Pairing: obsessive rommulas x obsessive female reader
TRIGGER WARNING: !! This one-shot surrounds the theme of CONSENSUAL non consensual// cnc// although details are not graphic, read at ur own risk!!!! MDNI I want everyone to be safe!! Thank uu
cw: MDNI!!, ex bf roman, cnc, DARK THEME, mentions sleep start??, unknown entry, domish! roman, slight stalking, very toxic relationship, reader is highkey evil
An: If you don’t like pls don’t read!! perverted evil women ily<3
creds to @voidatelier and @myliifeisamess for the boys pov idea u guys are amazing and soo talented, I LOVE UU
Sitting in the dark, my face lighting blue, hands stressfully stuck in my hair because every day, I find myself scrolling through her Instagram, TikTok, Tumblr, anything I can find.
Of course, I see her posting like a little slut, taunting me. Bent over in tiny dresses, Macbook selfies with spilling cleavage, mirror pictures, and she has endless bikini pics. Sitting there giving endless material to anyone who wants to get off to her.
Watching her live her life doing new things, making new friends, exploring new places without me… it makes me physically ill.
So many guys interacting with her. Commenting, liking, following. I bet all of them wish they could touch her like she begs me to.
Y/n blocked me two weeks ago. Nothing new. It’s a thing she likes to do. I piss her off, she blocks me, and forces me to chase her again.
It's a test proving I can’t stay away. And I always pass.
There's nothing I love more than chasing her. Her pretending she can stay away from me. Acting like the time we are apart isn’t torture for her, too.
I’ve never met a girl like her before.
She lives for this shit, and it’s the most intoxicating thing about her. She brings out these intense emotions within me that I've only feltt with her, and it’s not that normal.
We don't have that sweet relationship love
We both know our whole situation is fucked. We don't care. She is the only thing I’ve ever craved; the only thing I really feel like I cannot live without.
Officially, you can say that y/n and I broke up eight months ago. She said we were too intense. That I was suffocating her. That we fed into something unhealthy.
She wasn’t wrong. But she was the one who started this fucked up shit.
One night, she spends the night; she showers and crawls into bed. As soon as she gets in, her scent fills the room, triggering something in me.
Makeup washed off, my shirt her only pajamas. I knew her enough to know she wasn't wearing any panties. Watching how her hard nipples pierced through the t-shirt. Bare, and it was only for me. At the sight of her, I could feel my dick gradually getting harder.
Her presence surrounding me was a drug as I watched her crawl into my bed. Her voice breaks out into laughter.
“Stop staring at me like that.”
I feel my lips turn up into a smile as I lean over to grab her waist, bringing her over to my side of the bed. She yelps as I pull her on top of me, grabbing a handful of her ass. Her eyes meet mine, her lips always formed into that smile. The aura surrounding her makes her stand out in my dark room. I see her lick her lips, and I take it as a sign
I lean in, about to kiss her, but she pulls forward, brushing her lips softly against mine just enough to make my breath hitch before she pulls back and smiles. I find her looking up at me with that same devious look, like she’s burning up to tell me a secret.
“Roman…” she says inquisitively, her finger tracing over my face. The light touch and the tone of her voice make my dick twitch again.
Her voice was softer that night.
Not shy, she was never shy—but careful. Like she was choosing her words.
I give her a sound of approval to keep going.
She continues, “What if you waited?”
“ You know, like….Until I go to sleep.”
Confused at her lack of detail, “I’m not sure I’m understanding you. Use your words. ”
She comes close to my ear. Arms rested on each side of me, trapping me in her presence. She whispers again, “I want you….
to fuck me while I’m asleep.”
Her words shocked me at first. I couldn’t tell if she was joking.
But the way she was flushed as the heat rushed to her face, and how she put her face in my chest to hide from embarrassment, watching me process it. I knew she wasn’t.
“Don’t act all shy now, Roman,” she mutters, still flushed. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
My mind is blown in the moment my face goes blank.
She gets up and grabs a small black box out of her purse, doing a giddy run back to me. As if she didn't say the most insane thing to me.
“Open it,” she says excitedly.
Inside is a chain with a key attached to it.
“What's the key for, baby?”
“My apartment, silly.” She tells me it's for "emergencies."
She adds as she sits on my lap to clasp the necklace, her eyes captivating me again, watching me like she's trying to read my mind. “ I'm giving it to you so you can always swing by and take whatever it is you need from me.”
I needed her to be clear with me on what she meant. I wanted to fully understand what exactly she was asking me to do, and she did, gladly.
Explaining how she was giving me full rein like that. She described it as wanting me to be able to use her whenever and however I wanted.
In the moment, that kind of control made me feel guilty. I felt undeserving of her to grant me so much access, not only to her home but to all of her
When I expressed it to her, she said, “I want you always and more than anything, Roman. ”
The way she said my name. It could convince me to do anything.
Her lips curved slightly. “I've never been so sure of anything in my life.”
That this key around my neck made me hers
I spent most of the night staying up watching her. Remembering the conversation from earlier. Watching her breathe, her body moving up and down slightly, captured by the thought of how something so beautiful could be so outwardly perverse. It amazed me.
Shortly after that night, after I gave in to her requests, Y/n became insatiable.
Like I flipped a switch in her.
Solidifying, I was the only person who could satiate her needs. The only one worthy because I took the time to learn every trigger, every limit. And I reveled in the fact that she belonged to me.
I know to everyone else, it’s a harmless photo with a stranger on a night out, but I know she’s pushing me on purpose; it's fucking working.
All of this because she wants me to use that damn key.
You’re so drunk you can barely feel the pain your heels are causing your feet, especially as the music distracts you.
Your friends got you to go out again, and you didn’t mind it’s always nice to grab a few drinks and dance, maybe flirt, but your main objective was taking enough pics to piss Roman off.
It feels like it's been forever since you blocked him. And even longer since you saw him. Each day drags longer than the last, but you knew it would be worth it.
You knew he was still watching, that’s the most fun. You told him the initial breakup was because he was insane. Which was true. He was.
He never spent a day without you.
When the days were good, they were great; you and Roman had this specific humor that fed off each other and made you closer.
But when they were bad, they were hellish.
If you stayed out too long, he would call you at least fifty times. If your phone died, Roman would request your friends' locations just to make sure he never lost track of you. He lived in fear that you would leave him the first chance you got.
Worst part? You loved it.
The yelling, the screaming, the rough sex after, oh my god, it was all such an unbelievable high. You couldn't get enough.
Roman was the only man you’ve ever met who could please you. And it drove you crazy. He made you feel worshipped and adored, but he knew how to handle you.
He wasn't afraid to be rough with you. Others wanted to treat you delicately, as if you would break if they grabbed your hair every once in a while.
Ex-boyfriends said you were crazy, displeased, disgusting, perverted, whatever they could come up with to excuse themselves for never being a good fuck.
The relationship between you and Roman was "too sweet" for either of you. The nature of your sex was too rough to have this romantic fantasy relationship. You needed more from him.
So you broke up with him.
Increasing all the stakes, and it only made the obsession a hundred times stronger.
You didn’t belong to each other anymore; you were indebted to each other. Trapping yourselves in this vicious cycle that can neither be fixed nor broken.
Especially since you started doing things to make him angry while you were apart, just so he would set you straight. Weeks of built-up anger, jealousy, yearning, it all came out through the sex... it was amazing. Mind-blowing, even.
So this time around, you take it a step further.
Your friends are loud around you, pulling you into conversations you barely hear. The drinks blur everything just enough to make you bold.
You lean into the stranger beside you, forcing a smile.
“Hi,” you say excitedly, looking up at him. He’s handsome, tall, and definitely older.
He responds, “Hey, doll. What are you doing out here?”
See, Roman would never say some dumbshit like that.
You pretend to laugh anyway, flirtatiously putting your hand on his chest. “Doll? I like that.”
You and the stranger keep talking. You know, any second now your friends will come up and take a picture.
Almost right on cue, your friend stumbles into the section and drunkenly screams, “Look, Camera!”
Your friends always find it funny to document the "conquests" you make on a night out. You pose and feel the man’s arm wrapping around your waist. The touch of his hand on you felt disgusting.
You check the photo, and it’s exactly what you need. You look gorgeous, your dress hugging your body, and the arm around your waist is enough for Roman to lose his shit. You have your friend send it, and you post it immediately with the bar location attached.
Knowing Roman, he would come to the bar and drag you out in front of everyone.
Your thighs press together at the thought of him pulling at your arm, yelling. Calling you a slut and then fucking you like one.
Maybe if he’s really mad, he might even use the key.
That was your ultimate goal.
You've missed him so bad.
After a while, you and your friends get even more drunk. The older guy buys you and your friend three rounds of drinks.
They start calling an Uber, and you feel a flare of anger.
You check ur phone no missed calls from unknown numbers, no odd dm’s there was nothing. Just silence.
Thoughts run through your head as you start to lose hope. It was unlike him not to give you what you wanted.
You knew he was tapped into your little games.
You’ve concluded that you’re fucked up, but Roman showed you there was at least one person who could love you. No judgment.
As you get in the Uber, the car feels like it's spinning. Your friends' laughter becomes just background noise to your thoughts of roman.
You look out the window, still holding onto a tiny bit of hope.
He’s only used it one other time when he heard you were drunkenly flirting with his best friend, and it was the best night of your life.
Waking up to the feeling of his hands pulling at your nipples, his dick rubbing against you.
The pulling lightly at your hair, The heavy breathing on your ear, all while you're still half-asleep...
The Uber drops you off at home. You walk into the elevator, leaning against the cold wall while you wait for it to stop at your floor. When it finally dings, you stumble toward your apartment, struggling to get the key into the lock for a solid minute before it finally clicks. You kick your heels off the second you're inside, the relief of being out of them making you sigh.
You start walking toward your bedroom when you hear a faint creak. You freeze and turn around, squinting into the dark hallway, but you don't see anyone.
There’s a shift in the air. Subtle. Familiar. Your heart stutters once, hard enough to make you pause.
You don’t turn on the lights.
Hoping in the shower feels like the only option to wash the smell of the club and that stranger's cologne off your skin.
The hot water makes your body feel much better, clearing your head just enough to make you feel clear minded. You throw on a t-shirt, nothing else underneath.
As you lie down in your bed, the silence of the apartment feels heavy. Then, you hear it again. Another creak on the floorboards, but this one is closer than before. Right outside your bedroom door. You smile. Sliding into bed, pulling the covers up, and forcing your breathing to slow.
Thoughts thinking what if he's not here? Still carrying that fear that he’s grown tired of you and all of your bullshit.
The view feels familiar. Me standing here, watching her sleep, listening to the little coos she makes. She’s in my t-shirt again, and the moonlight is pushing through the window just right, perfectly highlighting her face.
I watched her walk in here, testing her as I watched how every sound I made stopped her in her tracks.
It wasn't from fear; it was from hope. She was hoping I would be here.
Even when we’re away from each other, we have this sick control over one another. She dragged me here with signs she knew I’d follow, laying the trail until she got me exactly where she wanted me. Like she always does.
I even still wear the key around my neck. Fans think it’s just an accessory, but she knows what it stands for. It stands for this moment, me in her room while she pretends she didn’t call me here.
Realizing again I’m addicted to her.
I watch her now in this false, vulnerable state, the exact opposite of who she really is. As I let my body put a dip in the bed, I scale her legs gently with the cool metal of the key, watching her move slightly in her sleep.
Thinking I’m going to fuck her just like she begged for. Just like she's been waiting for all night.
An: Not smut heavy so I can keep my head ngl.....
perm taglist i love u all deeply <3
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