

- Ken... - you started, but he cut you off.

- And you? Do you have another idea? Because, honestly, I'm open to suggestions.

He hesitated. Of course there was something - the letter that no one else seemed to be thinking about. But it was risky. Not only for Kendall, but for you too.

- It's not exactly conventional - you started, carefully choosing the words. - But we've done things like this before.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile thrown on his face.

- Okay, before your father passed away he kind of chose the next president, didn't he? Maybe... If you ensure that one of the candidates wins, but on the condition that the agreement is barred...

- Politics? - He laughed softly, more out of disbelief than humor. - Are you suggesting that I use ATN to create a political advantage and bar Matsson?

- And why not? The ATN takes care of him being elected, and everything is very simple: an election for favors to Waystar.

He didn't answer immediately. He was just looking at you, his eyes loaded with something difficult to decipher, as if he was evaluating not only the weight of your words, but you whole. Then, suddenly, a slow smile formed, that typical Kendall expression when an idea consumed him completely. Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours almost desperately, as if you had just delivered the solution to all his problems.

- Damn, I fucking love you. - He murmured, his forehead touching yours while a small smile still hovered on his lips.

You couldn't avoid a laugh, half surprised, half enchanted, but full of the lightness that he seemed so desperate to feel.

At the same time, in Matsson's office, Shiv entered with a confidence almost identical to Kendall's, carrying on his shoulders the posture of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Shiv entered Lukas Matsson's office with calculated steps, like someone who knew the weight of his own presence. He was at the bar, absently fiddling with a bottle of whiskey, but turned around when he saw it. A provocative smile appeared almost immediately.

- Oh, Roy who really knows what he's doing. What an honor.

She ignored the sarcasm, approaching with the usual posture: absolute confidence. Shiv knew he loved a power game and wanted to make him confused about what piece she represented on that board.

- We need to talk, Lukas. Of course, my brother is... complicating things.

He poured himself a glass and offered her another one, which Shiv accepted without taking his eyes off him.

- Complicating? - He arched an eyebrow, leaning casually. - It's a polite way of saying that he's trying to fuck with the agreement.

- Well, considering the circumstances, it doesn't surprise me.

Matsson tilted his head, interested.

- Circumstances?

Shiv turned the liquid in the glass, taking his time to choose the words. She knew that the next move would be crucial.

- Before we go for this, I want something from you.

He laughed briefly, surprised by the audacity.

- Like what?

- A guarantee that, if I help you, my place in all this will be solid. No unexpected turnaround, no last-minute change of plans.

Lukas blinked, clearly intrigued.

- Are you serious?

- Always. - She took a sip of the whiskey. - You need someone who knows how to deal with things... and I need to know that, at the end of this, I won't be just a pawn.

Shiv observed his reaction with a subtle smile, as if he knew exactly the direction the conversation would take. She leaned back in the chair, keeping her eyes fixed on Lukas, while he still seemed to process her proposal. She had the feeling that he was beginning to realize the weight of his words, but still not enough to accept the offer without question.

- And what are you going to give me in return, then? - Lukas asked, more genuine now, as if the negotiation had begun.

She didn't hesitate.

- Kendall. - The word fell like a silent command, and she watched him, seeing the surprise twinkle in her eyes.

- Kendall? - He repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice.

- I want you to keep him in control. I'll help you deal with it, keep it more... tied to the agreement. But what I need is to know that my role in your structure will be clear and definitive. I'm not someone who submits to uncertainties.

Lukas was silent for a moment, watching her more intensely now. He realized that the conversation was not only about business, but about power and control. Shiv wasn't there to ask for favors, she was negotiating something much more valuable.

- And what do you think I need to know exactly? - Lukas asked, leaning forward. He seemed to want to better understand what was at stake, but something in the way he looked at her said that he was also considering the impact of this for himself.

- Something about Kendall, of course. But also about who he has next to him. You know, his wife is not just another woman in the equation. She's... strategic. Before being Kendall's wife, she already had influence, an influence that is not seen in the media, but that is very real. Politics, maybe. Real power, not this spotlight show you love. And, of course, she was always his right-hand man, helping him get where he got.

Matsson was silent, his expression changing as he assimilated Shiv's words. He tried to connect the pieces, and the surprise soon turned into a smile of recognition.

- I'll make sure Kendall doesn't destroy the agreement. I'll help you keep him on the right track. And in the end, you'll need someone like me to make sure everything goes as planned.

Lukas was silent for a moment, evaluating her, before giving a low laugh, full of understanding.

Lukas let out a short and incredulous laugh, his smile widening.

- Damn, you Roy really hate your own family, don't you? - He said, the sharp sarcasm, but his eyes shining with something darker, almost fascinated.

Shiv tilted his head slightly, an ironic smile touching his lips.

Without saying anything else, she deposited the empty glass on the table with a slight click, keeping her gaze fixed on him for a moment that seemed to last longer than necessary. So, he got up with the calculated grace of those who always know the next move and walked out of the room, leaving Lukas with the trail of his presence and the sound of his jumps echoing in the silent space.

After Shiv's departure, Lukas Matsson remained motionless for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the door she had closed behind him. A slow smile formed on his lips, but it wasn't just satisfaction - it was something deeper, almost voracious. You.

Kendall's wife.

Lukas got up from the couch and walked to the window, the whiskey glass turning in his hand. He stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment, his breathing a little heavier. There was something electric, a mixture of irritation, fascination and a barely disguised excitement.

With a quick movement, he took his cell phone in his pocket and typed his name. In seconds, the information appeared: the first photo showed you next to Kendall at an event, the haugty look, a perfect smile, but distant. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing every detail of the image.

He moved on to the next photo. You alone, greeting some big guy at a formal event. Impeccable posture, wearing power as if it were a second skin. The almost non-existent smile was just enough to comply with the protocol.

A wave of irritation passed through Lukas. How had your team let something so grotesque pass? They had done a thorough research on Kendall and all his surroundings, but they hadn't realized that the person next to him was more than a wife.

Another article caught his attention, and he clicked. Your maiden's last name. Political connections. Zero direct involvement with the media, but an evident reach in other circles of power. Lukas laughed dryly, almost incredulous. You didn't need Waystar to be relevant.

He found another photo. You in a tight dress, walking alone to an event. Every line of his body seemed designed to exude control and elegance. Lukas pressed his lips, his jaw contracting. How did Kendall get someone like that? The thought hit him hard, a mixture of mockery and indignation.

He rested his hand on the bar, the smile on his face now a mixture of contempt and challenge. Kendall, with all her flaws and insecurities, had conquered something that seemed so out of reach. Maybe that was luck. Or maybe it was you.

The heat of the whiskey burned his throat, but it was not enough to relieve the tension that grew in his body. Every detail about you was like a piece of a puzzle that he wanted to assemble. How could someone so strategic, so imposing, be next to someone as pathetic as Kendall?

Leaving his cell phone aside, Lukas leaned back at the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. You weren't just a challenge.

_______________________________

A/N: Okay, I know we ran over some things here, but I just couldn't contain my obsession, sorry!! 🫠

masterlist

xoxo, bebe🫶🏼💕

[strang3lov3]

The First Taste

Roman offers you money if you just let him put the tip in. Just the tip, that's all (it's not all).

Tags - smut, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, virginity kink, big dick roman roy, dare i call that cock gargantuan, ludicrously capacious, even? Unprotected piv, fingering, blow jobs, cunnilingus, hand jobs, nipple stim, just the tip (it’s never just the tip) dubcon, manipulation, deception, coercion, betrayal, Roman solicits sex from reader and is also insensitive about stds, pay him no mind. I made myself soaking wet every day while writing this so. Do what you will with that information. 5.8k words. A/N - This is just...smut. Beginning to end. I’m gonna be working on stepdaddy after this, probably write a stepdaddy sick fic cuz I feel kinda like shit. Kisses to all yall sluts 😘

Finally, some fucking quiet. For now. 

The couple in the hotel room next to yours has been going at it all night, a marathon of fucking. Endless moans, rhythmic squeaking of the bed becoming louder and faster, then quieter and slower. This couple makes you wonder if their room is the honeymoon suite or something, the way they’re fucking like a couple of newly-wed bunnies. You rest against the plush headboard, closing your stinging eyes momentarily. 

You dipped from the wedding an hour or so ago, maybe closer to two hours at this point. It’s about midnight now. You’re alone in your room, crinkling the once neatly made bedding as you play a dumb little game on your phone. Your mind wanders as you mindlessly tap the screen, thinking about what the couple next door is doing. What he’s doing to her, what she’s doing to him. How good it all feels, probably. You wonder what it’s like. 

Knock. Knock knock. Knock knock. Knock knock–

Roman. You don’t even have to look through the peephole to know it’s him. Nobody else knocks like that, and nobody else would show up at your door at this particular hour. You sigh as you get out of bed, taking heavy steps toward the door before opening it. 

“Evening, sexpot. You have something of mine and I’d like it back, please and thank you.” 

Roman’s still wearing the outfit he wore during the wedding, though missing his suit jacket and tie. The sleeves of his white button down shirt are rolled above his elbows, there’s an extra button undone. Once neatly slicked back, his hair is now disheveled, a few loose strands falling over his eyebrows. His eyes are half-lidded, lips curled into that smug, casual, infuriatingly handsome smirk he always wears. He looks gorgeous. 

“I do?” you ask, thinking before remembering quickly. “Oh, shit. Yeah, I do.” You open the door wider and make space to allow him to follow behind you, Roman first closing the door. You unplug his charger from the wall outlet and wrap the cord in a figure-eight around your fingers, some habit you’re not sure where or when you picked up. Roman holds out his hand and you place the charger in his palm. “So is the wedding finally over?”

“Mhm. You vanished on me, though, Cinderella. I thought I’d get at least a dance out of you but you stood me up, you heartbreaker, you. Felt like a virgin on prom night,” Roman laments with a dramatic flair, no real hurt in his tone. “But I’ll live. Me and some bridesmaid-chick totally dry humped on the dance floor, so it all worked out.”

You know he’s teasing, probably lying. Embellishing the truth. But it makes you squirm just the same, and you’re not totally sure why. You could be a little jealous, maybe. But there’s another reason, too.

“Anyway, uh. Thanks. I’ll leave you to it,” Roman says, toying with the charger cord. 

“No, thank you. Came in hand–” 

“Oh, fuck, like that. Just like that, harder, harder, fuck, ohhhh!” 

You’re interrupted by the sounds of your temporary neighbor’s moans that you’ve become very well-acquainted with. “Oh my god,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. 

Roman’s lips curl into an even wider smile, his eyes lighting up as he raises his eyebrows. “Oh, nice!” he says, giggling, “Man. That’s awesome. Lucky you, with your front row seat to the show. Maybe there’s a hole in the wall behind this mirror or something. You should see if you can watch.”

“They’ve been going at it for hours,” you deadpan. 

Roman nods in approval, that big, stupid smile still on his lips. “Awh, fuck yeah. Good for them. You should ask to join. We both could, actually. Let’s go knock.”

Your cheeks heat up at the idea, even knowing Roman’s not serious. Probably not serious, at least. Roman notices this, takes mental notes of your flustered expression, how you look anywhere but at him. The shifting of your feet, the unnecessary movements your body makes as you squirm. “Ahh, too shy. I get it,” Roman says. “So you’re just - you’re…what, jerking off to it in here, all by your lonesome? Fuck, did I interrupt? How rude, let me get out–”

“No!”

“No? You want me to stay?”

“No - you - I–” you huff, closing your eyes as you inhale and exhale a deep breath. “I meant that I’m not…you know. Doing that.”

Roman’s eyes sparkle. “It’s okay, you can admit it. I know you ladies are more, you know - audio than visual.” He wiggles his fingers by his ears as he paces slowly around the room, inspecting the slice of cake you brought back with you from the wedding, swiping a bit of frosting off the plate with his finger before sucking on it.

“Stop it, Roman.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a while, if you don’t mind. Listen to the music.”

“Whatever, knock yourself out. I’m not sleeping as long as they’re still doing it.” 

True to his word, Roman listens intently to the sounds of the couple fucking. You wouldn’t expect anything else from him. He makes little faces of intrigue or surprise at the noises, the extra loud moans or the occasional smack. You regret allowing him to stay. This is so fucking awkward, so you distract yourself by tidying up your already-pristine hotel room. Rearranging some glasses that haven’t been touched, then pouring yourself another glass of water even though you’re not actually thirsty. Roman notices all of this, too. At some point his attention shifts from the muffled noises coming from the other side of the wall to you, how you nervously flit around the room. He decides to up the tension, to make it all worse for you.

“We should fuck,” he says plainly. “You know, louder than them. Establish our dominance. There’s a bed right there.” 

It takes you a second to reply. “Funny,” is all you say, your voice coming out quietly and not very confident. Fuck. 

“You’re very shy about it, you know that?”

“Shy about what?”

“Oh, fucking - c’mon. You know what,” he deadpans. “Sex! Coitus. Fornicating. Love mak–”

“No, yeah. I got it–”

“Fucking,” Roman interrupts. “So why are you all shy about it?”

“I’m not - I’m not shy,” you stutter.

“But you are. Because you don’t talk about it, ever. You like, clam up, get all fuckin’ weird and quiet,” Roman says, gesturing to you. “And like right now, you won’t even look at me. It’s almost like you’re nervous or something. Are you?” he pauses, “Nervous, that is?”

You’re feeling defensive now, cornered, as Roman’s wedged himself deep under your skin. “No, I just - what does it matter, Roman?” you snap. Sighing, you sit on the edge of the bed and cross your arms. 

“I just wanna know, that’s all. Just curious,” he replies, tempering his tone to be much less pointed, less mocking. “You know me. No judgement here.”

“I just…don’t feel the need to talk about it, I guess.”

“You can’t even say it,” Roman digs, crossing his arms. “Are you a prude? Is that it?”

“No, Roman, I’m not a prude. It’s just a very personal thing for some people.”

“Naturally.”

“Not that you’d understand,” you bite.

Roman presses a hand against his chest, pretending you’ve just shot him. “Ouch. But yeah, no, I get it.” Roman pauses, then joins you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “Is it herpes?” he whispers. “It’s herpes, isn’t it? You know, there’s no shame in it. I’ve actually created new strains of STDs myself in the course of all of my sexcapades. And look at me, I’m not ashamed,” he smiles, stifling a giggle at his own joke.

“If that’s true, Roman, you really should be. And don’t be facetious. That’s not something to laugh about.”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he concedes, the apology devoid of any sincerity at all. “So are you saving it for marriage, then? Gonna give Mr. Right your most precious gift?”

You freeze then. Roman’s getting warmer, burning hot. It’s not the truth, but it’s not…not…the truth. An inch away from uncovering your big secret, that you’re a virgin. Never had sex, not once. 

It must be written all over your face in big, bolded letters or something, because Roman’s face twists in realization. His eyes are sparkling, jaw dropped in an open, wry smile. “Holy fuck,” he scoffs. “You’re shitting me. Virgin?! You’re a virgin? Oh my god, gross. Ew,” he laughs, turning your cheek to force you to look at him. 

It makes you feel bad inside. Insecure. Your bottom lip quivers a little as tears well up in your eyes, that awful feeling of embarrassment taking over every one of your senses. Face hot, ears pounding, the walls closing in. “Roman,” you whisper, tilting your chin down to hide yourself.

“Hey - heyyy. Don’t fuckin’...don’t be like that,” he says, tilting your face back up. Roman laughs, then makes a sympathetic expression as he pulls you close, wrapping his strong arms around you in a tight hug. Some of your tears soak the collar of his shirt as he presses your face into his shoulder. “I’m very sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I took it too far, that’s on me. I’m sorry. Hey–” Roman nuzzles your hair, “I mean it. I’m sorry.” 

You don’t say anything. You’re too pissed to speak but even if you weren’t, you’re not sure that you could conjure up any sort of response to…whatever the fuck just happened.

“It’s not so terrible, being a virgin.” Roman offers, rubbing your back soothingly as he kisses the top of your head. “There’s worse things to be.” 

“Yeah? Like what?” you ask, voice muffled as you mumble into his shirt. 

“Like…fuckin’ dead, I guess.” Roman thinks for a second, “Or ugly. And you’re not that, so…”

“Thanks, Rome,” you reply flatly. 

“And guys like virgins,” he adds. “Like, do you know how much some creeps would pay to fuck virgin pussy?”

“Uhh…”

“Millions. They’d pay millions,” Roman says, taking note of how your ears perk up at the statement, the incredulous look you give him. “Yeah, now that’s interesting to you, isn’t it? Shit, I’d pay you for it. Let’s skip the middleman, huh?”

“What? No.” You pull away from Roman’s arms. 

“Yes. Why not?”

Why not? Just the littlest amount of pushback from Roman and you’re already questioning the lines you’ve drawn in the sand for yourself. For a moment, you contemplate the idea of having sex with Roman, and you’re tempted - his naked body on yours, pleasuring you in a way you’ve never felt at the hands of someone else before, his attention all on you. His perfect, soft lips on yours as he swallows your moans, loving you the way you deserve. But ultimately you decide no, it’s not happening. It can’t happen. Not like how he’s suggesting. He doesn’t have the capacity to handle something like this with any amount of respect or tact.

“I don’t know, Roman. I guess that I always envisioned my first time having sex being with someone that I love. Or trust, at the very least.” 

“And you don’t trust me?”

You scoff “Fuck, no.”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Roman nods. “Okay, fine. I won’t pressure you. You save that special little gift of yours for someone who deserves it.” 

You nod as you look down at the floor, tracing the pattern in the carpet with your eyes, gasping when you feel Roman touch your bare knee. “Or…” he murmurs.

“Or?”

Roman’s had the idea of screwing you in his head for a while now, and by his own admission, is especially turned on at the prospect of being the first one to fuck you. It fills him with a primal sort of feeling, knowing that at least for a moment, you’d be his. Your first lover’s name you’d moan would be his, your first orgasm at the hands of another will belong to him only, forever. There’s something about taking your virginity that fills him with a sickening, all-consuming sort of need. He’ll do it, too. By any means necessary.    

“Just the tip,” he whispers, his warm hand sliding up your thigh to toy with the edge of your pajama shorts. He wriggles them even higher, not stopping even when you hold your breath and grab his wrist to keep him from traveling further. “Chill. I’m not doing anything,” Roman mumbles, sliding his hand out from under yours to take your hand and put it flat on the bed. He holds your thigh again and speaks slowly, quietly, “You just let me put the tip in and I’ll pay you the same. Whatever - whatever fuckin’ number you want, alright? Put however many zeroes at the end, and it’s yours…if you just let me put the tip in. Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Just the tip,” you repeat quietly, thinking…thinking that it sounds like bullshit, and yet, you’re kind of falling for it anyway. He makes you feel stupid, even when he’s not insulting you.

Roman speaks again before you can talk yourself out of it. “Just the tip,” he lies. “So long as I don’t - you know, fully penetrate you - technically, you’d still be a virgin by the end of our little thing.”

“You’re saying it wouldn’t count?” 

Roman nods his head. “Wouldn’t count at all. It’s…a loophole of sorts,” he says, tracing his fingertips up and down your thigh, inching closer and closer to where he wants to feel you the most. “Virginity stays intact. C’mon,” he urges.

You’re fighting yourself. Roman can see the temptation and the self-preservation fighting each other in your mind, and he can’t let the smarter, safer side of you win this. 

“You’ve got nothing to lose,” he adds. And he’d get to satisfy a curiosity, but that’s not something he needs to tell you. 

“I don’t know, Rome. It - something about it makes me nervous.”

“I know. But I’ll be gentle with you, alright? I’ll take it nice and fuckin’ slow, walk you through the whole thing. No surprises.” Roman shifts a little and reaches into his pocket for his wallet, then pulls out a stack of bills, all hundreds, and places them on your nightstand. “There. Call it a fuckin’...deposit or whatever, I don’t know. Now do we have a deal or not, virgin?”

You bite your lip as you think - or do something resembling thinking, rather. You can’t think clearly, not with Roman’s hands now on your waist. He doesn’t have to touch you anywhere private or sensitive - just his hands on your body is enough to make your brain fucking melt, you poor thing. Don’t even know how badly you need it, need him. Roman will make it all better. Fix you. 

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. He presses a couple of kisses against the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his tongue as he licks you there. You let out a broken moan in response, nodding urgently. Roman smiles against your skin in satisfaction. “Attagirl,” he murmurs, then pulls away from you. Your pupils are blown wide, lips parted. Perfect. 

He dims the lamps around the room and turns off the overhead lights, casting the room in a warm, orange glow before joining you on the bed again. “Let’s fuckin’ do this thing. You ready?”

“I don’t - I don’t -”

Roman calms you down before you spiral. “Shh, relax. Relax. We’re going slow, like I said,” he reminds you. “God, you’re so fuckin’...c’mere.” 

Roman puts both of his strong hands on your face, thumbs on your jaw, the rest of his fingers firmly pressing into your neck. He pulls you close and kisses you, and his lips feel even better than they look. You let out a little noise that Roman doesn’t acknowledge; he only continues to move his lips tenderly against yours, deepening the kiss when you begin to reciprocate. 

He’s an excellent kisser. The way he uses his tongue makes you feel dizzy and sets your whole body on fire, and you feel his hands everywhere. Your face, your neck, your waist, digging his fingers into you and squeezing you like he loves you. “Gimme these.” Roman takes your hands in his own and puts them on his own shoulders, his silent way of showing you how it all should be done as he inches closer to you. 

He’s warm, warmer than you imagined. Warm in a comforting way. He smells so…him. Slightly sweaty, but not in a bad way, with his cologne worn down to its base notes. He tastes good, but you couldn’t even begin to describe. You’d be content with just this tonight, really. 

Roman deepens the kiss and lays you down gently, caging you in with his body. You’re still feeling out of your depth, unsure of where or how or if you should even touch him, though Roman doesn’t seem to mind. Of course he doesn’t mind. He’s got only one thing on his brain, and that’s ruining you. Touch him however you like or don’t touch him, he doesn’t give a fuck. 

His fingers crawl beneath your shirt, climbing up your body until he’s squeezing gently at the flesh of your breasts. You gasp when he rubs his thumb in circles over your nipple, feeling it harden with his touch. “Rome-” you breathe, clutching his bicep. 

“It’s okay,” he tells you, repeating the action with your other nipple, causing you to writhe beneath him. “I gotta get you ready for it, sweetheart.”

Roman pushes your shirt up as high as it’ll go, and kisses your neck, dragging his tongue down your skin. He uses the muscle to tease one of your nipples, putting to use his lips and teeth as well. His hands travel down your body, fingers passing over the neat little bow at the front of your pajama bottoms as they slide down towards your center.

You gasp when you feel him touch you there, just over the fabric. Roman groans as he rubs his fingers, feeling how you’ve soaked yourself. “Yeah, you weren’t fuckin’ lying, were you? Made a goddamn mess down here,” he mumbles, pressing little kisses against your neck. 

“Lying about what?” you breathe.

Roman has to stifle his laugh so as not to embarrass you, but you are such a cliche, absolutely drenched from a bit of kissing. Too easy. “Shh, nothing,” he says. “Nothing. You’re fine.” Roman pulls your panties and shorts to the side, exposing your cunt to himself. “Has anyone ever touched you here before?”

You shake your head. “Mm-mm.”

Roman only nods as pulls your thighs apart, and your heart pounds hard. He traces your lips only momentarily before diving between your folds, feeling the pool of arousal he’s caused. 

“Fuck,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut as you arch into his touch. “R-Roman, Roman…”

“Ohh, man, you’re sensitive,” Roman laughs quietly, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. “Holy fuck. That feel good? Huh, virgin?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, squeezing his forearm and bicep with your hands as if to anchor yourself or something. You feel like you’re gonna break. Everything feels heightened, but sort of sharp and fuzzy at the same time. Your head spins, and you can’t keep track of your thoughts. 

You whine when Roman pushes his middle and ring fingers into your pussy, pumping them in and out slowly. “How does that feel?” he asks.

“Good, kinda - uh…kind - kind of hurts.”

“You gotta relax,” he tells you, “ It’s okay.”  

Roman shifts a little and smiles at you before curling his fingers, stroking that special, sensitive little place deep inside your cunt you’ve probably never found on your own before. By the way your eyes roll back into your head and how you squeeze your legs shut around his arm, Roman guesses he’s right. “Oh my - fuck, Rome, that - you–” Your voice comes out in broken, breathy moans and you don’t bother finishing your sentence. All you can do is bury your face into his neck and try not to shatter into a million pieces. 

Roman fingers you like that for a minute or two longer, listening to those wet noises your cunt makes for him, then slows down his movements before pulling away. “You’re ready for it,” he tells you.

“I am?”

“Absolutely.” 

Roman leans back and sits you up, then pulls off your shirt without saying so much as a single word. He does the same to your shorts and panties, tossing them into a crumpled pile on the carpet. The way you squirm and hide yourself makes Roman smile. “Don’t be shy. I need to be able to see what I’m working with, right?”

“Yeah, no. That makes sense.”

“Hold on.” Roman unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off, pulling off his undershirt too. His bulge is sizable in his black slacks, and when he unbuckles his belt and pulls the rest of his clothes off, his hard cock slapping against his tummy, your eyes widen. His dick is massive. The tip reaches his belly button, and it’s curved beautifully, slightly to the right. Roman wraps his fingers around it and squeezes, knuckles whitening a little.

“Y-you’re fucking huge,” you stutter.

“I know, right? It’s Roman Roy’s best kept secret.” He smiles wide, pleased with himself as he winks at you. “Alright. Spread those legs and let’s fuckin’ party.” Roman reaches for your ankles and pulls them apart, eyebrows raising when you fight to keep them closed. 

“No! No, don’t.”

“...No?” Roman drops your ankles and sits back, eyeing you. “Scared?”

“Very.” 

He chuckles. “You’ve never even felt a cock before, have you?” Roman asks, stroking his cock slowly. You shake your head and he nods in understanding. “Wow, it really is all new to you. That’s my bad, sweetheart.” 

Roman lays down next to you again, this time flat on his back. He shifts a little and grabs your wrist, guiding your hand to his cock. “Get to know it a little. Just touch it, however you want,” he instructs. Roman waits for you to touch him, but you’re frozen. He raises an eyebrow, “It’s not gonna bite you.”

“I know, I just don’t know…don’t know what to do.”

Roman says nothing, only presses your fingertips against the large, blunt head of his cock. “Like this,” he says, dragging your fingers down his shaft. He wraps your fingers around his length, then lets you go. Your turn.

You slide your palm up and down his dick, just…taking it all in. His cock feels heavy in your hand which doesn’t surprise you, but you’re struck by his warmth, the heat radiating from him. You trace his veins, then squeeze him slightly in your fist, feeling him throb a little. 

Roman patiently lets you explore, despite it being an excruciating tease, groaning softly as he tilts his head back. “Now when you do this for real, with your Mr. Right or whoever,” Roman says, “Don’t just tease him like this. You’ll piss him off,” he warns.

“I will?”

“Oh yeah. No, you’re even pissing me off a little bit. Like, if this weren’t a teaching moment, I’d fuck you in two for this shit.” Roman words scare you a bit, and you stop touching him. “Relax, will you? It’s not gonna happen. You’re in good hands.” 

“Okay.”

“Let me show you what to do instead.” Roman takes your hand again, this time spitting in it. “You grab it like you mean it,” he says, wrapping your fingers tightly around his cock, tighter than you would have done yourself. “And–” Roman slides your palm up and down his length, helping you to maintain that firm pressure, “You go all the way up, all the way down. Like - fuck - yeah, like that. You’re a fuckin’ natural, virgin, look at you.”

Roman lets you work him on your own, simply enjoying the feel of your hand on his cock. He thinks it’s cute when you circle his tip with your fingers - it’s not something he taught you to do, but he doesn’t mind it. 

“Does this feel like, good?”

“Feels awesome. But,” Roman purrs, “You know what’d feel even better?”

“What?”

“You gotta be brave, sweetheart. Do you want to be brave for me?”

You’re not feeling very brave or adventurous but you nod a little anyway, and Roman jumps at the opportunity. He moves you down the bed, sitting you down between his thighs that are spread wide. “You’re gonna suck my dick,” he tells you, grabbing your face with one of his hands. “Don’t freak out, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Open your mouth.” 

Roman holds his thick cock between his thumb, middle, and forefingers. He taps the head against your bottom lip, encouraging you to open wider. When you open your mouth more, Roman lowers your head and fits himself between your lips, simply letting you get used to the feeling of him there. It takes a lot of patience on his part, to not fuck your mouth here and now. 

You’re not sure what to do, and Roman knows this. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he bounces your head just a little on his cock, your tongue sliding over his weeping slit. The taste of his precome surprises you - it’s a salty, warm, masculine sort of flavor that you don’t really mind. You’re pleased by how soft his skin feels, how he smells. Gaining confidence, you take him deeper into your mouth.

If Roman were a better man, he’d stop you - he’d warn you that you’re going to choke on his cock, that it’s gonna be too much too quickly. But that’s not Roman, not by a long shot. He inches you further down his cock with each bob of your head, grinning at the way you gurgle and sputter a little. “Little more,” he says. “Keep going.”

Cock in mouth, drool dripping down your chin, you look at Roman, searching for some sort of approval or encouragement. “You got it. And use your tongue, sweetheart. You can make a mess on me. You should, actually.”

You move your tongue in inconsistent patterns, swirling it around his length as Roman moves your head. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructs. “You’re doing so well.”

 He lets out soft little groans and his eyes shut for a moment, lips parted. Saliva is running down his cock and your jaw is beginning to ache from his girth, but Roman ignores your noises of discomfort and the tears in your eyes. He fucks himself deeply into your mouth, pushing you far past the point he should. Then suddenly, you gag and cough harshly, pulling yourself off of him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you spit.

Roman rubs your back and stretches across the bed, reaching for your glass of water. “You’re good, you’re alright,” he says, pressing the glass against your lips. “Have some water. You’re not supposed to take me all at once, virgin. That’s how you choke,” he taunts.  

After finishing the water, Roman takes your glass and sets it back on the nightstand. “Alright. Back to you, sweetheart. Lie back and spread your legs for me.” 

You tremble a little as you lie down, parting your legs only a little. You feel the bed shift with Roman’s moving weight and close your eyes, nervously anticipating the inevitable. 

Roman pushes your knees toward your chest and lowers himself, smirking at how tense you look with your short breaths, your fingers fidgeting with the comforter. He could warn you of what’s to come with a couple of kisses pressed against your inner thighs, but it’ll be more fun to surprise you. 

He licks your sex from bottom to top with a flat tongue, dragging it slowly through your folds. “Roman,” you gasp, hands darting for his head. You tangle your fingers in the sleek strands of his hair, tugging on them tightly. “You - you’re–”

“Shh,” he interrupts. His stubble scratches your inner thighs as he teases you, tongue circling your clit. Roman buries himself in that softest and most private place on your body, rubbing the tip of his perfect nose against your clit as he tastes you. He circles your entrance a couple of times before dipping inside, tasting your arousal right from the hole it trickles from. 

You’re babbling incoherently, whimpering his name as he then drags his tongue up and down your folds. He circles your clit once, then twice, then pulls the hood back and laves over the sensitive bud repeatedly, forcing you to lie still with a strong hand holding you down. He savors you like this, how you shudder and shake, muscles tensing as you fight to close your legs, not used to a feeling so intense. Roman fucks you with his tongue, guiding you through the first orgasm you’ve ever shared with another as you gush into his mouth, clit throbbing under his tongue. 

When Roman pulls away, you feel like you could cry. You bite your bottom lip to keep it from wobbling and try to will away that pressure building behind your eyes, but it’s hard. You wonder if Roman notices. 

“Now you’re really fuckin’ ready,” he tells you. 

“Okay,” you breathe, voice shaking. “Just the tip?”

“Mhm. Just the tip,” Roman confirms. He hovers over you and reaches between your legs to gather your arousal on his fingertips, then coats his cock in your slick. When he presses the thick head of his dick against your pussy, your heart races. You can’t conjure the words to tell him what you need, and urgently take his free hand in yours. 

“You wanna hold my hand?” Roman smirks and laces his fingers between yours, pinning your hand against the bed. “We can hold hands, sweetheart.” And then, in one swift, brutal motion, Roman fully buries his cock fully inside you. 

It sends you reeling. He’s so huge, it feels like he’s splitting you in two. You feel betrayed and try to squirm away, but Roman forces you to stay down with a hand on your ribcage. Forces you to take it, to feel it all. “Shhh, shh. You’re - hey - you’re fine.” Roman catches the free hand you use to try and shove him backwards and pins it to the bed with the other. 

“Y-you–” you sob, unable to form a sentence. 

“Ohhh, I know, I know, I know,” Roman coos mockingly. “I played a dirty trick on you, huh? Wasn’t very nice of me, was it?”

You look at Roman and cry, tears falling down your temples and into your hair. With his hand still clutching yours, he uses your own knuckles to wipe some tears away. “Poor thing. You’ll get used to it.” 

“But you said–”

“I know what I said,” Roman interrupts. “It’s never just the tip, baby, you know that. Or–” Roman pauses, thrusting into you deeply, “Maybe you really don’t know that. But this is real life, sweetheart. It’s a cruel fuckin’ world out there.” 

Roman sets a pace then, drawing in and out of you. Not particularly harshly or quickly, because the penetration alone hurts enough. He rocks his hips, pulling out of you and filling you up all the way with every stroke. 

“Roman, stop–”

“No. Fucking take it.”   

Roman ignores your sounds of discomfort, going so far as to cover your mouth instead. Your sobs are muffled under his palm, skin dampening with tears and saliva. Roman builds the tempo, lips curled into that awful, lopsided smile. “Listen to yourself. You’re fuckin’ soaked, do you hear that?” he taunts through a strained breath. 

The pain is utterly blinding, until it isn’t. You almost resent the way the hurt is replaced with pleasure now, because the betrayal is still there. Betrayal by Roman, and now by your own body. This…this isn’t what you were promised. You trusted Roman and he exploited that, but you’re fucking enjoying it.

Roman’s palm tastes salty over your mouth. When he removes it, a moan slips past your lips, and Roman grins. “Yeah, there it is. Not so terrible, huh, baby?”

You free your hands from his grip and wrap your arms around his shoulders, which is the only thing that feels right. You don’t entirely know why, you just know that you need him close. Roman pulls back a little to watch you, his greenish, hazel eyes darkened with something primal as he pulls out of you and pushes into you, again and again and again. You bury your face in his neck as he fucks you, and one of his hands slide up your torso to grope your breast and tease your nipple.

“Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good,” Roman grunts, rutting his hips into you. He’s in love with all of this, in truth. Addicted. How soft your body is for him, for his hands to squeeze and his fingers to dig into. He could fucking eat you. 

He fits his hand between your bodies, the heel of his palm pressing into your pubic bone. He rubs your clit in circles, thrusting into you harder, faster, deeper. “Look at me. Right here” he pants, using his free hand to hold your face. “Come on my cock. Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pulls your orgasm from you effortlessly. Roman’s name spills from your lips in choking sobs as you come on his cock, feeling impossibly full as your cunt pulses around him. It’s the heaviest, most overwhelming feeling, washing over you in waves, muscles spasming and twitching. Roman’s thrusts turn frenzied and frantic, and there it is - he’s coming too. Milking himself inside you, spurting thick, hot ropes of his come, and you take all of it. 

Roman pulls out of you then, and uses two fingers to push his escaped spend back inside your poor, raw, throbbing cunt. This time, you do cry. “Ohh, come here,” Roman says softly. He scoops you up into his arms and holds you tightly, stroking your hair. “You okay?”

“No,” you sniffle. 

“No?” Roman repeats, momentarily moving you to lean over the bed. He reaches for his pants and grabs his phone out of the pocket, then takes his place next to you again, pulling you into his side tightly. “You’ll get over it. Watch,” he murmurs, unlocking his phone and opening Venmo. He pulls up your profile and shows you the screen, the little blue cursor blinking. You type in a number, then give the phone back to Roman, who adds an extra zero before tapping Pay.

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me ♡

romey 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 @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

@ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @always-andromeda @causesimmer @pedropascalbabygirl

@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

@/perpetuallymanic @/111melo @/veryverycoolgirl @/marisemonteiroo

[muttsupreme]

here to second the sub!roman request 🫡 and yes pls cock headcanons !!

i’ve actually got great news for u guys…i have a little sub roman treat in the office fic upcoming🙂‍↕️which of course i always love a little moment of just sweet roman being a bitch and then just crumbling into you. because you’re beautiful, and he’s such a nothing, he’s a dog at your feet.

now COCK under the cut. and balls. and…general theories with very little support.

i always imagine his dick being about 5 and a half, maybe 6 inches? average length. thick. we know he has a strong, thick corpus spongiosum on the underside (from certain canon pics ahem) and a pretty mauve tip. but i think when his cock’s soft, it’s probably a little darker due to his pale skin, maybe a tanned brownish? likely veiny if his forehead tells us anything. probably leaks a lot, just drips the second he feels your skin on him, his balls aching already.

and it’s already known he has psychosexual dysfunction in his own way. prone to lose the occasional erection — but that won’t stop you from sucking him hard, right? it’s a temporary problem that you intend on solving. and cumming too quick is a gift in itself, like he’s begging to be overstimmed. and he takes it, even when he’s the one in control, he keeps on at it and just drools on you.

you’ll coo endlessly: “nice and easy does it”, “good boy”, “keep it going”, “sweet thing”, “you got it, there we go”, “you’re alright, i’m here”, “hey, look at me”. and he’s gross, he’s repulsive in return. “gonna fucking — drain my balls”, “fuck you, so tight, don’t you ever use a fuckin’ dildo or something?”, “stop squeezing or i’m gonna blow my load too quick”, “shh-sh-sh, let’s-let’s not moan right now, okay? too much, can’t keep on keepin’ on if you sound like a pornstar”.

i like to think he cums quite a bit. i mean, the wasted window load wasn’t small. so, with you, in you, i think it would be that nice amount where he’d be able to push it back in with his fingers, maybe just stay in you, use you as a cock warmer. make a joke about how you’re a cream-filled donut? it’s a lazy comparison.

don’t get me started on his balls. i’m just kind of a freak in general with all that shit, so i just can’t leave them out, sorry. they’re nice and full and tight, hair usually kept trimmed nice and neat (not that you don’t go feral for when he forgets to trim). they’re pretty even, and like his tip, tinged a little darker than his pale skin.

he’d never really had them sucked before you. maybe cupped, held? but you asked to test your little theory, and yeah, of course he’s gonna let you suck his nuts, whatever, have at ‘em. so you do, casually, one evening on the couch, as Pierrot le Fou plays so quietly in the background on the flatscreen that it’s drowned out by his whining in a matter of minutes.

but yeah. i 🩷 romancock. truly, madly, deeply. i think about it day and night.

[cosmicwavelengths]

you're joking, right? (he's not)

minors, dni! - 18+ only

pairing: roman roy x assistant! reader

summary: you spend a weekend away on a business trip with your boss, roman roy, who asks you for an unusual request -- and you pray these are one of those jokes he doesn't actually follow through with. a/n: i swear this started with an innocent "roman gets pussydrunk" prompt i came up with but it spiraled into something completely different - enjoy! cw: smut (fingering, oral, face sitting - reader recieving), dubcon, explicit language (thanks roman), f! reader, roman is your boss wc: 1.7k | masterlist | ao3 ────୨ৎ──── “Did you not hear me the first time?”

Roman sits with a smug smile, arms folded up behind his head and feet on his desk. You shift nervously on your feet, taking sudden interest in the patterned carpet on the floor. “Roman, it’s late and I’m not in the mood for jokes. Please, just tell me what it is you actually want so I can go to bed.” Working for Roman Roy has its perks, but you often find yourself victim to his ridiculous antics. But this? This has to be the worst one by far.

He huffs out a chuckle before sitting up, putting his elbows on the table. “Are you slow? You really want me to repeat myself again? Just, fuckin’-, look here.” He rises and walks over to you, standing closer than you’d like. “I said, I am going to lie down—” He pauses, gesturing dramatically towards the bed next to him. “And I want you to pull down those little panties of yours—” He taps your hip where your underwear sits. You recoil from his touch. “—so you can sit on my face.”

You can’t convince yourself that he is joking by this point. You glance up at him. His eyes are dark with mischief, neck slightly tense. He leans back from you, throwing his arms out. “C’mon, don’t be a fuckin’ prude. And I’m not joking. Just pull off your little shorts and sit on my face, that’s all,” he all but whines, as if he were a petulant, spoiled child. You sigh at that, folding your arms. “Roman. Stop playing with me. Now, unless you have something you actually need, I’m going to go.” You turn to leave, but Roman grabs your wrist with a quickness, tightening his grip. He spins you around to face him, putting you much closer to him than you were before. “No, no, no. You’re not fuckin’ going anywhere. Whatever you think you’re gonna do, you’re not, so cut it out.” At that, he pulls you in for a hurried kiss. You’re unsure you can really call it a kiss, though, he all but bites your mouth, tugging your bottom lip with his incisors and causing them to bleed a bit.

You pull away quickly, face flushing with embarrassment. “Roman! What are you— Why?” Suddenly, you’ve never felt more alone in your life. You left your phone in your room, keycard on the desk. You have nowhere to run. At this realization, tears begin to prickle at your eyes. “I don’t want to, please don’t make me…” You trail off, words breaking off into a small sob. Concerningly, Roman seems unmoved by your unnatural display of overt emotion. He hushes you, bringing up his other hand to wipe away a tear that had rolled down your cheek. “Oh, don’t cry like that. Just take off your shorts.”

You really begin to cry now, genuine fear striking through you. You shake your head rapidly as one last plea to let you go. “No, no, please, Roman?” Losing his patience, Roman grabs you by the waist and pushes you on the bed underneath him. His hands roam all over your body, teeth coming up to graze your earlobe. “Don’t you make me ask again,” he grunts into your ear, hands having found the edge of your waistband. With quick movements, he yanks down your pajama shorts and panties, having exposed your slit, unwillingly slick with your arousal. “Shit, you’re actually wet? You’re a sick slut, y’know that? Getting off on me having my way with you…” You let out a sob of fear and pleasure as he drags a gentle finger through your folds.

You slide up to move away from him, but a firm hand on your stomach keeps you in your place. “Please don’t, Roman…” you try again, weakly, falling victim to the attention his thumb is giving your clit. You let out a quiet moan. “No, shut the fuck up and take it. Besides, why are you asking me to stop when you’re clearly enjoying it?” He drags his hand up your shirt for your tits, beginning to fiddle with one of your hardening nipples. You reluctantly arch into his touch, biting your kiss bitten lip to hold in a groan. At that, he teases your entrance with the tips of his middle and ring fingers, tracing the outside and barely dipping in. You throw your head back with pleasure. “Please, Roman?” you whine out quietly, a voice almost foreign to you. Roman stifles a laugh, so as to not humiliate you further. How kind. “Holy fuck, no way you’re actually begging me, now. Don’t be scared, just let me in.”

He shoves his digits in your cunt, causing you to cry out. His fingers reach that soft, spongy spot of your walls, causing you to flutter around his fingers and keen loudly for him. “Fuck,” you groan to yourself, eyes rolling back into your head. Roman angles his head to look at you, movements slowing down slightly. “You don’t need to beg me, sweetheart. I’m going to give you exactly what you need,” he says smugly. At that, he pistons in and out of your pussy. “You take my fingers like a fucking slut, I can feel the way your cunt mouths at my fingers,” he mumbles to himself, locked in to the way you’re being stuffed full of him. You babble mindlessly, getting closer and closer to release. He twists his fingers in a particular way and he makes you cum, loudly and pathetically. Your hips buck with reckless abandon, and your bones feel like they’ll dissolve under the extreme pressure at your core. When you’ve come down from your high you lie still against the bed, tired and breathless.

Roman pulls his fingers out of you, eyeing the way your arousal coats his fingers. He brings them up to his mouth for a taste. “Wow,” he states breathlessly, having fingered you rather aggressively. “You’re a shitty liar if you said you didn’t want that.” You remain quiet, still shocked by his initial aggressive demeanor towards you. You lean up on your elbows to look at him, dazed. “Okay, Roman, you’ve had your fun. Can I go to bed now?” He kisses his teeth, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I haven’t actually had my fun until you sit on my face.” You offer a shy smile at that, hoping it will deter him from continuing to be pushy. “I don’t want to suffocate you. I mean, what if you can’t breathe?”

He sinks down on the bed so his face hovers above your pussy. His hands slide up, holding you open for him. He gazes at your glistening cunt, arousal stewing deep inside of him. “Then I’ll have to worry about that when, or If, that becomes a problem.” Suddenly, he hooks his arms around your thighs and rolls over so you’re on top of him. Even though you’re more or less the same size, you thought he wouldn't have had that much strength. He moans underneath you, sending shocks of vibrations through your clit and up your spine. You shudder with arousal, causing your thighs to shake.

“God, your pussy is so perfect f’me. Just like I imagined.” He eats you out wildly, tongue gliding through your folds and circling around your bundle of nerves at the top. You bring your hands up to hide your face out of embarrassment as you rock your hips gently against his mouth. “Hey-hey, keep your hands down, I want to see you cum.” His eyes fix darkly on you, “Be a good little assistant for your boss and take your hands down.” He sucks obscenely at your clit, causing your back to arch deeply and make you hold onto the headboard for support.

His hands slide up your hips, digging his fingertips into your flesh. “Roman, Oh God, Roman, please make me cum! Please?” you beg, still grinding on his tongue. He groans again, sending another flash of ecstasy through you. He pushes you up to get room to speak, “Fuck, be a good girl and cum for me.” Sitting you back down, his tongue flicks out again over your clit, aggressively shoving you over the edge. You shatter above him, waves of bliss coursing through your body. Your hips rock uncontrollably, unknowingly causing your arousal to spread across Roman’s face. He drinks up your orgasm, lapping at your hole as you ride out your orgasm. When you finish, you flop over unceremoniously next to him, legs going limp. Roman sits up on his elbows as he tries to catch his breath. 

You roll over to look at him and you see how your orgasm soaks his face and absolutely ruined his dress shirt. Your face blushes deeply as you scramble for an apology. “Roman, I’m so sorry about the shirt, I really didn’t mean to—”

He waves in your direction, silencing you. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll just take the dry cleaning costs out of your next paycheck,” he says with a hint of bland humor in his voice. You pout at that, knowing that the few things he actually jokes about is your compensation. He throws a cunning look in your direction, filled with promise which makes you feel uneasy. “I guess that means you’ll have to make it up to me next time.”

--

The following week, you’re back at your desk at the New York office, typing away and organizing documents. Hearing a knock at your door, you stand up and round your desk to investigate. Upon opening the door, your vision is taken up by a huge bouquet of roses, about two or three dozen you think. The delivery man, struggling to hold the heavy vase, sets it down with a huff in front of you. After confirming your identity with him, he walks away trying to catch his breath.

You lean down, noticing a small white card buried in the petals of the flowers. Opening it, reading the  tiny letters printed in the card makes you feel light headed. Round two in Stockholm next week? — RR

[eeveebitches]

bathroom. || Kendall Roy || smut

Pairing: Dom!Kendall Roy x F!Sub!Reader

Summary: You're Roman's assistant, at a launch party Kendall invited you to. Stuff happens along the way that you're sure would get you fired.

Word count: 3.794

18+ only! More under the cut,

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Dom Kendall, implied one-sided attraction from roman, bathroom sex, fingering, p in v, sexual tension, stewy makes a cameo

A/n: this is based on a request i got! :DD

_______________________

It’s a cold night, and Kendall is standing in front of you.

You don't know Kendall that long, but there's a clear twinkle in his eyes that shines with deviancy as he greets you. Even in the darkness of the New York street, you can see a glimmer that simply can't be usual. His smile is something you'd consider overly excited, and his short hair is slightly ruffled. You look him up and down, taking note of his casual appearance. "Hey hey heyy, there's my girl," he says with a wide grin.

He goes in for a side-hug, which you lean into with a smile. You don't expect him to speak as close to your ear as he does as he tells you, "I'm really fucking happy you could make it," so you can't help but shiver as his breath fans against your ear. Kendall pulls away from the hug, immediately searching for eye contact as he keeps grinning at you. "You know I'm never one to say no to a good party," you chuckle, letting him lead you from the street into the building.

It's some random start-up party, and Kendall had asked Roman to invite you, so now here you are. You aren't completely sure why he'd invite you, though.

You guessed it was because of Kendall's strange need for validation, and somehow him having a lot of 'friends' validated him. Not like you're complaining-- the white mini dress you're wearing has been collecting dust in your closet, so you're happy to put it into action.

"I like your, uhh, get-up. Real church girl gone slutty vibes. Fits you," he notes, eyes shamelessly raking over your body. You roll your eyes at him. He's high at most, and strangely giddy at the very least. Whatever he says tonight will not be worth worrying over. "And you look like you're gonna be a guest at Comic-Con," you shoot back as you let him open the door for you.

He ushers you inside with a hearty laugh, casually resting a hand on the small of your back which, surprisingly, you don't hate. "Listen, I know you hate those yuppy-wuppy parties, so I thought this kinda shit would be right up your alley. Good food, free drinks and a DJ that doesn't fucking suck." You hum as you scan the hallway you're standing in. Kendall quickly turns to talk to security, while you quickly grab your phone out of your purse to check your messages.

[ sad victorian puppy ]: Where the fuck are you

[ sad victorian puppy ]: ????????

[ sad victorian puppy ]: Hurry up before I hang myself with the fairy lights

[ sad victorian puppy ]: I'm not joking

[ sad victorian puppy]: I'm doing it right now

"You ready to dazzle loser-y tech bro's?" Your head shoots up from Roman's messages to give Kendall a nod. He yet again casually places his hand on the small of your back, handing you a wristband as he starts explaining random finance shit to you. It's all 'bla bla shareholders, bla bla stakes' to your ears, but you nod along as he bridges into the people he knows at the party.

The main event hall is spacious, fairy lights and plastic vines struggling to make this whole thing feel low-key. With a bar in the corner and a lively dance floor at the very front, you let Kendall lead you through the crowd as he points people out. "That's Shane, nasty fucking guy. His dad got in trouble for insider trading, so he made a jailbreak video game based on him and made bank," he practically giggles into your ear, hand slithering to rest on your side.

The side of his body is flush against yours, and his hot breath fans against your ear with each smart-mouthed remark. There's something promiscuous about it all, and you can't help but lean into his casual touches. "Is that one friend of yours here, too? With the beard and gray streak?"

He raises his brow at you in amusement. "You mean Stewy? Why, d'you wanna fuck him or something?" he asks through a wicked grin. "I barely know him, Ken, and you know I prefer being wined and dined." His eyes crease as his smile grows, curiously watching you. "Uh-huh, sure you do. Miss self-respect over here." You grin as well, walking out of Kendall's hold to disappear into the crowd, making your way to the bar.

Almost immediately you spot Roman, whose deep frown you can see from far as he stares at his phone. "Hiya, Romes."

You didn't mean to startle him, but that doesn't stop you from laughing at him when he jumps up, hissing out a sharp 'Jesus fuck' as he turns to glare at you. "Is this what you've been doing? Haunting this place and scaring people like a fuckin' poltergeist?"

"I mean, I am wearing white," you remark, before quickly ordering a mocktail as you hop onto one of the bar stools. Roman scoffs at you, choosing to simply stand next to your seat and lean against the bar. He seems strangely nervous, something you tell yourself to ask about later.

He slips his phone into his pocket with a huff. "Yeah yeah, whatever, Casper the shitty fuckin' assistant." Your drink slides in front of you, so instead of mustering a quip in reply, you opt to quietly taking a sip. It's surprisingly bitter, but you don't hate it.

From the corner of his eye, Roman carefully watches you. "Y'know, I can see you glaring at me," you mumble against the glass of your drink, smiling at Roman as he straightens his back and clears his throat. "Fuck off, I'm just weirded out by you in a party dress. It's uncanny valley type shit," he says, awkwardly tugging at his own fingers like he's trying to dislocate them.

"I think you're using uncanny valley wrong." With a scoff he turns his entire body to properly glare at you. "I know what uncanny valley is, and you in a dress like this gives off major android vibes. Like the real you has been replaced by a freaky, lookalike sex doll." He pokes your arm as he says it. His face is crinkled in childlike disgust as he watches you take another sip of your drink.

You can tell he doesn't mean it. He knows he doesn't mean it, too, hands fiddling as he fights the urge to touch the fabric of your ivory dress. "Still weird that Kendall wanted you here. Are you fucking him? I'm gonna fire you if you are, because that's, like, reaaally fucking gross," he groans out, continuing his glaring as you nonchalantly finish your drink.

"How about you first ask HR if asking about my love life is appropriate behavior, then I'll tell you all the juicy details." And with that you place your empty glass down and stand up from your seat. You pat Roman's shoulder with a grin. "I'm gonna go socialize, so stay put," you tell him, and while you didn't mean for it to come off as flirtatious, you don't correct yourself when you realize it does.

You maneuver through the hipster ocean, avoiding the guys wearing Rick & Morty shirts with ugly tweed blazers on top who are desperate for a conversation with you. The dance floor is in full swing, something you're sure you wouldn't have seen if you arrived earlier. Kendall had told Roman, who then told you that the later you arrived, the better it'd be.

Speaking of that devil, there Kendall stands, wearing kicks you're sure are worth more than your soul, a casual blazer and a shirt with a minimalist design. He lights up when he sees you, smile reaching to his eyes as he calls you over with a wave. Next to him stands that friend of his, dressed far too formal for the occasion.

He opens his arm, signaling for you to slot against him, which you do with far less hesitance than you'd like to have had. "Had enough of Rome?" he teases, carrying a blissful grin. You ignore the comment, instead focusing on Ken's friend.

"Roman's assistant, right? Haven't seen you since that thing in Florence." You hum in agreement, trying to dredge up his name from your memory. Kendall removes you from his arm to stop a wandering waiter and ask for... something, who knows. "Yeah, you were just as overdressed then as you are now," you reply with a cheeky grin.

What his name was, though, is still on the tip of your tongue. Something with an S, for sure, but the rest of the letters just don't place themselves.

Kendall returns to your side, and quickly whispers in your ear,

"Stewy."

He turns his head to look at you, and as your eyes meet he shoots you a coy grin before turning to, well, Stewy. "Y'know Rome has her write his e-mails? She probably knows more confidential shit than I do at this point." Stewy lets out a small chuckle, clearly looking you up and down. Kendall laughs at that, although there's a sharp tinge to it.

After some small talk between the two men that you simply could not follow for the life of you, Stewy leaves to go to the bathroom, winks and nudges palpable as Ken tells him to have fun.

"So, how're you liking it?" he suddenly asks you as the two of you walk to the couches in the corners of the room. "It's very... trendy." You smile as Kendall huffs out a laugh, the two of you sitting much closer to each other than you really have to be.

His thigh, which is surprisingly firm, is flush against yours. You can feel yourself holding your breath, but you just can't seem to breathe out as Kendall doesn't stop making eye contact. "Yeah, this is some hipster bullshit, I know. Still, the drinks are good, and the catering isn't pathetic."

"I haven't even had the food here yet, is it really not that bad? Those mini sandwiches seemed a bit..." He chuckles at that, nodding his head as his eyes quickly dart around, searching for something.

"Like absolute dog shit, yeah. But I swear it tastes pretty good. Let me go get some for you." You were expecting him to stand up, but instead he waves over a guy most definitely getting paid below minimum wage. "Hey dude, can you get me and the lady some of those mini sandwiches? And some drinks, too."

The waiter scurries off with a nod, so you turn your focus back to Kendall who's simply staring at you. "Seriously, thanks for coming. Not to sound like a sappy loser, but I do appreciate it. You're reliable, that's important shit to me, y'know?"

You smile at Kendall, patting his thigh. "It's no problem, Ken. You're a cool dude," you tell him, which somehow makes his eyes glimmer more than they have been so far. With a bewildered, yet smug look he keeps staring at you. "Good to know you find me cool. You're, uhh, cool too."

His hand goes to lay on top of yours, and suddenly whatever cologne he's been wearing floods your sense of smell. The air becomes heavy, too heavy for you to bear, as he continues looking into your eyes.

But then he squeezes your hand, quickly looks away and lets out a light chuckle. As if on queue, the waiter appears, drinks and ugly sandwiches on a platter. He places them on the table in front of you, then quickly departs.

"Fucking finally," Kendall mumbles, grabbing one of the sandwiches. "Alright, now open up."

"Open up?" He hums, smile growing more and more devious as he taps his mouth. "C'mon, say 'ahh', humor me." You have no reason to go along with it, or him, but something inside of you wants to, so you obediently open your mouth as Kendall plops the sandwich in your mouth.

The tension is palpable, partially because of how intense his eye contact suddenly becomes when you accidentally wrap your lips around his finger for a second as he pulls away. Flustered, you start chewing, letting out a muffled sound of enjoyment as the harmonious flavors spread over your palate.

"Shit, Ken, this is good," you giggle out, hand covering your mouth in a weak attempt at hiding your flustered expression. "Told you, didn't I? You can trust me, y'know."

He takes his own bite of food, as well as a dark blue drink, and he--

"Shit."

You look down at your dress, and all you see is blue.

Kendall spilled his fucking drink.

"Fuck, completely my bad," he hisses out, immediately grabbing you by the arm and leading you to the bathroom. For a split second you think you see Roman watching the two of you, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as you rush to one of the spacious bathrooms and lock the door behind you.

Kendall seems a bit frantic, like cold water was thrown over him, hands shaky as he grabs some paper towels and awkwardly tries to dry you off. "I fucked up, I'm sorry. Did you have a jacket with you, or?"

You simply shake your head no, to which Kendall grimaces. "Send me the cleaning bill for this shit, alright? This is completely my fault," he murmurs. "Ken, it's fine, it's just a drink. It'll wash out by itself."

It definitely won't, but the verbal comfort seems to ease his mind, as he stops wiping. "Yeah, you're, uh, you're right. I can get Jess to go find a jacket for you, it'd be here in like, ten minutes."

Before you can even decline, he walks to the other side of the bathroom, phone held against his ear as he mercilessly calls Jess during a Friday evening. You stare at yourself in the mirror, frowning at the splotch of blue. As you try to tug the dress a bit away from your skin, Ken appears behind you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just really sticky," you groan as you grab another paper towel and struggle to push it in between your dress and your bare skin. "Fuck, this is uncomfortable but, uh... would it be cool for you to zip my dress down a little? So I can actually reach inside my dress."

Your cheeks are hot as you ask him, eyes cast down to the marble floor. He lets out a tense chuckle, stepping close enough to reach your back. "Yeah, of course." You look into the bathroom mirror and watch Kendall as he slowly reaches for the back of your zipper.

His knuckles brush up against your skin as he takes the delicate zipper in between his fingers. Little by little, he pulls it down, watching your face through the mirror. Breathlessly he waits for you to nod, to tell him that it's enough.

But for a reason you could never say out loud, you don't. Instead you watch him zip the dress down, lower and lower until the zipper ends at your waist.

His hands sneak into your now unzipped dress, holding onto your bare hips as he places a careful kiss to the back of your neck. "God, you smell fucking divine," he groans out, covering your neck and back with pecks as he roams your body. The pads of his fingers are rough against your skin, like sandpaper against velvet.

He gropes one of your breasts, breathing in your scent while his other hand traverses lower and lower. The whine you let out as he gently tugs at your nipple is desperate, something he replies to with a simple kiss to your temple. "You gotta be quiet, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

Before you can even nod, he lunges at you, lips smashing against yours. He doesn't take his time, tugging at your bottom lip as he groans into your mouth. It's like he's trying to ravage you, hands growing rougher in their touch as he drowns in your scent. 

You can barely hold back your moans as he consumes your entire being. His hand finds the rim of your panties in no time, and with zero hesitation he pushes two of his fingers against your clit. The small circles he makes send small sparks of delicious electricity through your body. "So wet for me," Kendall whispers against your lips, still watching you through the mirror.

His gaze is hot, burning through your skin and heating you to your bones as he pleasures you. "Ken, please."

He can't stop himself from chuckling at how needy you are. "I kinda always knew your whole put together thing was bullshit. I mean, look at you now," he says, letting out a sharp laugh as you shiver at his words. 

"Roman doesn't even know you could be like this, huh? A needy slut fucking her boss's brother in some random bathroom." He doesn't give you any time to respond, his two fingers move from your clit to slip inside of you. Your walls squeeze against his digits as he uses his thumb to keep the pressure on your clit constant. 

It's all too much. His filthy words against the shell of your ear as he abuses your cunt, his other hand still busying himself with your nipple. It's hot, and harsh, yet the most satisfying feeling you've had in years.

Not only that, but you can tell how riled up he is, too. Panting, lightly grinding against you, hungrily staring at your reflection. "Fuck-- sit on the sink for me," he groans, removing his fingers. You do as he tells you, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth without much warning, but you gladly let him. There's a small part of you, in a very dark corner of your brain, that's cursing you out for being here. For letting him feed you, for letting his hands even graze against you. It's like every moment with him tonight led up to this moment, with you sucking your own juices from Kendall's fingers as he undoes his pants with his other hand. 

Kendall pulls his fingers away, wiping your saliva on your exposed thigh. You giggle as he pulls a condom from his pocket, giving him a teasing look. "Prepared, are we?"

He shrugs, expression almost bashful as he carefully rips the foil. "Not gonna lie to you, I got them from Stewy right after you walked away," he chuckles, cheeks raised high as if he's genuinely embarrassed. "I was really hoping for this," he motions between the two of you with a strangely sincere smile, "to happen."

"Stop being a sap and fuck me, Kenny." His head hangs low as he laughs at that, pulling out his cock as casually as one can when getting ready to fuck their brother's assistant in a bathroom. You bite the inside of your cheek raw as you watch him slowly roll the condom down. He lets out a small hiss as he does so, eyebrows furrowing as he gives himself a few loose-handed strokes.

With a gentleness he hadn't shown before, he pushes your thighs apart and your panties down. He looks into your eyes and smiles warily as he lines himself up against your entrance. "Are you okay?"

You roll your eyes at him, and with a burst of sudden confidence you grab him by his hips and push him against you. It takes a small bit of adjusting from Kendall, whose amused grin is, at this point, infectious.

As his cock slowly delves into you, you let out a tandem moan. "So fucking tight," Kendall huffs out, thumb yet again finding your clit as he watches you weakly writhe. "Can you please just move, Ken?"

The laugh he lets out is breathy, but he quickly complies, almost fully removing himself from you before slamming back into you. The pace he sets is brutal, his large hand clutching at your side and his eyes only focused on you. Your dress is clumsily pushed down, letting your tits bounce freely as his every thrust shakes you to your core.

Kendall doesn't relent with his other hand, either. He roughly spits on your sopping wet cunt, thumb gliding over your slick clit with ease. His every move leaves you gasping for air, and if it wasn't for the hand you're using to cover your mouth, you're sure everyone outside would hear you.

"I knew I had to fuck you when I saw you in this dress," he groans out as you shove your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his shoulder to keep your noises unheard. "I don't know how Rome handles having you around, always wearing those tight fucking pencil skirts. I'd bend you down over my desk," he picks up his pace, harshly slamming his cock into you, "and eat your pussy with everyone's watching."

With a particularly hard thrust and his words ricocheting in your head, you fall apart. Your entire body convulses, and everything turns a pure white as you can feel Kendall smash his lips against yours in an attempt to swallow your noise.

His own thrusts grow sloppy, and with a gruff moan he slowly stills his movements. You stay like that for a moment as you come to, his forehead resting against yours. You're both panting, and horribly sweaty, and as you slowly open your eyes the first thing you notice is the blue on your dress. Ken follows your line of sight, letting out a weak chuckle. 

"We, uh, still haven't fixed that." 

The two of you share a laugh, before he slowly pulls himself. You pull your panties up as he busies himself with discarding the condom and tucking himself back into his pants, hissing at the cold sensation of your cooled down slick. "Hey, didn't you call Jess or something?" you mutter, more to yourself than to him as he helps you zip your dress back up. "Yeah, she's probably been waiting."

"Poor Jess." Kendall heartily laughs at your sympathy. "I just gave you a mind-blowing fuck, and you're worrying about her?"

You shrug, shooting Kendall a small smile as you fix yourself up a bit in the mirror. Ken wraps an arm around your waist as he stands besides you. "So what happened to being wined and dined? Or is that still on the table," he asks through a brash grin. 

"Stop being a smart ass and ask me on a date like a normal rich guy."

"Rich guys don't do dates," he jokes as he unlocks the bathroom, arm still around your waist since your legs are wobbling, 

"they fuck assistants in bathrooms."

[jaebeomsbitch]

Not Just A Boy (R.R.)

Summary: You've been dating Roman Roy for a while now when one day he decides he's ready to try. Maybe he's mad about something or one of his siblings said something but tonight is the night he's having sex.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, humiliation kink, degradation, verbal abuse, and Roman feeling guilty/self harm after. Female reader

A/N: I've had this in my notes for weeks. I have so many half written fics right now. Also I don't think you can write smut about Roman without addressing his intimacy issues which is why I included him feeling disgusted after but he's always comforted.

“Woah easy there tiger,” you say, holding Roman’s shoulders from approaching you any closer. His face a couple inches from yours.

“What? Just trying to fuck my girlfriend, isn’t that what you've always wanted?” He says, a certain harshness to his tone but his face looks like he’s joking. 

“A-are you okay? Did something happen?” You ask concerned. He was out of it clearly, I mean he would’ve said if he was ready to try. His brother must’ve said something to him again 

“Oh suddenly I want to fuck and I have a problem? ,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Roman… you never want to. Not that I’m complaining just- what brought this on?” You ask, confused.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you, what’s the fucking problem?” He’s growing more and more annoyed you won’t even let him try. Roman can be very...aggressive when he wants something.

“If that’s what you want…” you feel weary. Knowing he’s probably in an emotionally precarious state. 

“I wanna fuck my girlfriend is that so hard to ask?” He throws his arms out in frustration but he’s got pending nerves stewing away in his gut. Maybe he wanted you to say no but he knew that you never denied him anything. You always gave into his stupid requests even at your own expense.

“Okay, turn off the lights then,” You sigh, knowing he won’t be able to do anything if he sees a shred of his skin. You knew he’d probably wouldn’t go far and he’d get mad at himself but you were willing to try. 

He leans over, turning off the lamp. His grip harsh on your hips as he pulls your shorts to your knees. 

“Calm down,” You try to say but he ignores, his heated hips pressing to yours quickly. Like he doesn’t want you to see. As if you’ll be able to see in a pitch black room but there’s no arguing with Roman. He gets what he wants, he always has. Being the son of a billionaire certainly afforded him that luxury. 

“Just- just let me,” He says breathlessly trying to do it himself but you know he’s near a breaking point. You decide to take charge, you flip him over onto his back. 

“I told you to calm down, can’t you listen?” You say annoyed with his pressing. 

“What the fuck?” He says, his voice coming out with a certain lilt. You keep your eye contact with him, knowing he doesn’t like anyone looking down at his cock. You grab it, watching as his eyes widen at your touch. He’s only ever been used to the pressure of his own hands so this is a big change. 

“Spit,” You command him, holding your hand to his mouth. He just looks at you, his brain foggy as he’s trying to keep up with this change in dynamic. 

“W-what?” His eyebrows pinch

“You want to be disgusting, let’s be fucking disgusting or would you prefer me to take over? Can’t use your cock, gotta have your girlfriend do it for you” you taunt, already upset that he thinks he can do whatever he wants. You've spent countless nights with Roman's insistent hips pressed to your leg, his hands bruising the skin he grabs onto. Enough was enough.

“Okay if you want to stop, I'm stopping” You start pulling away from him but his hands grip onto your forearm. He can’t say it, the embarrassment washing over him as his arousal sets in. He likes seeing you like this, your smart mouth being used to put him in his place. 

“N-no,” He finally says. 

“Look a you, can’t even ask for what you want," You taunt, his big doe eyes looking up at you as he bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from whining. A mewl leaves the back of his throat, his eyes big and desperate.

"You say all those disgusting things to me, send me photos of your dick multiple times a day, and I have to fuck you myself? You’re useless Roman, just a little fucking toy for me aren’t you? That’s what you want?” You sneer, face an inch from his. God he looks so cute like this.

He nods, “Y-yes, m’disgusting,” he says breathlessly. You tease his cock, tapping it at your entrance. 

“Yeah, you’re pathetic. You’re nothing but a filthy little piece of shit,” You say, watching his face. He’s lost in your words, his mind foggy at the way you grip his thigh harshly. That familiar pain creeping in mixed with you pumping him dryly at his insistence.  A bead of precum spilling out as you move to rub the head of it. He hisses at his sensitivity. You decide to relent, giving him just a moment of sweetness that he doesn’t deserve. You lean down, hot spit spilling onto his cock. You pump faster with the new lubrication, small moans spilling from his mouth. 

His chest reddens, Roman could be vocal during phone sex sure but it was always breathless sighs. This was different, the reverberation of his whines pressing into his chest making him feel like a gong. His head pounding with the noise. He tries not to think about it, about this. About how you’ve crossed this line for the first time as more insults spill through your mouth. 

“Never gonna be good enough to be anything but my fuckdoll,” You say, looking at the faint outline of your hand working at the skin. The mixture of spit and precum shining under the moonlit night. He feels that familiar heat in his belly, his stomach twitching as his voice climbs. You pump him faster, the skin between your thumb and index finger running up the vein. His breath is ragged as he shudders.

“Shi-it, yeah.. nothing but your fuck toy,” He whines, his head thrashing on the pillow. The heat growing and growing as he loses himself in the feeling. Just as you feel his hips start to twitch you let go. He whimpers at the loss almost crying as he begs for you to touch him again. 

“Please— please don’t stop,” He mewls, hands coming to grip your forearm again. 

“You take what I fucking give,” You say, your lip curled in disgust as you shake his hands off. 

You let him stew in the loss of his orgasm, his dick is painfully hard and spasming as you remove your shorts. You slide his sleep pants off, moving in between his legs so his thighs crowd your knees. Your hands latch onto the meat of his thighs as you hook the back of his knees to your hips. You grab his cock tapping it against your entrance again. 

“F-fuck, m’ple—“ He chokes, not getting the full word out. 

“Yeah?” You try to make out his face in the darkness, the sound of his head nodding against the pillow mixed with his pants not enough. 

“Y-yeah,” He agrees, his voice smaller than normal. 

“I’ll stop Rome, I’m serious,” You say a little more sternly. 

“Just… fuckin’ put it in already,” He says, embarrassed but whiny at the idea. You give him a second to back down as you line up your hips with the tip of his cock. 

“Please,” Finally slips through his gasping lips. The tension in the room crackling as you slowly push into him. Your walls stretching as he slides into you. His hands grip onto the sheets, head thrashing at the sensation. This was much newer and tighter than his soft fist. 

“Look at you, so pathetic,” You say choking on your spit. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this, you’d sacrificed your pleasure for your relationship with Roman. One that you were semi-happy with, especially now that he’s moaning under you. 

You drag your hips, “Nothing more than a dildo to me,” You say as your hips slap against his ass.  

“Ye- yes,” He nods his head, his eyes scrunched closed. You start moving faster against him, the sound of skin slapping filling Roman’s apartment for the first time. You pound into him using him like the most expensive dildo in the world. His mouth hangs open, broken sounds leaving his pink lips. 

“So fucking eager for me, no one can fuck you like this, huh? So pathetic look at you moaning under me like a fucking slut,” You breathe as you lean over, your hand next to his head as you use him. You move your hips until you feel him hit that familiar part of you, a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Fuck’ disgusting, imagine your dad seeing this. Watching you get fucked, he’d be fucking revolted by you,” You say. 

“If only he knew his youngest son likes being treated like a common whore, just a pathetic little fuck toy,” Your voice lowering at the exertion of your movements. 

“Thank you thank you,” He mumbles, small droplets of tears in his eyes threaten to spill at his overwhelming pleasure. His moans growing louder and louder, that familiar heat building in his stomach again. 

“Please- please don’t stop,” He pleads, a moan hitching at the back of his throat as your hips buck wildly against his ass. The heels of his feet pressing into you to pull you closer. You chase your own release, the familiar fluter of your walls clamping onto him as you grow closer and closer. Grunts spilling from your lips faster, the thought of insulting him flown out the window. 

“So fucking perfect,” You gasp, leaning the rest of the way down to suck on whatever exposed skin you can find trying to quiet yourself. Your teeth grazing at the tendon on his neck, tongue gliding against the prominent vein as he clenches his jaw. His hips twitch, chasing his own release. His mind hazy at the feeling of you pressed all over him. He tries to will himself to focus on your words but when your teeth bite down a little harder he feels his eyes roll back. The threatening of his skin breaking at your mercy bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s careening over it. He whines and gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, mouth hung open. He sounds more like a rabid animal as broken sounds leave his lips. 

“Fuuuck” You gasp as you pummel his abused skin. His ass red with your repeated force and his cock already sensitive but his cum provides an easier glide as you use him. Tears spill down his cheeks at the overstimulation until you feel yourself free fall over the edge. Your hips bouncing against him as your thighs shake. Your face digging deeper into his neck, your mouth left open as you press it harder against his clenched muscles. 

You catch your breath before you lower his legs, soothing his aching muscles as he shudders. You try to warm him up, he’s probably not used to subspace. You try to pull him close as you finally lie next to him but he pushes your hands off. The disgust setting deep into his skin until it’s almost consuming him. You recognize that look in his eye, as you forcefully pull him toward the shower. You hand him the loofah, letting him rub his skin until its red and then yank it out of his hand. You’d only ever seen him like this a couple times before, when he decided to touch you on those rare occasions. You fear that this will break your relationship. That maybe you went too far with Roman. You turn around as he dries himself, you hand him a bottle of calming lotion. 

“For your skin, you rubbed it pretty raw,” You whisper afraid he’ll somehow runaway at your voice like a street cat. He tries to protest, “Put it on or I’m turning around and doing it myself,” You instruct. Making him feel like a kid again. 

“Okay buffalo bill,” He grumbles, slathering himself in the lotion as you put on your pajamas. He walks ahead of you fully dressed again, silently climbing into the bed, you lie next to him afraid he’ll try and run away but he does the unexpected. His head joins your pillow, his hand around your waist, as he breathe in your scent. For once in his life he stays held together, just slightly tattered and bruised because he's just a boy and you're just a girl. He sighs contently as you hug him back, your touch makes all the voices go away as he dozes off to sleep.