#roman porno

[teledyn]

ANTIPORNO Trailer - Roman Porno Reboot - Directed by SION SONO (Cold Fish)

American porno is boring

[bimbomoviebash]

Angel Guts: Red Porno, 1981

[japanfilmclub]

The Watcher in the Attic (1976) 『 江戸川乱歩猟奇館　屋根裏の散歩者 』 Written by Akio Ido いどあきお Directed by Noboru Tanaka 田中 登

[marypickfords]

Apartment Wife: Affair In the Afternoon (Shōgorō Nishimura, 1971)

[eyeronmaus]

[the-sprog]

I think Celebrity Number 6 is my favorite internet collective project. It's amazing. I have no clue who it could be, but you bet your ass I still keep an eye out just in case I happen to stumble upon the correct image.

Some people think the photo must come from an Italian magazine circa 2006, and that's the most recent theory.

It's insane. The internet is forever sure but good luck finding the right thing you're looking for XD.

[pettyprocrastination]

what succession characters would pedro’s characters be?

I can't tell if this question si asking what succession characters are most like pedro characters (in that sense- fucking max philips to roman roy pipeline to the max) OR if youre asking me to make up some silly little fucked up business men oc with his face, to which I will do that one for funzies

he'd play either a lawyer or journalist. One of the side characters who shows up occasionally but is still known well-enough by the inner family for them to call him by his name whenever he does a weird little speed-walk/baby-jog to catch up to them at like every convention or celebratory outing where he'd cajole them into giving a small statement and twist their words but it's all in good nature because he's on their paychecks and slips them a notice when there's a nasty story about competitors. They def call him names behind his back of course. The kind of guy to wear tweed and sweats a lot, Roman says he looks like a perverted archaeology professor from Oregon and calls him limp dick. He's mostly addressed by his last name so its like 'McDaniels' or some shit.

do you have any thoughts of what he'd be? This could be an incredibly fun conversation as i procrastinate on my other exams hehe

[bigdaddykeene]

A mother's work is never done.

Flower & Snake (1974) dir. Masaru Konuma

[mcsockeye]

Listen fanfic takes time to write if it's gonna be any good

imagine if we could weaponize fandom culture for good

and by good i mean flood the entire internet with petabytes of gay art featuring every civilization that fascists like to appropriate

drown out the fascism with Caesar taking it up the ass

[z3nitsusgf]

omg help me your Roman Roy fic was amazing,,, you truly have a gift .

we need more Roman pussy eating fics! just thinking about his hands moving up your skirt, you sitting up on his big important boss man desk, his face buried between your legs, stubble grazing your inner thigh, you grab his hair and your back arches, head thrown back, your gasps and moans are echoed by his own as he gets off from eating you out.

You resist the urge to make a sound. Even though he’s lapping at your cunt like a fucking dog, you restrain yourself. You gnaw on your lip, feeling the busted capillaries at the surface release that familiar iron taste. You’re wet, embarrassingly so. You can hear the slick sloppy sounds of Roman sucking at your clit. You’re breathing heavy, panting and clawing at his desk as if that’ll help.

Anyone could walk past and see you getting tongue-fucked by their bosses son. Not that they’d say anything, but you’d be absolutely mortified.

“Roman- please, you can’t,” you squirm when he nips your folds, “not here.”

He groans, you sound so whiny. So breathy and on the verge of crying. He grips at your hips, your pencil skirt slid up and pooled around your waist. Panties tugged down (semi-ripped) across your ankles.

“Shut up.” He mumbles into you, the stubble across his jaw prickling your inner thighs. You jump at the feeling, squeezing around his head. You whine, trying not to kick up your legs and crush him.

“Just let me fucking drown myself in your pussy.”

He’s pawing at your hips, slipping them from outside to in. Running clean hands across your jumpy thighs and over your slick folds. He smashes his thumb against your sticky clit, rubbing sloppy harsh circles against the soft bud. Your hips stutter, he chases your bucking hips to rub at your clit.

“Sensitive?”

He asks with a grin, he knows you are. He loves it. You whine, feeling the wet stickiness between your thighs drip.

“Roman-“

There’s most definitely a puddle of cum and slick underneath your ass. But Roman doesn’t give a shit, he’ll probably get some underpaid janitor to clean it up. It’s not like they haven’t done it before. Vaguely, you wonder what would happen if someone important saw. Like his brother, or his dad. Or even Gerri.

“Fuck, you’re fucking dripping.” He mumbles, hair messy and swept back. Strands of brown draping across his wide eyes and tickling your thighs.

You let out a yelp when he buries his face back between your legs, licking from the bottom of your cunt to the very top. It’s like he’s making out with it, dipping his tongue in and moaning at the way he can feel you clench around the soft pink muscle. He’s almost tempted to just say fuck it and fuck you over the desk. Who cares?

You feel like you’re gonna pass out. You’re panting, chest heaving and you scratch at his expensive glossy desk, nails trying to find purchase without tugging at your bosses hair. Your moans have his cock leaking against his slacks, staining the light grey dark. He tries not to hump the air, but it gets harder with each passing second. He might cream his pants if he’s not careful.

“Gonna soak my face, hm? Gonna get nice and fucking wet for me?”

You wish you could say you hate the way he speaks to you, but you’d be lying. It makes you whimper and drip and clench around nothing. Nodding your head and shuffling your hips to try and get a better angle. Roman grins like a fucking demon, staring up at you while he demolishes your pussy. Sucking at your sensitive clit and pressing his thumbs into your thighs to hold you open. It’s debauched, messy and wet. The definition of slutty.

It’s like the middle of a shitty porno, a boss eating out his favorite assistants cunt on his desk. Uncaring of the consequences because he’s never had to face them before.

Because who’s gonna tell the Roman Roy shit?

[gilverrwrites]

★ Daddy's pornstar ★

Black Mask/Wayne!Reader, 4.8K AN: Based on, (but not 1:1) on this ask! It just activated something in my brain and I had to put it into words. I could kiss you anon! FYI, he's (partly) maskless in this one, just because I felt like shaking things up a bit. Warnings: Roman being absolutely foul, he’s a warning all of his own. Swearing, blackmail, dub-con, insults/name-calling, spit, ass to mouth but barely, spanking, choking, verbal degradation, unprotected sex, manipulation, lying, gratuitous daddy kink. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. Excerpt: “Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.” “Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will. “Alright. I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

Selina had told you once, after helping your father take down an infamous Gotham-based trafficking ring that the little spiel adult actors give at the beginning of pornos was often complete bullshit. When Cherry Rose or Missy Sin said, “I’m of sound body and mind, and I consent to everything I’m about to do.” they were fucking themselves, metaphorically and literally. That as soon as those words were caught on tape, sketchy cast and crews could use it as a free pass to do whatever they wanted to those performers without repercussions.

That fact, while upsetting, hadn’t really solidified in your head until you were staring down the lens of a Panasonic camcorder, barely faking a smile as you made the very same speech, wondering how many pornstars had been blackmailed or otherwise under duress from the start.

“Don’t look so glum, doll. You’re gorgeous.” Roman's gravelly voice is thick with conceitedness. More than usual. He’s seated just to the side of the camera, smiling at you like he’s the cat and you’re the cream between puffs of a cigarette. His eyes shamelessly rake across your body. It’s not clear if he’s appreciative of you in general or of the sheer, feather-hemmed lingerie he’d picked out for you. It’s exactly the kind of thing you’d expect to find on the body of an heiress gone wild in the pages of an 80s Playboy magazine; cute but still a humiliating mockery of the rich kid archetype the media so loves to sexualise. From the shade of pink that compliments your skin tone perfectly, to the way it tastefully clashes with the bedspread, you're pretty certain Roman has put a lot of thought and planning into this whole production. “If you ever wanted to get out from your father’s shadow, you could make a killing in the adult industry.”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about him right now.” You don’t even want to think about him. Not just because it’s a figurative boner killer, but because he’d be so angry, so disappointed in you and your actions. You stare at the blinking red light of the camera as you try not to recall the destructive series of events that had led you here. The reckless, downright stupid behaviour that had handed Roman the ammunition to bend you to his will.

“Alright.” His smile twists then, into something wicked and you will the heat growing in your stomach to cool. “I’ll be your daddy tonight.”

The suggestion simultaneously makes your skin crawl, and your hair stand on edge. You fight the lurch in your chest by scrunching up your face and glowering at his mask on the bedside table. It’s easier to be repelled by him when he’s Black Mask. He’s not really a person, he’s a symbol, a deity to all that’s wrong with Gotham and its seedy underworld. He laughs aloud, low and throaty, clearly enjoying your visible discomfort. God, you hate him. You hate his laugh. You hate his olive skin. His empty black eyes, his salt and pepper hair, the way he smells so good like sugar and spice and smoke. You hate the way he commands a room simply by being in it. But apparently not all of your body had gotten the memo.

“Agreed?” He says sarcastically, the implication that you don’t really get a choice hangs thick in the air and you nod in reply until he fakes a cough to draw your attention back to him. “Out loud, for the camera.”

“Yes…” He quirks a brow at you, eyes fixated on the shake of your breasts as you attempt to steady your breathing. The name feels wrong on your lips, you haven’t even called your own father Daddy since you were a little girl, but you manage to bite it out. “Daddy.”

“Good girl.” It shouldn’t, but the way he drawls the pet-name makes you feel flushed. “Well, what are you waiting for? We’re rolling.”

For the first time since you’d met him here, you look at him dead on, staring dumbly, hoping for at least a little direction. You’d never done this sort of thing before; you didn’t know where to begin. And you certainly didn’t want to perform so badly that he made it an excuse to have you do it all over again. He stares back at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hungry, watching you expectantly.

“Touch yourself.” He clarifies impatiently. “Play with your tits, finger you pussy, whatever you do when you’re lying in bed alone at night, wishing somebody would fuck you the way you need.”

But you don’t want to be fucked, at least that’s the story you’re feeding yourself. You half gesture to your nether regions as you whisper. “But I’m not wet yet.”

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, cause you’re not very bright, are you?” He states sharply, straightening his posture and biting his tongue in annoyance as he stubs out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. His patronising should piss you off, but instead you’re embarrassed. You wish you’d had something to drink before coming here. At least then you could blame your simmering arousal for his mistreatment of you on being tipsy. “Come here.”

He grabs onto your wrist, standing to tower over you as his gloved hands tug you across the bed. Much to your shock, he spit down onto your open palm, amusement palpable as he watches your shocked face.

“What’s the matter? Think you’re too good for my spit?”          

“No.” You do. You are. However, ‘no’ instinctively felt like the right thing to say.

“No? Good.” The grin on Roman’s face is pure malice, it makes your heart drop and your knees weak. “Open your mouth for me.”

When you take too long prying your dried lips apart, Roman releases your wrists in favour of gripping the back of your head, yanking you back until your mouth falls open to cry out in pain. Before you know it’s happening you feel a glob of spit hit your tongue, and suddenly your bodies desire for him finally wins. You don’t need lube anymore, your folds growing slicker with each second sat under his burning gaze. The shame of knowing he caught it all up close and personal on film only fuelling the fire in your belly. Your whole body practically boils at your indigent actions as you close your mouth and swallow.

 “Very good girl.” Roman offers his approval as he releases you, falling back to his position beside the camera.

“Thank you, Daddy.” You’re not sure where the sudden bravery comes from, but you reply cutely as you lay back on the bed once more, spreading your legs and showing the camera how your newfound wetness has started to seep through the delicate fabric. 

“Beautiful.” Roman coos, and it’s the most genuine sounding thing he’s ever said to you. The confusing mix of pride and self-loathing has you grunting in annoyance as you push your fingers under your waist band and begin to run your fingers between your folds, collecting moisture from your leaking entrance and rubbing it against your sensitive clit.

You’ve masturbated many times before, but you’ve never been able to cum from your own hands alone. Now seems a bad time to bring this up, so you channel all your energy into it, building as much friction as you can with your hands and focusing your mind on how good you feel right now. Multiple times Roman has to whistle at you, drawing your attention away from the ceiling and back to the camera as you attempt to force your climax. Each time he looks less entertained by your wandering eyes, until eventually you look over at him only to be greeted by the sight of his penis. Immediately you look away once more, gawking down the lens of the camera, no doubt looking flustered and debauched.

“It’s okay baby, you can look at it.” It’s not really a suggestion, so much as an order. Even when he’s speaking softly, he sounds dangerous, so you angle your head to the side. Watching as he idly pumps away, matching your own strokes with a now ungloved hand. “Like what you see?”

A part of you had been hoping it would be smaller, uglier, something to turn your nose up at, but by all accounts, Roman Sionis has a fucking beautiful cock. Something else you could hate him for. It’s straight, cut, a few shades darker than the rest of his skin, and just big enough to stretch you out in all the right places if you sunk low enough to let him fuck you. A thought that’s becoming more and more appealing with every brush to you heated core.

“Yes.” You strain to form words, joints twitching as you continue to play with your oversensitive, under-climaxed cunt. “Your dick is… nice.”

He chuckles at you, again. While admittedly it was not a good word choice, his constant amusement really makes it difficult to ignore the fact that this is all fun and games to him. You’re a joke, a pawn in his agenda. Damn if the sight of him, leaning back, nonchalantly jerking off over your display doesn’t make your toes curl. But it’s still not enough.

“If you hurry up and cream those pretty panties, I‘ll let you play with it.” You surprise him, and yourself by dramatically kicking your feet against the mattress.

“I can’t!” It comes out petulant and needy. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’ve never been able to do it myself.”

His eyes narrow, head rolling from side to side as he processes your predicament and considers his next move.

“Sit up and look into the camera.” He eventually instructs, standing up himself to get a good look at you through the viewfinder. “Ask daddy real nicely to help you cum, and I might fuck you with my fingers.”

You can feel his eyes glowering into you through the camera as you hesitate. Deliberating whether you’re really going to beg Black Mask to get you off as you follow his command. The moment your fingers seize movement you feel lost. Yes. If it’s the only way to sooth your desires, then yes, you’re going to swallow your pride and beg him.

“Please daddy.” His eyes don’t leave the screen as he bites down on the tip of his remaining glove to remove it, nor when he loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt. “I need you, please make me cum.”

“I think you can do better.” His hard-on would disagree, but you’re in no position to point that out. “Roll over, put your ass up for the camera and keep begging for me baby.”

Somehow, having your entire sex front and centre for the camera, hardly concealed by your see-through panties feels a thousand times more exposing than anything you’ve done do far.

“Please.” Your voice grows smaller, but Roman is having none of it.

“Louder.”

“Please fill me with your finger, Daddy.” You start again, willing yourself to speak as loudly as possible. Calling him daddy feels less and less forced each time it rolls off your tongue. “Please, please, please. I’ll do anything.”

Even in your current state, the irony of your last statement isn’t lost on you. Regardless, it has the desired effect. You wait with bated breath, listening to each footfall as Roman deliberately drags his feet across the carpet until he’s stood behind you, completely out of the cameras view you presume but for his hands which come up to cup your ass. You can’t help but moan as he digs his nails into the fat of your cheeks and makes of show of jiggling them.

“Barely even touched you and you’re already cryin’ out like you’re in heat.” He comments, smug as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and works them down your thighs. He teases you by running his pointer finger lightly across your slit, void of any pressure, before delivering an unexpected slap to your cheek. Your legs flinch, another pathetic whine escaping you in reaction, but ultimately it only adds to your pent-up frustration. Only makes you want him more. “You act so prim and proper, but I always knew what you were.”

“What- ” Your question is silenced as Roman finally sinks two fingers between your pussylips, lazily brushing them against your clit in circular motions. It already feels so much better than you’d accomplished alone. You’re so caught up in the feeling that you no longer care about your rapidly deteriorating dignity when he uses his thumbs to pull apart your lips, showing off your dripping entrance, wolf-whistling as he gives the camera the money shot.

“So fuckin’ wet.” Despite his statement, Roman hawks another bead of spit onto it before sliding two more fingers in without resistance. “D’you know what this is?”

“It’s my pussy, daddy.” You answer earnestly, eyes rolling back at the feel of him plunging inside you.

“That’s right baby.” He purrs. “Your pussy. The pussy of a cock hungry slut.”

“Or maybe it’s mine.” He continues, unapologetically shoving his long fingers in and out of your cunt at a demanding pace. All the while his other hand strokes your clit. The wet squelch that emanates with every touch makes you feel so lewd. You squeeze your eyes shut, holding back hot tears of humiliation and desperation as Roman easily brings you closer and closer to the edge. “Maybe I’ll claim it. Maybe I’ll put my nice dick in there and pump you full of daddy’s cum.”

“Fuck!” You can’t think straight, the only thing on your mind is how fucking good this feels. How much better it would feel to have Roman’s cock pulsing inside you. A damp slapping sound begins to ring throughout the room. You realise quickly that it’s your slit, smacking against Romans hands as you subconsciously rock back onto them, matching his rhythm.

“Is that what you want baby? D’you want to give daddy your pussy?” He growls, perfectly in time with the eruption of your orgasm.

“Yes, it’s your pussy, Daddy. Take it, take my pussy.” The words roll off your tongue completely uninhibited. You’ve no capacity to censor yourself, to think for yourself as shockwaves roll through every vein and nerve of your body. “I want your cock, Roman. I want your cum. Please ruin me.”

Roman lets you ride it out, holding still while you grind against him until you come to a complete stop, quietly panting into the comforter until he’s satisfied that you’re done. Then before you know what’s happening, he rips his hands back and delivers a series of rapid strikes to your ass. Harder than the previous one, sure to leave a mark.

“What’s. My. Name. Bitch?” He bites between each hit. “Whose. Your. Fuckin’. Daddy?”

The sudden change in pace has you reeling and scrambling to pull away, but Roman follows until you surrender. “Daddy! You’re my daddy!”

“And don’t you fuckin forget it.” It’s absolutely an order, bitter and laced with scathing levels supressed rage. A reminder of who he is and that he’s calling the shots right now. “Get up here.”

As soon as you’re in range to be gripped without roaming too far into frame, Roman locks his hands around you, manhandling you until your back is to his chest. His hand is around your throat, squeezing just tight enough to restrict but not stop your breathing as he threads a finger between your ass cheeks, poking at the rim of your hole. For a second, he cinches his grip on your neck, causing another tear to roll down your face, adding another streak of mascara to the dried marks from your finger fucking.

“Call my name one more time baby, and I won’t just ruin your pussy.” To emphasis his point, he bullies the tip of his finger inside, grinning when you whinge at the dry, hot pain. “And trust me, no amount of spit is gonna help you then. Got it?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry.” He pulls his fingers back from your ass, your sigh of relief cut off by his stiffening grip on your windpipe once more. Instead, you let out a pathetic mix of sputtering and moaning. You deliberately try to stay limp for him, obedient, but when he brings the fingers he’d been fucking you with to your mouth your muscles automatically tense. His warm digits pass your lips, and he brushes his musty fingers on your tongue, forcing you to taste the bittersweetness of both holes. You instinctively try to protest but all that comes out again is weak gasp and strings of drool.

“You like how you taste?” He mocks. “Like being choked?”

If you say yes, he might do it more. If you say no, he’ll definitely do it more, so you hedge your bets and nod for him, coughing out a sad little “yes” around his finger.

“Fuckin’ whore.” That infuriating laugh, again. This time more to himself than to you as he releases your neck and steps away from the bed. He surveys you for a moment, examining your position on the bed as you gasp for air before grabbing the tripod and moving it further down the bed.

“Get on your hands and knee, facing the camera this time.” Once you’ve caught your breath, you reposition yourself as instructed. Weary eyes watching as Roman retrieves his mask from the nightstand. The cosmetic red eyes stare you down as he crosses the room to stand behind you. The bed dips under his weight and your hazy brain finally clicks why he’d been so pissed at you for using his name. It’s not just a humiliation thing. He intended from the beginning to remain anonymous, even if the video was solely for himself.  Everybody knew Roman was Black Mask, but nobody could irrefutably prove it, a technicality that kept him out of prison.

The train of thought however is lost when Roman barks out his next instruction. “Take the bra off.”

You're way passed modesty at this point. Frankly, you're relieved to be rid of the plasticky faux feathers digging into your cleavage.

If your bare and open core had been the money shot, this would be the clickbait. A Wayne Scion stripped naked and practically presenting herself for one of Gotham's most notorious crime lords. Sure, nobody could confirm it was him, but between the voice, the suit, and the mask, it was obvious.

You’re grateful when Roman doesn’t spend much time admiring or groping at your breasts, but that gratitude is quickly swallowed by torment when he starts repeatedly thrusts his shaft into your slit, denying your cunt in favour of teasing your clit. The sensation causes you to clench around nothing. Having barely come down from your previous orgasm, your body greedily wants more.

“You should know by now what I want to hear.” Roman croons, securing a hand on your waist to keep you still as he drags the tip of his cock between your folds. He wants you to plead, and at this point you'd do anything to finally feel him inside you. “Don’t make me ask you for it.”

“Please, Daddy.” Clearly also feeling eager, Roman is quick to line himself up with your entrance, pushing in just deep enough to part your labia, but withholding any satisfaction. You let out a salacious moan, nonetheless. “Please fuck my cock hungry pussy!”

“Oh, I’m not just gonna fuck it, baby.” His cock plunges into you without resistance. He’s not overtly thick, but your walls immediately start spasming and stretching around him, hugging him tightly in all the right places. Mouth and pussy drooling for him in an instant as he begins ramming in and out of you, allowing you no time to adjust. It hurts like hell for a few moments, but the pain is so worth the pleasure. “I’m gonna ruin it. That’s what you wanted, right? Want me to pound this filthy fuckin’ cunt like nobody else ever has. You're not gonna want anyone else by the time I’m done with you.”

Every nasty word out of his mouth feels like a threat, it only adds to the sex drunk haze that fogs your mind, and he just keeps snarling. For the first time in your tenuous relationship, you hope he never shuts the fuck up.

“You fuckin’ love it.” He snaps, gripping the back of your neck to keep your head up, all the while slamming into you at a painful pace, knocking the wind out of you as you sob for the camera. “Say it. Say you fucking love being a helpless whore, split open on Daddy dick.”

Any words out of your mouth at this point are completely unintelligible at best. Broken, feeble cries at worst. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to say. Eventually you manage to muster a small “Please… please I want…”, relying on Roman’s strength as you reach for your clit. You’re so damn close, you just need that little push. “Want to cum.”

To his credit, Roman knows exactly what you’re asking for, batting your uselessly pawing hands out of the way so he can rub at your tender bud in short teasing motions, making you arch your back into him.

“You’ll cum when I cum.”

“C-cum in me.” Once again, your voice is barely a whisper, strangled by your tensing muscles, shaken with every snap of Romans hips as you selfishly beg for his release so that he’ll give you your own. “Fill my whore pussy, please, daddy.”   

Sick, loud, slapping echoes through the room as Roman hammers into you, using your body to chase his orgasm in bruising, frenzied strokes. His body shudders, breath growing hoarse as he finds it. The combined feel of fingers kneading your clit, and the heat of his seed releasing inside your guts has you tumbling straight after him.

“Take it.” The command isn’t necessary, your walls are milking him for all he’s got as your body trembles beneath him, ecstasy making every aching bone feel like putty as he ladens your sex with his seed. He just loves the sound of his own voice. “Take all of it you greedy little bitch.”

Roman’s breathing is erratic. He stays put, dick growing soft inside you for a long time as he steadies himself. As your high begins to falter you start to process the reality of what you’ve just done. Fortunately, you can find solace in the fact that it’s over.

To nobodies’ surprise, Roman is the first to talk. Finding his voice again as he finally pulls out of you.

“I was serious you know.” A chill runs along your back as he skims a finger between your swollen folds, collecting the excess of his cum. “I've got some live-in cam models over in Tail’s End. You’ve got the potential to make it big, doll.”

“No thanks.” Despite your deadpan, when he guilds your weak body up and shoves his sticky fingers in your face, you open wide, unashamedly cleaning every speck until he retracts them. You watch as he holds them up to the light, inspecting your work. Face now hidden behind his fearsome mask, you’ve no idea what he might be thinking which is probably his intent.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs, your body falling forward at the sudden weight displacement as he stands. Your legs are still like jelly, so you resolve not to move until they’re steady or he’s gone. Which ever happens first.

“I gotta head out in a minute, you know your way to the door, right?” You only nod. Quickly coming down from your post-orgasm high whilst you watch Roman making himself presentable again. Well, mostly presentable. He re-buttons his shirt, straightens his tie, and redons his gloves. There is however a wet patch on his crotch, cause by you no doubt. Dependant on where he’s going, you wouldn’t put it past him to leave it on display so he can brag about his latest lay. “Oh, some of Penguins boys are trying to move in on The Basin. Be careful if you're passing that way.”

“Why?” He got what he wanted from you. What should he care what happens to you know? Tim is currently building a case on Cobblepot. So, the only part of that statement you care about is how you’re going to feed that intel to him without revealing your source.

“I don’t want that creature puttin’ his hand on what’s mine.” What’s his? He says it so factually it’s almost laughable. Sure, he’d been a good fuck, but that wasn’t enough to keep you coming back to him. Cocky bastard.

Despite your derision, you nod, humouring him. The sooner he leaves, the better. Then you’ll rarely have to see him again. “Right.”

“Don’t clean up.” He rattles off another demands, now focused on the camera. His hands work quickly, turning it off and ejecting the memory card so fast it must be muscle memory. He’s done this sort of thing before. How many others had he extorted like this? When the memory card is tucked safely away in his wallet, Roman scoops the discarded panties from the floor, pressing them to his wooden nose and sniffing before tossing them over to you. “Put those back on. I want you to stink of your own arousal all the way home. Want you to feel all that cum inside you and know who put it there.”

You can’t hold your contempt back any longer at this point. Glaring, you scoff at him. “I’ll pass.”

“I don't think you understand the nature of our arrangement.” He snarls back. You were so close to being rid of him but now he’s doubling back to you. The permanent leer of his masks red eyes staring you down as he leans close to your supine form. “You don't get to pass.”

“My debt to you is paid.” You spit. When you make to sit up his gloved hand latches onto your jaw, muffling your speech as you try to argue with him. “Tonight was me getting straight with you.”

“Thats right.” His faux-soft tone contrasts with the demeaning drip of spit he aims onto your cheek. In retaliation you attempt to pull away, digging your nails into the thick fabric of his suit jacket to no avail. “I’ll make sure nobody in Gotham, especially that bitchboy father of yours ever finds out about your little incident.”

Rubbing in his control over you, Roman begins massaging his saliva into your skin. Seemingly trying to clean up your smudged make-up, no doubt purposefully smearing it further around your face.  

“But unless you want the contents of our little home video on the homepage of every tabloid and gossip site in the country, you'll keep doing as I say.”

The reality of the situation kicks in, and suddenly you do feel like a little girl. Roman Sionis had tricked you, he’s never intended to make things even. From the moment he’d ‘requested’ a meeting, he’d been planning on keeping you under his thumb and like the naïve child you were, and you’d fell for it, every step of the way.  

“You promised nobody would ever see it.” Your voice is small and pitiful, even to you. No doubt Roman is grinning like a fat-cat beneath his veneer.

“And if you make a liar out of me, neither of us is going to be happy.” You’re not proud of the tears the follow, releasing Roman’s arm in favour of dabbing at your eyes. Breathing deeply, you try to stop from blubbering. You’re so angry, but you don’t have the energy to fight. “Now you're getting it.”

You sit stiffly as Roman’s leather clad hand wander your face. Patting and pinching your cheeks in mock affection.

“This is a cute look. Bet your brother's fawn all over it. Personally, I just wanna stick my dick between those pouty lips.”  His words sting, they make your stomach nauseous. Your brothers would fly of the handle if they could see you know. Jason in particular would probably be more pissed than your father.

Eventually Roman releases you, and you hastily stand to start redressing yourself, but as you do his cum begins to trickle out from your still gaping cunt, and you almost retch at the feeling.

“This must be hard for you. Tell you what, why don't you stay here? Avoid the family until you've come to terms.” Continuing to parody genuine tenderness, Roman catches your wavering body and brings you close, gently wrapping you up in his arms. You can’t deny it feels nice, his warmth, his smell. Your fickle centre betrays you, growing wet once more, even as the rest of your body wants to curl up and die from your foolishness. “I've got some business to attend to, but I’ll be back in a few hours. Get some rest, and when you're good and ready we’ll test how much of daddy’s cock you can take down your throat before you start choking?”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The noise I made when Pedro Pascal came on screen in full Roman armour belonged in a budget porno. I am gonna need 3-5 business days to recover. If anyone finds my dignity, please return it.

[cagepup]

it showed me a roman porno after 3 hours of sloppy t4t sex <33

[panikea]

Niki podświadomie szukała czułości. A im była starsza, tym bardziej widziała, że mężczyźni nie potrafią jej zaoferować. Mają w głowie tylko sceny z filmów porno. Uważają, że kiedy je zastosują, sprawi jej to przyjemność. Czuła, że traktują ją jak zwierzę albo jak trofeum. Teraz, już po trzydziestce, powoli zaczynała dochodzić do wniosku, że mężczyźni nie są zdolni do miłości. Są zdolni tylko do pożądania.

Piotr C. z powieści Roman(s)

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Oreo

Synopsis:  As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails. Taglist: @renys @falsemood

Part Seven: Aftermath Masterlist

A loud bang wakes both Virgil and Roman up at the same time following the aftermath of their late night, leaving Virgil heaving as he bolts upright, attempting to catch his breath after being startled conscious, while Roman immediately juts his bottom lip out and dramatically flings his blankets away, before turning and stomping towards his door. 

“You could stand to be a little quieter, you know!” Roman prissily shouts, pulling his door halfway open. In response, heavy footsteps come running down the hall, followed by Remus suddenly jumping on Roman, tackling him to the ground.

Virgil crawls to the edge of the bed and watches the two tussle, with Roman rolling them over and easily keeping Remus pressed to the ground, but that angle just allows Remus to spot Virgil, which immediately has Remus grinning and squirming to get away. Roman lets him go, despite Virgil’s immediate anxiety at the sight. 

“Woah!” Remus exclaims, making a mad dash for Virgil - who scrambles as far back on the bed as he can go. 

Remus reaches the edge of the bed and slams his hands down against it, rapidly looking between Virgil and Roman. He snorts. " Geez, Roman. When I dared you to ask this loser out I didn’t expect a whole relationship to blossom out of it.” 

“Stop, Remus,” Roman sternly says, a lot more serious than he was mere seconds ago. 

Remus turns to look at Roman over his shoulder, a sick grin on his face, before looking back at Virgil. “You’re all snuggled up in his bed, huh? You think he likes you?” 

“Remus-” Roman is grabbing Remus’s upper arm and pulling him back, before pushing him back towards the door. “Out.” 

“Is he going to be here later?” Remus asks, as he’s shoved rather firmly out past Roman’s bedroom door. He lingers in the hallway to add in a sing-song voice “I’ve got some mandatory tutoring after school and - if you’ve ever watched a good porno - you’d know things might get a little freaky!”  

Roman slams his door shut. 

Virgil’s hand is pressed against his chest, eyes wide and focused on the comforter he’s kneeling on. Roman stands at his bedroom door for a few moments, breathing deep, before turning back to Virgil. 

“I’m so sorry,” Roman says, as he moves towards Virgil, but as his fingers slide against Virgil’s shoulder, Virgil hits him away. 

He doesn’t say anything; he just gets up and slides out of bed, before shoving his hand down the side of his jeans, pulling the seams away from his legs. Sleeping in them was the worst mistake he could have possibly made, though it’s not like he had any other option. 

There’s silence between them, and it hangs heavily in the air. For about a minute, they just stand there, both of them avoiding looking at each other, until finally Roman’s alarm rings and breaks the silence. 

Roman quickly turns it off, and softly says “we have to get ready.” 

Virgil sneers immediately. “I don’t have anything to get ready with.” 

Roman comes around Virgil’s side and gives him a small smile, though Virgil doesn’t return it. “You can borrow my comb,” he offers, as he gently takes Virgil’s hand. “And I keep spare toothbrushes under my sink.” Roman guides Virgil through a side-door, and into a conjoined bathroom. 

He directs Virgil to a lower cabinet. “There,” he says, as he grabs a rag and wets it with warm water. 

Upon opening it, Virgil does indeed find a collection of unused, multi-coloured toothbrushes with toothbrush covers clamped on every one of them sitting inside a small white vase. There was also a collection of cleaning products, bath salts, and other luxuries. Virgil grabs a purple toothbrush.

“Why do you have so many toothbrushes?” Virgil asks, as he runs the bristles beneath the running faucet. Looking around for toothpaste, Roman hands him a tube. He puts some on his brush, runs it under some more water, and then starts brushing his teeth. 

“A lot of my buddies don’t remember to bring theirs over when they sleep over,” Roman explains, as he grabs his own toothbrush. His vibrates. “And I absolutely can’t stand bad breath. Especially because they’re really into invading personal space.” 

Virgil spits into the sink, before mumbling “gross.” 

They finish brushing their teeth, and then Virgil haphazardly runs Roman’s comb through his bangs before handing it to Roman who picks it clean of loose strands before more carefully working it through his own hair. Virgil stares at him for a moment, before leaving the bathroom, and searching for his phone. 

He digs around the bed sheets, thinking it probably slipped out of his pocket or something, only to see it plugged in on the floor, next to Roman’s phone which is a lot nicer, and also plugged in with a separate cord. 

Frowning, Virgil snatches his phone off the charger. 

He sits on the edge of Roman’s bed, turning his cell on and clicking around mindlessly on a view apps, before his phone lights up with a text from Janus. 

‘If you don’t come downstairs and answer your door, I'm going to break through your window.’ 

Virgil stares at the text for a second, before snorting and pinching the bridge of his nose. It takes him a few minutes to respond, but eventually sucks it up and says ‘i’m not at my house. you and Logan can just head to school.’ 

Janus responds almost instantaneously. ‘Where are you?’ followed by ‘Did you run off to join your estranged father on vacation?’

‘funny.’ Virgil’s fingers are rough against the keyboard. ‘no.’ 

‘Then where are you?’ 

Virgil hesitates. He looks over his shoulder and back towards the bathroom, where he catches Roman applying cream to his face, rubbing it firm into his tan skin. After a few seconds though, he looks towards Virgil, and smiles when their eyes meet. Virgil quickly looks away, and quickly replies ‘Roman’s.’ 

Janus is quiet for a few moments, with three dots popping up, disappearing, and then popping up again. Virgil can only imagine what he’s going to say. 

‘You DO like him’ Janus texts, with ‘I fucking knew it!’ following it up. 

‘i’m only here because he invited me over.’ 

‘So? You still accepted the invite.’ 

Roman comes into the room to grab a change of clothes. He and Virgil again look at each other, before Roman gives a meek smile. 

“You can wear some of my clothes, if you want,” Roman offers. “I don’t know how well they’d fit, but that way you wouldn’t have to go in what you slept in.” 

Virgil scoffs. Roman’s clothes wouldn’t fit him at all. “I’ll pass.” 

Roman heads back into the bathroom, presumably to change. Virgil looks back down at his phone. 

‘You still accepted the invite’ Janus argues. 

More defensive now, Virgil replies ‘i didn’t want to go home and be alone.’ 

‘You could’ve come over here.’ Janus punctuates his message with a broken heart emoji, sent solely to make Virgil cringe. ‘To my house, I mean. Me and Logan would have loved to have you over.’ 

‘and interfere with the plants you guys had already made? no thanks.’

‘“Plans,”’ Janus repeats, and Virgil can only imagine him rolling his eyes at his phone screen, not dissimilar to how Virgil was rolling his eyes at Janus’s words. 

‘We’ll discuss this at school’ Janus then insists, making Virgil groan. ‘Don’t be late again.’ 

Roman emerges from his bathroom properly dressed, and tosses his clothes from the night before in a nearby hamper. He grabs his phone from his charger, and then gathers his bag.

“You ready?” he asks Virgil, who clicks his phone off, as though embarrassed at the idea of Roman looking over his shoulder to find Janus mocking them for hanging out. 

“I guess.”

Roman leads Virgil outside and to his car, making small talk as they get in, though Virgil doesn’t seem too keen on reciprocating his formalities. 

“Can’t believe the week’s almost over,” Roman says, in an attempt to make conversation. “It’s already Friday.” 

“Yup.” Virgil leans against the window as Roman starts the car. 

“Would you… would you want to do anything with me this weekend?”

“I already spent last night with you,” Virgil bitterly responds. “Isn’t that enough?” He turns to look at Roman, who’s staring out the windshield. His lips are pressed into a thin line. He glances over at Virgil, and quickly looks away. 

Virgil shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and sort of half-heartedly adds “I… I also don’t know if I’ll have stuff going on or not. Like… my dad could come home, or Janus could come over… just… yeah.” 

“Well, if you don’t have anything going on….” 

Virgil sighs. “I’ll think about it.” 

Roman smiles, and reaches over to grab Virgil’s hand, causing Virgil to look down at their entwined fingers. Roman had been holding his hand a lot lately. Not like Virgil minded. 

Virgil then cringes. He didn’t mind? 

He flexes his fingers, feeling them start to sweat, but Roman doesn’t mind, and just gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. They stay affectionate up until Roman pulls into the school parking lot, which is when Virgil finally wrangles his hand out of Roman’s grasp. 

Roman glances at him, and then chuckles. “What? Embarrassed?” 

“Yes.” 

 Roman laughs as he exits his car, with Virgil throwing his door open before Roman can circle around the side to chivalrously open it. 

Virgil hurries away from Roman as Roman tries to walk beside him, but eventually their paths diverge and they both head towards their own lockers. Unfortunately, Virgil finds Janus waiting for him at his. 

Smugly, Janus begins with “so.” 

“So,” Virgil mockingly repeats, as he opens his locker up. Janus sneaks around it so that he can gauge Virgil’s facial expressions as Virgil grabs some folders from his locker. 

“What did you and Roman do last night?” 

Janus’s innocent tone contrasts with the mischievously nosey expression on his face. 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil truthfully responds with “I took a nap and then we went on a walk. That’s it. 

Janus groans. “That’s it? That’s so… underwhelming.” 

Pushing his locker shut, Virgil turns to Janus, his annoyed expression shifting into one that’s calmer. Sure, Janus is teasing him, but Virgil can appreciate the lack of judgement from him, especially considering the few stares he gets even without Roman at his side. 

“What did you and Logan do?” Virgil asks, in an attempt to change the topic. “Anything exciting?” 

“No, unfortunately not.” Janus walks slowly with Virgil, who eases up his typically fast-paced gait to accommodate. Janus’s lips are thinly pressed together, as if suppressing groans of pain with each shuffle forward. “He helped me with some homework, and then I made him dinner. We sat on my roof for a bit. Nothing special.” 

Virgil hums. 

Janus, however, directs the topic back to Roman, though now it seems like it’s solely to feed his own curiosity. “What was his house like?” 

“Big.” 

“Was Remus there?”

“Only this morning.”

“What were his parents like?” 

Virgil adjusts the straps of his bag. “They were sweet. Talkative. Gay.”

Janus smiles, nodding, as though pleased by this revelation. “All good things, it seems.” 

As they near their classroom, Janus suddenly slows to a stop. He glances around, attempting to avoid any eavesdropping ears, before lowering his voice and asking “did you guys sleep in the same bed?”

Virgil immediately shakes his head. “No. Hell no. He slept on the floor.  

“And let you sleep on the bed!” Janus gasps, before dramatically sighing “what a gentleman!” Upon seeing Virgil frown, Janus snickers and continues his line of questioning. “What about your guys' walk? Did you kiss under the moonlight?”

"No."

"Did you hug under the moonlight?"

"Nope."

"Did you at least hold hands under the moonlight?" 

Virgil bites his lip, and Janus gasps again.

“Premarital hand-holding!” Janus accuses him, before shaking his head in playful disapproval. “Virgil, I honestly expected better from you!” 

“He grabbed my hand!” 

Virgil intentionally excludes the part where Roman lifted and held him. 

Janus elbows Virgil’s side. “I think that means he likes you, too.” 

“I don’t like him at all!” Virgil argues, pushing Janus away from him. “And he doesn’t like me. He’s just entertaining this stupid… idiotic… childish game! The moment things are broken off, it’ll all stop.” 

“Sure it will,” Janus sings, before stepping into the classroom, and settling down at his desk. Virgil looks towards his own seat, and frowns when he sees Roman sitting in a chair in front of it, already turned around and facing where Virgil will inevitably be sitting. 

Virgil trudges to his seat, where Roman’s smiling at him. 

“Do you want to go see a movie tonight?” he asks, before Virgil’s even sat down fully. 

“What?” Virgil asks, as he settles into his desk. “What made you think of taking me to see a movie?” 

“Remus mentioned a really good horror movie that was coming out soon, and I was hoping you’d go see it with me.” 

“I hate horror movies.” 

Roman sighs in relief. “Oh, thank god. I hate them too.” Roman laughs softly. “I would have sat through one with you, obviously, but admittedly blood freaks me out. And knowing Remus, horror and gore are basically a two-for-one deal.” 

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Why?” 

“Hm?” 

Virgil plays with his hands under his desk. “Why would you sit through a horror movie? If you knew it’d freak you out, then why even risk going to see it?” 

“Because if you liked it, then it’s just an hour or two of discomfort.” 

“That’s… that’s weird.” Virgil’s eyebrow is raised, staring at Roman in a mixture of surprise and confusion. “You shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t force yourself to be uncomfortable for my benefit. Or for- for anyone’s benefit.” 

Roman chews his inner cheek, looking suddenly troubled. He avoids Virgil’s eyes. 

Suddenly, Virgil feels an urge for things to be more light-hearted again. He doesn’t much like Roman without a smile on his face; it feels… bad. 

“If you can find another movie, though, I’ll consider going with you,” Virgil says, shrugging. He looks to the side and sees Janus, who’s leaning forward on his desk with his head resting atop his knuckles, smirking at Virgil’s words. Virgil’s face immediately goes bright red in embarrassment, but Roman’s countenance lights up in excitement. 

It has Virgil hiding his face. He doesn’t understand why Roman is so excited over this. 

He’s probably just happy to be getting out of his house, Virgil tells himself. Most people would be. He isn’t excited to see a movie with me. He’s excited to see a movie in general. 

“Can Logan and I come, too?” Janus suddenly asks, causing Virgil to raise his head in surprise. He himself is relieved at the question, but nervously looks towards Roman. Much to his surprise, Roman seems excited at the prospect. 

“Of course!” Roman replies, leaning closer to Virgil. “You can help us decide on a movie. Is that okay, Virge?” 

“Don’t call me that,” Virgil mumbles, looking between Janus’s winking face and Roman’s excited one, before nodding, “but yeah, that’s fine. That sounds fine. If Logan’s fine with it then sure, I’m fine with it.”

“Logan will be fine with it,” Janus quickly assures him. “As long as we don’t watch something stupid.” 

He pulls his phone out, presumably to text Logan, while Virgil turns to Roman, who seems overly gleeful at this opportunity. He reaches across the desk to grab Virgil’s hands, and squeezes them. Virgil flushes, but doesn’t pull his hands away, letting Roman simply caress his knuckles and gaze at him until the first period bell finally rings. 

[monstersinthecosmos]

Okay so like your fics about Armand pegging Daniel are my Roman Empire and Armand just shows up with the strap right. But I GOTTA KNOW what was Armand’s experience like shopping for that item, how many stores did he go to, did he do research, did he ask the clerks weirdo questions??? How did he settle on the item, did he deliberate over realistic veiny dildos vs simple colorful silicone???

Inquiring minds need your headcanons!!! 🥸

fdfjhsDGA what an honor omg

So!!!!!!! Pardon this obnoxious little break down of where this shows up in my fics but I have some behind the scenes knowledge I can share that I carried between stories LOL. Okay so there are 4 fics that revolve around the first time they used a strap on, and the idea is planted in my FIRST FIC ON AO3 Moon Above, Sun Below where it’s literally just the last paragraph of the fic, they’re taking a walk, Armand sees a sex shop, and he’s like OMG!!!!! :D

Down Below is the DIRECT sequel to that moment, it picks up with Daniel’s POV immediately knowing that Armand IS going to be asking weirdo questions! And he’s like, oh my christ I can’t do this lol, and he goes to wait outside.

The cashier asked me if I knew what to do with them. He told me to be ‘Safe, Sane, & Consensual.’ It was on a sign at the register.” Daniel chuckled a little. “Why did he say this to me?”

LIKE WHO KNOWS WHAT ALL HE FUCKIN TALKED ABOUT IN THERE, I just always imagined him doing his Armand thing, wanting to catalog everything and learn everything and see and touch everything. The answer is yes, he did ask a million questions, yes, the cashier was a little freaked out, because even when we all like to say that no one can be weird in NYC, I think Armand was very fucking weird and uncanny in a way that actually did stick out to people.

And then the MAIN EVENT if you will is The Lotus Eater/Dust of the Saturn which contain the alternate POVs of the same scene. In The Lotus Eater, I tried to create a timeline and imply that this is one of Armand’s Things for a while that he’s interested in, like he wants to go to different shops and see things and buy things. They play with cuffs and restraints earlier in the fic because Armand wanted to play with them, and then later on Armand wants to WATCH ALL THE PORN, and he gets the strap on idea from seeing how Daniel reacts to it when they watch a video, so he goes out to find one. 

I don’t think I said so in the fics but I imagined that Armand wanted to find one that was like the one in the video, so there was possibly a very odd Armand-eseque interrogation of the retail worker. LOL. Probably him describing it in an Armand way and the guy is like “……. Uh????????????? You mean a dildo? Like a black dildo? Okay?” 

I wish I still had my notes and stuff because I know I had a few photos I had used for reference to describe it and I can’t find them now. I do know that I searched like 1980s sex toys/dildos/strap-ons pretty extensively because I wanted to make it historically accurate. I looked up pictures of sex shops to get an idea of how different they are from today and what the selection was like. I also had been looking up vintage lesbian porn to see strap ons because I was curious how the harness technology was different, like if they looked different, if they were sturdy, if they seemed weird and floppy, etc. So if I recall, the one I described in the fic was just like one I’d seen in an actual porno LOL, and so I want to submit that idea forward to say that Armand was trying to find one like the one int he video. 

It says this in The Lotus Eater, too:

The man at the register wanted to see Armand’s ID to make sure he was old enough before engaging in conversation. He explained how to affix the implement to the harness, and told Armand how he should “start with something smaller” and tell his “girlfriend” to be “careful” the first few times. But no, no, the size is fine, don’t worry, we’re experienced, it isn’t a problem, thank you, no thank you we don’t need condoms, yes I’m sure.

Cause like does ARMAND KNOW THAT HE ASKS WEIRDO QUESTIONS?? Did that guy think Armand was the weirdest customer he had all week and Armand didn’t even register it? Lol. This is, after all!!!, a story about Armand re-entering human society and learning how to People.

So yeah I like to think he was picky, but he was looking for the one in the video, which is the one I saw in a video LOL and also that like, from my research at  the time I don’t think sex shops were like the glittery COCK EMPORIUMS of today, so like some of these decisions like what color it was or how veiny it was might have not really been a huge decision because there might not have been a huge selection. And I think like, in this situation in particular, even though Armand has been trolling Daniel for a while and fucking with him, I think this is one of the big moments for them (in the Usherverse anyway lol) when he starts like being a little more serious about his feelings and seeing Daniel in a new way, and curious about how this will feel for himself as well, so I don’t think it was appropriate to go with like a monster dong or ones with bumps or anything wild like that, I think he went simple. They got into all the other weird ones later! :D

Here's some photos from the early 80s I found that helped me make all these decisions and sculpt my mental images, for your Devil's Minion needs!

Also these links have some really cool photos of SEEDY RAUNCHY 80S NYC that I think about constantly and tbh maybe I've exposed a plot hole that HOW DID ARMAND HANGOUT IN NEW YORK AT ALL WITHOUT SEEING THIS BECAUSE THEY WERE EVERYWHERE but we'll pretend he was so hyperfocused on Daniel & his own lil hobbies that he had tunnel vision lol don't @ me