𝔦'𝔪 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔦𝔫-𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔯𝔟
mdni 18+ nsfw warnings/tags: f!reader, p-in-v, unprotected, implied intoxication, car sex, and prolly terrible spanish (sry! mi gente latino in advance!) </3 , :( summary: so the way i'm not that into roman but I just think this little blurb is so befitting of his look and vibe and like i'd totally let him be my shitty sneaky-link who wouldn't care if I got hit by a truck right after I left his whip tht we just hooked up in but hey at-least he notices u while high off his ass.
sneaky!link roman who u pass by like a stranger in the club, no eye contact, no flicker of recognition, absolutely nothing, only for him to text u like five mins later all “didn’t know u pulled up” while ur fixing ur makeup in the bathroom. “did,” u type back nonchalantly, and he drops a pin for you to come meet him down the block. you scoff. what a dick. not even gonna pick u up at a closer place — he’s that discreet. or maybe, just unchivalrous.
the instant u get into your familiar seat, his hand’s already sliding over ur thigh, body already leaning over the center console to give u a messy kiss if you could even call it that. it’s more like a collision, the way his tongue presses eagerly against urs, licking at it all nasty nd’ wet like he’s starved for you, making up for every second apart. his fingers curl a little tighter, gripping the meat of ur thighs like he's afraid you'll dissolve in his hands like a dream if he lets go.
“no hey, how was ur night?” u pull off and say first and foremost, half‑grinning against his mouth. “c’mon, mi reina, you know ur night doesn't really start till you're here with me.” he flirts cornily, and aware of it as he flashes you a shit-eating grin before closing the gap to peck your lips again.
u roll ur eyes, though it’s hard not to smile. for somebody so silent inside the club, him being this unabashed was almost funny. you both knew he was a piece of shit slut with a god complex, but he had this dumb charm that you both knew worked every damn time on every damn one. “keep talkin’ like that and I might have to steal you away from all your little fangirls in the club. fuck u in here all night.” u tease and kiss him again slow, tasting the cigs and pricey champagne on his lips.
you’re still kissing when he laces his fingers through yours, holding it all sweet and absentminded. your stupid heart flutters at the softness of it — him gripping your hand while you kiss like you’re something real, his big hand swallowing yours whole — but then, without breaking the hold, he leans back and gently tugs you with him, guiding you over his lap as he reclines the seat a little. it’s smooth, fluid, natural. your chest presses to his like it was always the plan. you huff a tiny laugh. of course, classic roman, and you keep kissing him back, chasing that brief flash of warmth he always incites within you by accident — the one that makes you fantasize it’s only ever him nd' you — just for him to remind you in the next breath that it could never be. still, you let him move you, settle you easy atop him half because you want to and half because the way he’s still holding your hand makes it feel mind-numbingly sweet. he doesn’t let go even once you’re straddling him, fingers still laced with yours while his other hand settles on your hip 2 keep u upright and steady, all-the-while rubbing slow, absent circles against ur skin like it's second nature.
his piercing eyes hoard and crowd your conscience as he dissects you, all eagle-eyed and unrelenting. you try not to lose the staring contest or he’ll know you’re entirely nervous, but that gets especially hard when he brushes your hair from your face and cups your jaw, tilting your chin up and breathing out low and sure, “why you look so scared of me, huh?”
you blink incredulously. “scared of u?” he shrugs, caressing your cheek lightly. “think u are, maybe.” “and why’s that?” you ask fake oblivious, resting your hand on his shoulder to keep yourself up. “i mean… just look at you, that look in ur eyes,” he says, grinning, tugging gently at your bottom lip with his thumb as he speaks. you shake your head slowly, a wordless prompt for him to keep going as u fight your betraying tongues urges, itching to swipe at it. “you like me. you actually do, but you keep actin’ like you don’t,” he states, voice assured nd' confident like he’s reciting a fact already proven 1000 times over. his gaze lingers in a way that calls for challenge, too close, too intimate for comfort, and ur heart races stupid fast, searching for rescue before this gets too honest. you huff out a small laugh, trying to play it off. “you’re overthinkin’ again. trynna convince urself so bad you started believin’ it.” then you giggle under your breath after as he throws his head back with a low laugh, groaning exhaustedly of trying to get you to just say it, both of you locked in that same old battle of who can care less. ur the only girl he can’t play too easy, even if he still makes something in you spark, annoyingly enough.
“u look super good,” he tells you quietly, the descend in his voice making it sound like a sudden, heavy realization.
his hands begin to wander, his palms sliding up your thighs to hike ur skirt around ur waist. there’s a slow, practiced ease to the way his fingers slip beneath the fabric, sliding ur panties to the side. he’s effortlessly claiming his access, but as his eyes lock onto yours, his expression and the low inflection of his voice give him away—he is utterly, earnestly undone by how good u look.
you laugh under ur breath, trying to keep ur energy light and playful so you don't fall into whatever spell he's trying to place you under—there's a genuine adoration in his eyes right now that isn't just the typical look he gets when he's horny, and it's a little too effective.
“that’s the best you got to makeup for skipping foreplay?”
"who said I was trynna do that?" he smirks, tongue pressing briefly against his cheek like he’s fighting back a laugh. u can already see he's looking for the next stupid thing to say. "maybe i'm just trynna compliment the sexiest girl I saw in the club tonight. jus' happy she's boutta let me beat her pussy up." he gloats, and u smack him playfully, giggling despite his vulgarity.
“ur gross, ro”
"for you," he says, his voice dropping into that smooth, cocky tone he always uses when he knows he's flattering u, playing into the gentleman act just to soften u up for what's comin' next. he spits on his fingers nastily, slicking them up and spreading it all over ur cunt to make sure he slides in smooth.
“I’m being forreal tho,” he affirms, the words slipping out before he can stop them, eyss clouding with lust. “u look so fuckin’ sexy, shitttt,” he breathes out as he presses his cockhead into u, feeding it to u slow, deep, and nice. “I know you are, Ro, I wasn’t doubting you.” you say confidently, a little detached as u turn atop his lap, pulling his overhead mirror down and checking your reflection. he moves u up and down, bouncing ur body atop him and rolling ur hips over his shamefully hard cock every couple strokes in. “ur ruinin’ my lipgloss tho, u piece of shit.” you gripe under your breath, wiping away the smudge at the corner of your mouth. “does it at least taste good?”
he kisses the side of your jaw, voice rough around a grin. “might be my favorite one.” “good to hear, I paid a pretty penny for this. dior.” you deadpan, keeping up the act of nonchalance, and notice through the mirror how his eyes, already sharp, turn piercing—furious with an intention, a goal, like he’s tired of being tested. his fingers start toying with ur clit, rubbing on u with the rough pads of his middle and pointer @ the exact right tempo and rhythm — circle, circle, up, then down. the change is so abrupt it drags a sound from you before you can bite it back and your energy instant alters. in little to no time, ur riding him vigorously, might be shaking and potentially breaking this expensive ass car, and he's fucking up into u, holding u back in a hug-like embrace as u cling onto him desperate for an anchor, completely falling apart as his fingers make quick work of u. the way you clench around him is like ur seriously trynna trap him here like you'd joked.
"missed this, mi cielo," he breathes against your neck, his voice sounding entirely too heavy and honest.
his thumbs, basing your hips, burrow in deep enough that you already know you'll have his fingerprints bruised into your skin by tomorrow. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking hard at the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, his teeth grazing u just enough to make u gasp. it’s aggressive, but the way he's clinging to u—like he’s trying to swallow u whole—makes it feel less like a hookup and way too much like love.
as if reading your mind, he pulls back to kiss you on the lips, slowing the grind of his hips just to feel you out, let the kiss really sink in, and it's overwhelmingly good. the sudden shift from wreckless to intense passion melts whatever control u had left. you wrap your legs tighter around him and start bouncing down on him, riding his dick even harder to make him lose his mind too. his hands grip your waist for dear life as u take over the pace, the heavy shocks of your bodies colliding making the whole car shake on its tires.
and yeah. that’s how u end up not making it out of the car.
author note: babe the way u guys have been BEGGING in my inbox 4 some rommulas and I never thought i'd do it but randomly got so inspired just bc he has that asshole look and like boom here we are now am I rite???