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[ OC x Canon ]

I have come to offer more OC x Roman Roy stuff <33 weird nepo babies ft an absurd amount of unhealthy codependence. Public decency is a foreign concept I'm so happy I got nice comments on my last post about Cecilia TT please do feel free to send me asks about her/them I am down to draw them in situations

[ OC x Canon ] I'm in the trenches send help

Two Young Women Kissing (1790s) by Louis-Léopold Boilly.

phone. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Dom!Reader Summary: You and roman talk over the phone, stuff happens along the way

Word count: 2.115

18+ only! More under the cut,

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, degradation, pillow humping, phone sex, implications of jealous/possesive roman

A/n: as DJ Khaled said, "another one."

_______________________

It's unusually dark in Roman's apartment.

You squint your eyes, looking around for any sign of him, hand busying itself to locate the light switch. "Romes?" There's no reply, and as you finally manage to switch the lights on you realize he isn't here. The shoes he usually keeps sprawled by the door are missing, as well as the scarf you had given him for his last birthday.

You shrug off your jacket and hang it, noticing how Roman's lighter jacket seems to be missing as well. Cautiously, you walk around the empty space. You take note of the way he left his cologne on the coffee table without its cover, and as you go to his bathroom you see his aftershave is uncrewed, too. He was clearly in a rush.

His bed is messy, as it always is when he's left to deal with tidying the sheets himself. You chuckle at the shirt of yours peaking out from under his pillow. It takes a lot of mental strength for you to not snap a picture for future teasing material, and instead kick your shoes off. 

His scent surrounds you as you nuzzle into his goose feather sheets. The scent is sharp, and woody, and clearly trying too hard to be noteworthy. But deep in those harsh, overpowering scents of desperation, you smell the chamomile from the 'calming room sprays' he always claims to be buying ironically. You also smell your own perfume, and with enough focus you can even smell hints of the vanilla of the soaps you use.

The sudden ringing of your phone startles you. You fumble a bit trying to remove your phone from your pocket, smiling as you realize it's the tiny devil himself calling.

"Romes?"

"Don't 'Romes' me, where in shit's name are you?" he immediately grumbles out, not giving you a second to trade simple formalities. 

You can't help but laugh at him. "And hello to you, too. What do you mean, 'where am I'? Where are you?"

He groans, then mumbles something far too incoherent for you to pick up over the phone. "Uh, at your fucking apartment? Did you seriously forget about me that fast? I'm seriously regretting hooking you up with that new job, since you're now apparently too cool for little ol' Romes." After a few seconds of processing his words, you frown. "Wait, what? You're at my apartment?" 

"Okay, yeah, you totally forgot, and I just embarrassed the fuck out of myself for breaking and entering. Nice knowing ya, I'm gonna go jump into a river or some shit," he mumbles underneath his breath. Even through the phone you can tell he's pacing around. "Can you even swim?"

He scoffs at that. "The fuck kinda question is that? You don't ask a guy about to take a cyanide pill if he's well versed in medicine, do you? Twisted bitch." Your frown deepens the more you listen to him. "Roman, we were supposed to meet at your apartment, you do remember that, right?"

It's completely silent on the other end of the line for a few seconds. Then, "Oh fuck off, you are not at my apartment right now. Just admit you forgot and let me go cry-jerk myself to sleep in your bed," he huffs out, trying to fight back the strain in his voice.

"Romes, I'm laying in your bed right now." He laughs at you, clearly doubtful, but as he quiets down you get the feeling he's starting to believe you.

With his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear, Roman looks down at the pillow of yours he's holding. It's a long one, for your neck or something, and he relishes in how much it smells like you. "So what, we're at each other's apartments, laying in each other's beds, like total fucking idiots?"

You can't help but snort at that. "You're the idiot, since I'm at the right apartment. Also, way to go snitching on yourself. You better have removed your shoes before getting in my bed," you say, tugging at a bit of string connected to one of Roman's pillows.

"Yeah yeah, my shoes are off. I am gonna piss on all your furniture, just so you know. I need to mark my territory as the alpha and all that," he jokes, swiftly unzipping and shuffling out of his pants. "Oh, I'm also gonna sleep here because I can't be fucked to call someone to drive me back. Your bed is comfy as shit, anyway."

You let out a humored chuckle, quickly putting the phone down and removing the top layers of your work clothes to leave yourself comfortable. The sound of his voice is small, so after getting settled back in you grab the phone and place it right next to your head.

"Sorry, was getting comfy, what's up?" 

Roman lets out a low whistle. "So basically stripping naked? That's hot. You should take pictures of your boobs or something and send them to me," he says, his clutch on your pillow growing tighter as he continues, "we could have hot and heavy sex over the phone, like they did in the 60s when FaceTime and pocket pussies weren't a thing."

"I'm down if you are," you reply as casually as you can, despite the fact that the idea of it excites you. Roman seemingly chokes on his own spit at that, coughing for a few seconds. Ad he clears his throat, he awkwardly unbuttons his blouse as he keeps the phone flush against his ear.

"Oh yeah? What're you wearing, then?" he asks in a try-hard sultry voice. It's hard not to laugh at that, but you manage. "A 17-inch strap on with LED lights, what about you?" Roman lets out a forced moan in reply. "God, that's fuckin' hot. I'd see my insides glow all kinds of pretty colors and shit," he forcibly continues moaning out.

With his blouse fully unbuttoned he shuffles it off, ignoring the fact that he somehow is already getting riled up. Maybe it's the fact that he's surrounded by your presence, or maybe it's the fact that your voice is dangerously near your ear. 

Whatever it may be, it makes him move a shaky hand down to his length, applying a singular squeeze to himself and fighting back the hiss he wants to let out. "Seriously though, can you at least try to hide the fact you smell my shirts while you sleep? They're just sticking out," you chuckle out, tugging at the shirt you had previously spotted.

The silence on his end is oddly tense as you fully pull the shirt out, and you quickly realize why.

"Roman... do you actually cum on my clothes?"

He lets out a quiet 'fuck', keeping a solid hold of his cock through his underwear as he realizes he's been caught. "Shit, I-- yeah, I do, sometimes," he weakly stutters out. You tut at that, heat pooling in the bottom of your panties. "So, what, you jerk off sniffing it and thinking of me, or...?"

Roman's breathing slows, turning into weak pants that you can pick up on your end. "I, uh, yeah." A devious grin tugs at your lips as you shimmy yourself to a more comfortable laying position. 

"What do you think about?" It's a simple question, really, but the way Roman gasps through the phone makes it worthwhile. "I dunno, just-- fuck, things," he struggles to groan out as he rolls to lay on his side, the pillow he was clutching automatically slotting between his legs. 

His cock throbs with need, but something about using your pillow seems too much, even for him. Your shirts, and the occasional pair of underwear were one thing, but your bed felt so clean. Roman didn't want to be the one to make it-- make you dirty.

"Do you think about me touching you?" You hear him mumble out a small 'yeah' in response. You respond back with silence, quietly urging him to keep talking.

His clutch on your pillow tightens, knuckles turning white. "I think about you hugging me, 'cuz you always do when you see me," he whines out, as he continues fondling himself with his one hand while the other keeps its hold on the pillow. "You always, uh, squeeze? And you just smell really good, which is nice, I guess."

"Is that all?" You smile at the whine Roman lets out. "Whatever, I like other shit, too," he mumbles out, trying his hardest to practice restraint.

"What's 'other shit'? Like last week at that fundraiser in the closet, did you like that?" you coyly ask him. The drawn out moan he lets out at the memories is like musicto your ears. "Uh-huh," he weakly moans out, the muffled sound of fabric shuffling causing your mind to race with thoughts of what he's doing.

Roman's hips start a hiccup-y rhythm, attempting to grind into his own touch as he thinks of that night. You had toyed with him all night, dishing out casual yet flirty touches to whoever was there, shooting him a wicked grin any time he caught sight of it. When he had dragged you into a closet to try and stop your little show, you had demanded he went on his knees and apologized for his behavior.

By the end of it, Roman was a sweaty mess as he ground against your leg, trying desperately to keep quiet as you taunted him. Just thinking of how nasty you were to him that night, despite you gracefully letting him use you to get off, sends his head reeling as he gasps at his own touch.

You snicker at the desperate noises he's making. "Are you touching yourself Roman? In my bed of all places? You have no shame, do you?" 

"None," he whimpers out, pulling down his drawls to let his reddened and leaking cock spring out, smacking against his stomach. "Are you using your hand to get off? You sick, fucking puppy?" Roman groans out a quiet 'yes' as he carefully strokes himself at an unsteady rhythm. "I w'na use your pillow, can I-- fuck, can I please use y'r pillow?" He gasps out deliriously.

The shocked laughter you let out through the phone is genuine as you realize he's really into this. "Seriously? How fucking disgusting can you be, asking for my pillow? Was using my clothes to jerk off not enough for you, creep? Go ahead and use it if you're really that much of a degenerate."

He immediately places the pillow on the bed and goes to lay on his stomach, moaning as his dick makes contact with your pillow. He doesn't waste any time, immediately picking up in thrusting speed as he revels in the friction the pillow gives against his cock.

"Oh my god, you're actually doing it. Rutting into my pillow like a dog in heat, absolutely fucking revolting," you hiss against your phone, "y'know I have cameras in my room? I could easily send everyone you know the footage of you fucking my pillow like a flithy pervert. You'd like that, anyway, freak."

Roman's moans grow louder by the minute, every one of your poisonous words shooting straight to his cock. "Fuck, 'm close," he groans out, sweat rolling down his forehead as he desperately chases his release. "Are you seriously going to cum on my pillow, Roman? You're a genuine embarrasment, god."

His breath stutters before he lets out a gutteral moan, ropes of cum shooting onto your pillow and most definitely permanently staining it. "Jesus fuck, Roman, you're a legitimate freak," you giggle out through the phone as he slowly comes to, pants coming out muffled as he buries his head into the unused pillows. 

"What the fuck, man," he groans out, phone still held against his ear. You let out a chuckle, glancing at the time on your phone and realizing it's gotten quite late. "You doing okay, Romes?"

He lets out muffled noises of confirmation. "Yeah, just fuckin' tired now. Thanks for the, uh, phone sex. It was great." 

"Go clean yourself up, Romes. And just put the pillow somewhere in my bathroom, I'll take care of it." He lets out a small whine, awkwardly tucking himself back into his underwear before shuffling to your bathroom. "You're legit going to be the reason I die an early death. I'm gonna fucking, cum my brains out or some shit," he mumbles out as he drops the used pillow on the ground, grabs some wipes and cleans himself up a bit. 

"Sounds like a great way to go out," you hum out in reply.

"Of course you'd think that."

e-mail. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: You're roman's assistant, and after delivering breakfast something clicks.

Word count: 2.154

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, mommy kink, praise kink, hand jobs, come eating,

A/n: tysm @prettywordsblog for the request!! :DD i love your writing so it was a pleasure to get requests from you (my requests are still open, fyi)

_______________________

You've been wearing pencil skirts and heels a lot these days.

It's not that you particularly enjoy wearing them. Running errands like "get me a bagel" and "actually, I want a cinnamon roll instead, so get me one of those" do not become easier with red bottoms, and the cold of New York in autumn nips at your barely clad legs with ferocity. 

But when you wear them, Roman becomes... docile.

Maybe it's the fact that the heels make you taller than him. Or shit, maybe he has a sexy assistant fantasy, who knows. All you know is that when you dress the way you now do, he hesitates when he snidely asks you to write his e-mails for him. Instead, he carefully suggests you should do them, not a singular perverted comment slipping in.

So now, as you walk out of the elevator, you hear the clicking of your heels echo. It's far too early to be in office, evident by the lack of your peers in the bull pit.

You huff as you approach Roman's office and see him lounging around, legs on his desk as he leans back, staring at his phone. You don't even bother knocking, simply swinging the door open. "I know it's like, three in the morning, but can you at least try to pretend you're being productive?" 

He lets out a huff, dramatically rolling his eyes as he flops his legs down. "Yes, mommy," he mockingly whines out, staring at the plastic bag swinging from your arm. "What's in the bag?"

"A gun, so I can finally kill you," you casually throw out as you place the bag on the glass coffee table, throwing off your long jacket onto the leather chair he has. Roman stands up, amusement twinkling in his doe-like eyes as he walks over to sit on his couch. "Y'know, I could totally report you for saying that. That's like, a legit death threat. I could SWAT you." With a tiny jump he hops on the chair, shoes still on as he crouches on top of the couch's pillows.

You can't help but frown. Sometimes you feel like he isn't a total nepotism baby, but instead some kind of orphan child raised by wolves. "Don't do that with your shoes on, Roman, it's unhygienic." With another eye roll he lets himself fall onto the chair, resting his one leg on the thigh of the other. He leans back, arms reaching over the couch's back cushions. 

You grab the contents of the bag and place them on the coffee table as you hum a random tune. The smell of a breakfast spread makes you hungry as hell, but you don't have another break until six hours from now. Silently, Roman watches as you place the various foiled up plates down and remove the foil. 

Roman eyes the dishes-- an omelette, some sausages, bacon, hash browns, and a paper cup of coffee that he's sure is from his favorite café. "Okay, this is fuckin' weird. What's the catch? Did you get a chef to make all of this arsenic-infused? Because as my assistant, you're also my taste tester, so I'm not eating until I see you poison yourself first," he rambles, cautiously watching you place napkins, a fork and knife down.

"This is a congratulatory breakfast, so just shut up and be grateful." 

He raises his brows at you. "The fuck are you saying congrats for?" With the tiniest smile you could stomach giving him, you throw the plastic trash in the bin. "The Oplex deal, Roman. You were the one who ended up buttering the guy up," you explain. 

His eyes widen for only a second before returning to their neutral, lidded state. "Oh please, all I did was give him a verbal fuckin' blowjob. Kendall did all the business-y shit," he mumbles out, picking up the cutlery with a solemn expression.

"I'd disagree, and I think Mr. Roy would, too," you mumble out in return. You watch Roman as he takes the first bite of his omelette and moans, quickly scurrying to get another bite. "Fuck, this is good. Is this laced? I'm gonna fire the shit out of you if this is laced," he says in between bites.

You grab your coat from the chair and hang it up, smiling as you continue watching him from the corner of your eye. "I'm flattered, but no. I'm just a good cook." You fight back a laugh as he very clearly chokes on his food. Professionalism and all that, if there's even any left between the two of you. 

"You're fucking with me." You plop down on the leather chair across from Roman, grabbing your thermos from your bag and taking a sip of tea as you shake your head. Wide-eyed, Roman gawks at you, then the food, and then you again. "You made me breakfast?"

You simply nod before pulling your laptop out. "I wasn't expecting you to be surprised by that. You're the one who always calls me mommy," you mumble out as you watch e-mails and messages immediately start to pop up. "Now finish up your food and get to work, before you upset mommy."

With a teasing grin you wait for Roman to shoot something back. Maybe something about you getting reported to HR, or about you wanting to suck his dick. Maybe even one of those jokes he makes about how his dad only hired you to be his personal babysitter. 

But instead, you simply get,

"Yes, mommy."

Confused, you look up from your laptop to see Roman quietly eating his food. His cheeks are dusted a ripe shade of red as he struggles to cut his food up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

Something that should've clicked ages ago, clicks. So carefully, you stand up and walk to stand next to the couch he's sitting on. Roman's head looks up at you, eyes large and lashes fluttering. His bottom lip stutters, as if he wants to say something, but it doesn't successfully form itself.

"Do you need me to help you with your food, baby?"

Your heart pounds in your chest as you await his response. Nervously, he scans your face, licking his lips as he mulls over his options.

"Yes mommy," he yet again mumbles out.

You take a seat next to him and wordlessly grab the fork and knife from his hand. "I hope you know I'm proud of you for landing that deal, baby," you tell him as you put a piece of the sausage on the fork. He doesn't hesitate to open his mouth for you, obediently letting you feed him in his office, in a building his dad owns. 

"You made mommy so proud. When we finish up here, can you go sit at your desk for me?" He nods as you continue feeding him, which continues for another silent fifteen minutes.

After wiping his mouth for him, he quickly scurries to his desk, staring expectantly at you as you slowly make your way over. You place one hand on his chair, and the other on his desk, leaning over to stare at his computer screen. 

Roman lets out a soft groan as your tantalizing perfume overwhelms your senses. All he can do is look up at you as you start up his computer for him. "You have an e-mail you need to write regarding a contractual agreement with a production studio. Can you do that for me?"

It's like he's possessed by you, charmed into a spell of utter submission as he can only mutter another 'yes, mommy'. He opens his mail, and right as he starts typing you tut.

"Mommy wants to hear you say what you're typing, so I know you're doing well," you tell him, hand moving down from his chair to instead rest on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he nods, clears his throat and with a shaky voice reads aloud to you. 

"Dear Mr. Spruce, attached is a--" his voice dies in his throat as you let your hand slither down lower and lower, testing the waters as you fully bend over to reach his lap. "Keep going, sweetheart," you tell him, watching his twitchy hands hover over his keyboard. 

As he continues where he left off, you carefully unzip his trousers, loosening the top button and successfully revealing a dark imprint showing through his white Calvin Klein boxers. "Attached is a, uhh, a copy of the contract, fuck." 

The moan roman lets out as you pull his briefs down, allowing his erection to spring free and slap against his covered stomach, is whorelike. "Keep going, baby," you hum in his ear as you unbutton the bottom of his blouse a bit, wanting to avoid his pre-cum staining a perfectly good shirt.

"Please, mommy, fuck," he whines out as you let a singular finger drag over the tip of his cock, already causing his hips to rut up. "This e-mail needs to be sent today, Roman. Keep typing if you don't want me to get angry."

He nods fervently, shakily continuing to type as you carefully take his erect cock into your hands. He stumbles over his words, moans and hiccups filling your ears as you stroke him at a slow pace. You let your hand squeeze the base before going up, applying the perfect amount of pressure before rolling your thumb over his leaking slit. 

Roman's eyes quickly turn glassy with welled up tears as he's made to endure your slow, torturous movements, and as much as he wants to please you, writing the e-mail would be the actual death of him.

His hands shoot away from his keyboard to clutch onto his seat's armrests. With a wanton moan he throws his head back, eyes screwing shut as you slightly pick up your pace. "You've been such a good boy for mommy, Roman, haven't you?" you ask him, voice dangerously low and dangerously close to his ear. 

"Ngh-- yes, so so good f'r you, mommy." You kiss his forehead, earning yourself a cute whine. "W'na kiss you, please, mommy," he moans, head struggling to reach yours. "I'll give you a kiss after you finish the e-mail, alright sweetheart? For now," you tell him, grabbing his hand and leading two of his fingers into his own mouth, "I want you to be nice and quiet for me while I take care of you."

With a lack of hesitation he accepts his own fingers into his mouth, immediately sucking on them as his eyes flutter closed, and his moans grow strained. "Do you like it when mommy takes care of you, Roman?"

He nods, writhing under your every touch. He gasps around his own fingers as you pay extra attention to his tip, instant over stimulation taking over his body as his hips twitch up to meet your touch. "Mmh, would you let mommy fuck you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," he groans out, removing his own fingers to instead find hold in his chair's armrests again. "W'na feel you around me, feel you-- fuck, feel you squeeze my cock." You increase the speed of your strokes, watching your boss fall apart in front of you. His hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his lips are as rosy as they are glossy with spit.

The veins on his forehead and neck look like they're about to pop as you whisper in his ear. "You wanna feel mommy's cunt as she milks you dry?" All he can manage to let out is a desperate 'uh-huh', clearly close to reaching completion.

"'M gonna cum, mommy, I'm g'na-" Roman gasps out, cutting himself off with a drawn out moan.

"Cum for me, baby."

With a moan so slutty you could confuse it for porn, Roman finishes, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your hand as you stroke him through his orgasm. Even when he's emptied out you continue relentlessy, earning you a teary-eyed Roman as he begs for you to stop. 

Hiccuping, he grabs your arm. "Too sensitive, mommy," he groans out, trying to catch his breath. You decide to have mercy on him, removing your hand and instead hovering it in front of him. "Clean mommy up?"

He simply nods before licking your hand clean, tongue lapping between your fingers as he practically sucks off his own semen from your fingers. With your hand clean, he lets himself sink deep into his chair.

"That was, uh," he mumbles as he mindlessly stares at you as you wipe his saliva off on your pencil skirt. You don't say anything, simply walk back over to your laptop. "I'm gonna finish up scheduling for next week, alright Roman?"

He blinks a few times, processing your words before awkwardly agreeing with yet another nod. "Oh, and make sure to write that e-mail," you add, turning to now fully focus on your own work.

"...yes, mommy."

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.

⋆⭑✦⭑⋆

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.

Ooops...

My latest hobby is to find the most ridiculous ways to censor risky parts of my artworks. I had wayyyy to much fun drawing that peach for this silly joke.

Comic is inspired by a scene from the first episode of "Domina". Watched it because of Tom Glynn-Carney and I wasn't prepared to get booty flashed before even half of the episode was over.

My first thought once my brain had rebooted (no pun intended) was "yeah that´s totally something Aegon would do."