mean roman x sassy reader
❕cw❕mentions of sex, sexual scenes, pnv, fingering, oral, roman being rude.
face claim : 「 ✦mikey maddison✦ 」 my queen 😫😫
it was one of those parties, someone’s loft downtown that smelled like cheap wine and vanilla candle smoke.
you’d gone because roman said he’d be there.
he didn’t say why you had to come, but you did anyway,
the group was small but loud, his usual crew plus a few others from work or whatever social orbit he floated in when not avoiding real human connection.
you arrived late on purpose so no one would expect much from you, and immediately got cornered by his best friend who kept offering shots while asking if "romy" liked someone new lately???
as if anyone could stand him long enough for that conversation to happen naturally
meanwhile roman stood near the balcony door smoking a cigarette despite being indoors which only made sense coming from him really
roman noticed you before you noticed him.
he’d been standing by the balcony door for the better part of twenty minutes, cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
his eyes followed you for approximately three seconds before his expression soured.
he immediately looked away
you made your way toward him anyway.
roman exhaled smoke through his nose
“did you need something?”
“and nothing. i was saying hi.”
he didn’t even bother denying it
you leaned against the wall beside him
roman laughed once, dry and humorless
“you literally told me to come.”
“because everyone else here is boring.”
“so i’m your entertainment?”
“don’t make yourself feel special.”
“you really haven’t changed.”
“you could always walk away.”
roman looked at you for a long moment
“why would i let you think you won?”
“and you’re predictable.”
“you show up late, pretend you don’t care about anything, insult everyone who talks to you, then spend the entire night trying to get my attention.”
“i came because you invited me.”
“you’re the one who asked me to come!”
“and you actually listened.”
he gave you a mocking little smile
you shoved his shoulder lightly
“you bring it out of me.”
“no, sweetheart. you’re just like this.”
“you know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t like me, you sure spend a lot of time talking about me.”
“i talk about you because you’re a headache.”
he looked you up and down with exaggerated disbelief
“that fake offended shit.”
“maybe i’m actually offended.”
“and you’re still standing here.”
“because watching you get annoyed is fun.”
“you think you’re funny.”
roman’s eyes dropped over your outfit again
this time, he didn’t bother hiding the disgust on his face.
“you actually look fucking ridiculous.”
his eyes flicked over you again
you laughed incredulously. “then don’t look at me.”
“you’ve been staring since i walked in.”
“because i’m wondering how you managed to leave the house looking like that.”
“what?” he asked flatly. “you want me to pretend it looks good?”
“i don’t need your opinion.”
“clearly. if you did, you would’ve changed.”
“you’re being an asshole.”
“no, i’m being honest. there’s a difference.”
“you’re just pissed because i look good.”
“that’s what you tell yourself?”
“that’s fucking embarrassing.”
he took another drag of his cigarette, completely unfazed
“you walk into a room dressed like that and then act surprised when people look at you. what did you expect?”
“i expected you to mind your business.”
“i would’ve, if you weren’t making yourself everyone’s business.”
“you really think you’re better than everyone.”
“no,” roman said, looking directly at you. “i just think you’re better than this.”
and for the first time all night, roman didn’t smile.
“you want attention so badly,” he continued, voice low and merciless, “but the second you actually get it, you act offended. pick one.” roman exhaled the last of his cigarette smoke, crushing it under his boot with a slow twist.
the silence between you was thick, charged like static before a storm. his eyes stayed locked on yours, that cold indifference flickering for just a second… like something beneath it had shifted.
one hand caught your wrist, not rough, but firm, and in one smooth motion he yanked you forward and kissed you hard against the wall beside him. no warning. no softness. just heat and teeth and months of unresolved tension crashing together at once
his lips were cold from smoking but his mouth burned as he angled into yours with zero hesitation, the kiss aggressive, almost punishing in its intensity, as if kissing away every insult they’d thrown back-and-forth all night long., or maybe because none of them mattered anymore anyway
you gasped, but didn’t pull away, your body instinctively arching into him despite everything: despite hating how much power roman always held over your emotions; despite knowing this meant nothing good would come after; hells yes this is what you came here for without even admitting it to yourself
before either of you could catch your breath, roman was already walking you backward toward the nearest empty room, some random guest bedroom off the loft’s hallway. he kicked the door open without breaking contact, lips still fused to yours like they were competing for dominance.
when it finally clicked shut behind him, he spun and pinned you against it, hands rough on your hips as his mouth found yours again. no sweetness here. this wasn’t romance or love or any pretty lie people tell themselves about sex meaning something more
this was heat and frustration and two people who hated each other but knew exactly how to wreck each other in bed, the way only someone who really knew your body (and annoyances) could do
his fingers tugged at your top first, impatient, then his own jacket came off in one sharp motion before being tossed across the floor after that first kiss, hard, sudden, fueled by tension, they didn’t talk. they didn’t need to.
one thing led to another: clothes came off in messy tugs, not carefully undressed but yanked or kicked aside mid-kiss because neither could wait long enough for patience. zippers caught on fabric; a button popped off somewhere unnoticed; roman’s belt clattered loudly when he dropped it without ceremony
the sex wasn't romantic, it was intense physical connection wrapped in rivalry turned passion. every touch carried an edge of challenge ‘you wanna do this? prove it’ , every moan muffled against skin as if admitting how much they liked each other out loud would ruin everything
and somehow that night became a pattern over the next few weeks, a weird rhythm settled between you two.
you’d still show up to his stupid parties, late as always, and he’d still be leaning by the balcony or doorway, cigarette in hand, looking like he owned every room just by existing. but now? when your eyes met across a crowded space… something unspoken passed between you.
and then someone would suggest leaving early. usually him. “let’s go.” no explanation given.
within minutes of arriving at either of your apartments (sometimes his car was already idling outside yours), clothes were coming off again, no small talk needed anymore because this had become routine: kissing hard against doors or walls before even reaching the bedroom; moaning into each other’s mouths like it wasn’t okay to admit how much they actually enjoyed this; hands all over everywhere with zero hesitation
roman stayed rude though, that never changed
he’d insult you mid-kiss ‘you’re such a slut’, call out dumb comments during sex ‘why do you moan so loud?’ ,and immediately after, he’d roll away without cuddling or saying anything sweet, or he’d just get up, pull on his jeans buttoning them slowly while you were still tangled in the sheets, and grab a cigarette like nothing earth-shattering had just happened.
no ‘that was good’ no ‘you okay?’ no kissing your forehead or dumb romantic shit.
but here’s the thing: he always showed up again. every weekend without fail, sometimes even during the week if he was bored and knew you weren’t busy
and every time? it was more of that same heat: aggressive kissing, biting at your lip to shut you up when you talked too much mid-makeout, hands possessive like they owned whatever part of your body he touched
the sex got better with familiarity, less awkwardness about what either liked because by now both of you knew exactly how to push buttons (both physically and emotionally) for maximum effect
you moaned loud around him, couldn't help it; this man drove you crazy in all kinds of ways , but roman usually stayed silent except for occasional grunts or sarcastic remarks thrown into intimacy like punctuation
the fight started small, you were at roman’s place again, sprawled across his couch while some stupid show played in the background. you’d woken up late, stolen his coffee, argued over what to watch, and spent most of the morning doing absolutely nothing.
too comfortable, apparently
roman stood in the kitchen, lighting a cigarette when he said,
“you’re way too fucking clingy when you sleep.”
“good morning to you too.”
“do you want me to schedule a meeting with myself before bed next time?”
“you’re fucking annoying.”
“and yet you keep inviting me over.”
“don’t flatter yourself.”
“i’m not. i’m questioning your judgment.”
“you always have something smart to say.”
“you think you’re funny?”
he took a drag from his cigarette
“you don’t know when to shut up.”
“and you don’t know when to stop being an asshole. guess we’re both learning things today.”
“this attitude is exactly why you’re annoying.”
“oh, i’m sorry. would you prefer i sit here quietly while you insult me?”
“that would actually be an improvement.”
“wow. committed to being unbearable before noon, huh?”
“you’re fucking impossible.”
“and you’re emotionally constipated.”
roman’s head snapped toward you
“what the fuck did you just call me?”
“you really have to get the last word, don’t you?”
you wrinkled your nose at the cigarette between his fingers
“you smoke way too much.”
“and you’re going to smell like an ashtray eventually.”
“you’ve been complaining about my cigarettes for months.”
“because you smoke like you’re trying to personally keep the tobacco industry alive.”
roman gave you an unimpressed look
he rolled his eyes, taking another drag
“see? you’re doing it again.”
roman shook his head, a faint smirk finally appearing
“you’re such a pain in the ass.”
“and you’re addicted to cigarettes.”
“we all have our problems.”
the argument faded into that easy, familiar back-and-forth, bickering like always, but this time, something was different.
after he put out the cigarette (finally), roman didn’t say anything. no sarcastic remark. no walking away to do his usual post-smoke brooding in the kitchen.
his lips met yours, it was different
no force. no sarcasm or aggression behind the kiss, just warmth, and something dangerously close to tenderness.
roman kissed you slowly this time. deliberately. like he wasn’t in a rush for once, not pushing you against walls or devouring your mouth like he needed to win an argument through sex
his cigarette had been put out long before this; now there was just the faint ghost of smoke lingering on his breath as he tilted his head into the kiss, pressing soft but firm kisses that tasted exactly like tobacco, sweet ash and salt from where it clung to him
gentle pecks at first, testing maybe? seeing if you’d pull away?
but when you didn’t, when instead you leaned in, roman deepened it slightly
his hand came up without thinking,
fingers threading through your hair as if drawn by instinct rather than impulse
over the next few weeks, roman started showing tiny changes.
at first you barely noticed, just little things that didn’t add up until they did.
like him not immediately pulling away after sex. before, he’d roll onto his back with his arms behind his head and stare at the ceiling like he was mentally checking out. now? sometimes… he stayed close. a hand might linger on your hip or your waist, casual but lingering, as if unsure whether touching you was allowed unless initiated by him
he stopped leaving so fast
used to be: lights on, clothes back on within minutes of finishing anything intimate; then straight to smoking or texting someone else while sitting shirtless in bed looking aloof as hell
but lately? no more instant exits
if there was time and no plans, roman would actually stay in bed with you for hours afterward, not cuddling exactly because romantic gestures still weren't really ‘his thing’, but just, existing nearby
the change was subtle, almost imperceptible at first.
but roman started showing up to your place more often. not just when he felt like it, but actually texting ahead: ‘i’m coming over’ no questions asked, like it was expected now.
and once there? he didn’t just smoke on your balcony or sit in his usual detached way scrolling through his phone while you existed nearby
sat right next to you on the couch instead of across from you. put an arm around your shoulders without making a big deal out of it. leaned into hugs longer than necessary even if they were casual hello hugs
when you cooked? sometimes he’d hover behind you, not talking much, but resting his chin on your shoulder as he watched what food was being made
if a movie came on and nothing good happened for ten minutes? instead of zoning out or leaving entirely, roman would curl against your side, head gently landing against yours
it wasn't lovey-dovey stuff, not yet, and definitely still buried under layers of sarcasm and emotional incomprehension that defined him
there was one night, hot, messy, both of you breathing hard after too much intensity, that it happened
one second, roman was pounding into you with that brutal rhythm he knew drove you wild, skin against skin echoing in the quiet room, his cock stretching you deep and just right, and the next, your body hit a limit. oversensitive nerve endings flared as his hipssnapped forward again, grinding against your clit with too much pressure
a sharp gasp tore from your throat, half pleasure-pain, and before either of you could process it, he stopped.
his thick cock stayed buried inside but didn’t move an inch, no more thrusts or friction. just stillnes. heat between both bodies radiating like they were two live wires pressed together
then came the hold: arms circled around your waist andhauled backward until every curve of yours molded perfectly against him, back to chest now instead of being bent over like before
his face dipped into the crook of your neck for half a breath, maybe even exhaled there quietly, before speaking:
“fucking sensitive,” he murmured gruffly, but not mockingly exactly he sounded almost annoyed at himself for caring. “you’re so fuckin wet i can feel how worked up my dick got ya.”
not what tenderness, but action spoke louder anyway
even though he was holding you like that, close, warm, skin stil sticky with sweat, roman’s mouth didn’t stop.
not gone. never gone. but now they curled at the edges with something new, a teasing edge instead of pure sarcasm meant to hurt
he kissed your shoulder once before muttering:
but it wasn’t mean. said low and rough against your skin like an observation wrapped in affection he wouldn't admit out loud
then his teeth grazed lightly over your pulse point, not biting hard enough to mark, just testing, and followed by another soft kiss right after as if apologizing for almost being aggressive
his hands roamed too: one sliding up from hip to waist under the thin fabric of whatevershirt you were wearing; fingers tracing lazy patterns while still keeping you pulled tight against him chest-to-back
and when he finally spoke again, it came out flirty-snarky:
"goddamn… can't even handle me for five minutes?" a smirk laced his voice this time, not mocking you, but joking with you in that way only someone who's actually into someone uses
then randomly one night, no buildup, no warning, he decided to go down on you.
it wasn’t planned. not romantic or soft. just roman suddenly flipping positions during sex, shovin your thighs apart with zero ceremonyand dropping his mouth between them like it was the most natural thing in the world
his hands pinned your hips down when you twitched at first contact, firm but not rough, keeping you exactly where he wanted while his tongue dragged slow over sensitive skin
he said agains your heat before licking a stripe upward that made your back arch off the bed
“so fucking soaked already.”
a scoff laced with something almost impressed beneath all that sarcasm
thenanother insult slipped out mid-kiss:
“you really can’t handle anything unless i’m doing it for you.”
you gasped, hands flying to his hair, not pushing him away, just gripping because your brain short-circuited the second his mouth actually worked down there.
your voice cracked on his name, high and breathless in a way that made him pause for half a second like he hadn’t expected you to sound so wrecked already
and before you could recover from the shock of how good this felt, and how unfairly skilled roman was at everything, he bit, gentle but enough pressure, to make your whole body tense
he muttered gruffly between kisses lower now, tongue circling with deliberate slowness just to tease
but then again came one of those cutting comment:
“you’re whining like i’m hurting you.”
a mocking voice of his while his mouth worked magic between your legs.
“you’re so fucking sensitive,”
he grumbled right before sucking gently on your clit, just enough to make you whimper
“can’t even take it for five seconds without falling apart.”
his words were harsh. cruel almost. like always. roman never softened when giving criticism, verbal or physical
lifted his head just slightly, lips glistening, eyes dark and intense as they locked onto yours, and said something completely unexpected:
“but god i’m so in love with you.”
no sarcasm. no smirk this time.
just raw honesty dropped into the messiest moment possible: him on his knees, mouth wet from tasting you, heart wide open despite everything
you yanked his head up by the hair, hard enough to make him blink, startled.
his mouth was still wet. lips swollen from what he’d just been doing. eyes wide for once instead of half-lidded and bored like they usually were during sex
“what?” you repeated, voice shaky but demanding, because what?
roman had never said anything like that before. not ever. especially not mid-action, especially not after calling you desperate or mocking how sensitive you were seconds ago
he stared at you for a second, jaw tight like he already regretted saying it, then exhaled sharply through his nose
just held your gaze with that same intensity as if daring youto say something stupid first
you stared at him, heart hammering so loud you could hear it in your ears.
his face was right there close enough to kiss if either of you moved but he didn’t. roman just waited.
but the thing that made it worse was that
he wasn’t taking it back.
no sarcastic laugh, no ‘just kidding’, no deflecting with another insult or rolling away to light a cigarette and pretend nothing happened
after months of fucking around, after all the fighting, sleeping together randomly but not dating, arguing over everything from coffee cups to sleeping habits, this was how he chose to fucking say it?
while his mouth had been between your thighs?
the next morning was fucking unbearable
roman was already awake, staring at the ceiling with his arm over his face like he was actively trying to pretend you weren’t there
“you’re thinking loudly.”
you pulled the blanket closer
“i know what you’re going to say.”
his hand dropped from his face
“don’t say ‘okay’ like that.”
“like you’re waiting for me to start writing you poetry.”
roman sat up, glaring at you
“i say one fucking thing and suddenly you’re insufferable.”
“you told me you’re in love with me.”
“that’s kind of a big deal.”
“not if you keep talking about it.”
“you literally just admitted it.”
“and i’m already regretting it.”
roman stood, grabbing his hoodie
he stopped at the doorway and glared back at you
“you’re fucking exhausting.”
then he disappeared into the kitchen
“because i have a reputation.”
the week after roman’s confession felt strange, not bad, just different
for the first time since whatever the two of you had started, there wasn’t any rush to turn every moment alone together into something physical
you hadn’t been together like that in over a week, and neither of you seemed bothered by it.
roman still came over, sometimes he’d text you beforehand. sometimes he’d simply appear with coffee and act like it was completely normal, he’d sit beside you on the couch instead of across the room, he’d steal food from your plate, he’d complain about whatever you were watching, he’d still call you annoying at least three times a day, but then he’d stay, that was the part you couldn’t stop noticing, he wasn’t leaving after an hour anymore, he wasn’t looking for an excuse to disappear.
he just wanted to be around you.
one afternoon, you caught him half-asleep beside you while some movie played quietly.
you smiled despite yourself
you weren’t sure what you felt anymore
and somehow that was much scarier than all the arguments and tension had ever been, because before, you could tell yourself it was nothing.
two people who didn’t know when to leave each other alone, now there was a word for it
and you weren’t sure you were ready to give him one back, roman never pressured you, that almost made it worse, he didn’t ask whether you loved him, didn’t demand an answer, didn’t bring up his confession unless you did, he just kept showing up, kept making coffee, kept stealing your blankets, kept resting his shoulder against yours during movies like being close to you had become the most ordinary thing in the world.
and every night, after he left, you’d lie awake wondering when exactly roman had stopped being someone you couldn’t stand
and become someone you couldn’t imagine not having around.
the next few days were different
you didn’t mean for them to be
you just started pulling away.
texts took longer to answer. you’d leave roman’s place earlier. when he’d reach for your hand, you’d sometimes pretend not to notice, and roman noticed, of course he did
one night, you were sitting beside him on the couch, unusually quiet
“you’ve been doing that all week.”
“i don’t know what i want.”
you didn’t answer, roman’s jaw tightened
“doesn’t really matter if you’re trying.”
that made you look at him
“i’m not asking you to love me back,” he said. “i already told you how i feel.”
“then why are you acting like i’m something you need to get away from?”
“because i don’t know what i’m supposed to do with this.”
roman watched you for a moment
“are you gonna let me love you?”
and for once, you didn’t have a smart answer
sappy loves all of you so much!!
taglist: @relic2222 @pearlyrenae @lattetwirll @mommyevie @enslyyr @sweet2sin @sunoonii @gnariii @nesbi0 @ipeeglitter1999 @2rommyy @pirouette3x @we-finna-go-far @gunzs1ut2222 @jazminhands @seraphiclizbotomy @holacsh @baddestbitchtoeverlive @ilvyally @hearts4joycelynn @kp0p-dreams1utz @missmodelsexx @greensporevalley @gabisohot @angelceal @hotangelgirll @swgburnn @ang4lbaeexxxx @whisperingwisteriaa @rommami @luckythefantastic @nreadsss @inga-25 @solacordera @yrluvr22 @angelrazor6000 @fruitylooopy @bitchimmadashell @kingoveverything @kashybae @beloathedbabe @osxprincesa @frankoceanluver75 @the-sleepless-crow @pierettecholy @22angel2 @kynleelol @glitternv1olence @333benadryl @bigtittysgrandfather
