#roman sionis reader insert

[welcometohellweofferimagines]

BRUCE WAYNE x READER ❥ there is a thin line between love and hate ❥ ⌜ ❁ ⌟  ✧  ⌞ ❀ ⌝ based off of the original (cringe-fest) imagine: x

children, i’ve brought you a garbage fic and a billionaire to eat. dig in. x ⌜ ❁ ⌟  ✧  ⌞ ❀ ⌝ ⌌ ✍︎ re-written version of “ and i would like nothing more than that ”. unedited.  18 • 09 • 22 ⌍

You don’t drink. Well, much. No, that really was the truth.  

All right, you might indulge in one or two alcoholic beverages here and there — but it really wasn’t a problem; and you rarely got drunk. Especially not on the job.  

“Okay,” said the bespectacled man — perhaps the politest of your conversational partners this evening — before he tapped his empty champagne flute, stood, excused himself, and left.  

Ah. Perhaps insisting to these blue-bloods that you were a professional, and a well-behaved one at that, was not the best topic of choice. You’d lost four, no, five... no, maybe nine people since you picked up your first flute and begrudgingly agreed to mingle.  

“It’s networking, baby,” Luca had finger-gunned in your direction. “Just as important as the job.” 

What job, you mused to yourself, grumbling over the glass rim. “I don’t give a fuck about this back-scratching shit.” 

The last of the bubbly disappeared down your throat, the thirst for more immediate as soon as you lowered the champagne flute from your lips.  

Jewels glittered in all directions, the comically elegant laughter around you like headache-inducing sirens. Your own attire felt cheap in comparison, although you’d dragged your feet into an expensive shop to purchase it just a few weeks ago. 

You trudged past them all tonight much like you’d entered the store then, a little more drunk and loose now to care that you looked like a sullen child instead of [Y/N] from Accounting.  

It didn’t matter anyway. You’d handed in your resignation a week ago. Soon, you’d be gone with the wind, baby. Networking be damned. 

You wandered. Wandered, stopped to admire the chocolate éclairs on a server’s silver platter, and wandered some more. Yet, no champagne flutes were in your sight, save for those held already by attendees. You scratched your head — increasingly fuzzy, with the umpteenth drink coursing through you; there must be a logical explanation, you decided; but you sure as hell weren’t going to be able to discover what it was tonight, so you might as well just go sit down. 

Unbeknownst to you, you were among the few guests to whom a certain British butler had long since forbidden the servers from offering more drinks. If he hadn’t been Mr Wayne’s own personal staff, one or two might not have cared to listen. But because he himself had an air of authority, none dared approach you after dispersing; except for those serving food.  

A quiet corner near the French windows pulled you from the chattering crowd, a sole man occupying it. He smiled at you when you plopped down across from him, but, until he spoke, he was a little too hazy to recognise. 

“[Miss/Mr/Mx] [Y/L/N]. What a pleasure.” 

“Mr Fox,” you greeted, perking up for the first time that night. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Couldn’t miss one of Mr Wayne’s parties, now, could I?” There was a trace of humour in his voice. Enough for you to throw all caution to the wind and snort in a drunken response.  

“So much for charity event, huh.” You rested your cheek on your palm as you glanced over your shoulder at the others. “You know, I tried to donate five hundred dollars. The lady there laughed at me,” you gestured with your chin to the tall foundation hostess in her custom red Versace gown, greying golden hair swept up in a trés chic updo. “Thought it was a joke.” 

“Nobody likes a cheapskate, [Mx/Miss/Mr] [Y/L/N].” Lucius Fox shook his head. “That’s why I donated five hundred and one dollars.” 

You were caught in a mid-snort when another figure approached, claiming the chair beside Mr Fox with a languid air. The newcomer unbuttoned his suit jacket as he sat, turning to his adjacent partner with a smile.  

“Lucius. A word?” 

“Of course, Mr Wayne.” He then nodded in your direction, “We have another guest, however. Polite manners require you greet [them/her/him] as well.” 

It wasn’t meant as a chastisement; rather, Lucius Fox sounded very much like he was teasing the man. The alcohol in you wasn’t helping much at the moment, but you just about managed to catch Mr Wayne smiling, an indulging expression that reeked of an arrogant nonchalance. Your nose scrunched up.  

God, you disliked this man.  

In the revolution, you hoped to eat him first.  

“Good evening. [Mx/Miss/Mr] ...?” 

His gaze found yours. Or, at least, you thought it did.  

You didn’t answer. The silence that stretched between the three of you grew uncomfortable, until, when Fox began to shift in his seat, it turned unbearable. 

Now was your cue to exit.  

Mr Fox began, “This is [Y/N]—”  

Without a word, you stood from your seat, and walked — perhaps, more accurately, stumbled — to the French windows and flung them open, out into the cool night air.  

Gotham sprawled out before you: glittering lights. Much like the ornaments the elite donned inside, the spectacle overwhelmed, much too fine for an especially topsy-turvy mind such as the one you were struggling with now. But, oh, was this a pretty sight. Prettier than the one indoors.  

Another outcast stood further down the balcony, the warm orange light of a cigarette cutting through the dark; he exhaled, leaning his head back, missing you as you stormed up to him with balled fists and a furious frown.  

“Luca!” You punched his arm. Lightly. He yelped. (Maybe it wasn’t that light actually.)  

“[Y/N], what the fu—” 

“What happened to networking, baby?” you demanded, seizing his cigarette and flinging it beneath your shoe. He cried out as you crushed it into ash. 

“Huh?” 

“The fuck are you doing out here? I haven’t seen you inside since Lady Gaga sang.” 

“She was amazing, wasn’t sh—” Your palm struck his shoulder. “Ow!” 

“You said it was important. I’ve been rubbing elbows this whole time and I’ve hated every single second of it. Why aren’t you doing the same thing?” 

“I said it was important, I didn’t say I liked it.” Luca huffed out a breath, inhaling as if it were cigarette smoke. He leaned his head back again and blinked up at the starless sky.  

You glared at him. “How many people — and not from work — have you talked to tonight?” 

Luca seemed to consider a moment. Yet, when he answered, it was a pathetic one. “I talked to Alfred.” 

“Who’s Alfred?” 

“Pennyworth.” 

“From?” 

Luca paused. He hesitated, fidgeting. “From Wayne... Manor.” 

“Wayne Manor? What is he? Wayne’s lover or something?” 

Luca relaxed into a grin. “Butler.” 

“So he makes the bed after he wakes up from it. Okay. I get it. Good job, Luca.” His other hand, the elbow resting against the parapet, held a crystal whiskey glass, amber liquid inside. You swiped it — much to his displeasure.  

“I spoke to a lot of people,” you brushed his protests aside, “I deserve this,” slowly sipping the burning liquid until none was left.  

“[Y/N], I’m broke,” Luca pouted after a few peaceful minutes. “I bought this stupid watch for, like, almost a grand. Harrington saw it and did his backhanded compliment thing. He was all like, oh, I love it! So vintage. That’s their old model released three years ago. Very affordable.” 

“Hate that guy” 

“Me too.” 

“Is that why you’re out here? Not in there?” 

Luca nodded. 

“Okay. Mood.” You regarded the crystal in your hand with interest. “That’s why I’m outta here.” 

“Home?”  

That caught his attention. Now it was undivided — you didn’t actually want, nor need, him to focus on you so much. 

“No. I handed in my notice—” 

He spoke as you spoke, “You can’t leave, you bitch. Who else is going to be broke with me? Even Samara in accounting has a millionaire stepdad, and Hwa has—” 

“—and I’m gonna leave this conversation now, bye.” 

“[Y/N]!” he shouted after you.  

“It’s mingle time, baby,” you called back to him.  

It was not mingle time. You lied. You were going home.  

But the night hadn’t finished its fun with you yet. You hadn’t stepped within a metre of the floor when Lucius Fox waved you over to his corner again. He had with him a whole party of individuals now: a Wayne Enterprises board member, one tech CEO from someplace-or-other, two board members from another company (one of whom you were about 80 to 85% sure was Roman Sionis), and a corporate lawyer you’d seen around the tower; and last, but certainly not least, Bruce Wayne himself.  

You could ignore him, pretend you didn’t see.  

Ah, yes, because making direct eye contact and then walking off is a totally valid explanation behind you somehow not noticing his invitation to his table. I am drunk though, you realised. That was a good excuse.  

But this was Mr Fox... Soon enough you wouldn’t be around him anymore — not that you could tag alongside him much already when you were stuck in the accounting department — and what moments you could steal of witnessing his dry wit would be lost forever. That, and he was much too nice to purposely slight.  

Surprisingly, there was a seat free beside Bruce Wayne. As you sat, though, you could tell that the woman to your right — the gorgeous lawyer, a Harvard graduate, you’d heard — had been eyeing that chair up for a while, too cautious to take it for herself, hoping instead that he might scoot over, even if only to get a better look at her slender legs.  

Alas, you were now in between them.  

“[Y/N] is leaving our company soon,” said Mr Fox, raising his glass of whiskey — where and when did the whiskey come out?! — to you in a toast. “If either of you gentlemen have an opening for a new chartered accountant, I’d highly recommend you hire [them/her/him].” 

He took a sip from the glass as he added, “So [they/she/he]’ll come back to us soon.” 

The other company’s board members chuckled, their interest in you sparked for a moment, before flickering; fleeting, much as you’d expected it to be. You busied yourself with the champagne that a server came to set before you — their hand trembling in uncertainty (considering retracting the flute as soon as their gaze locked with Mr Pennyworth’s) — content at last to have more numbing juice. 

“Did Bruce not pay you enough?”  

It took longer than you would have liked for you to realise that the one who spoke — Mr Hotshot-Twenty-Something-Year-Old-Tech-Savvy-Small-Loan-of-a-Million-Dollars-Guy — was in fact speaking to you. 

A brush against your knee startled you. You almost jumped in your seat, managing to just flinch a little, glancing down in slow realisation that your adjacent acquaintance — unfortunately not the pretty lawyer lady — had accidentally brushed his knee against yours. He’d turned just a bit to look at you. His face was a tad blurry. You drank more champagne.  

Hoping it to be a rhetorical question, you just answered with what you hoped was a humorous smile. But then Wayne himself joined in; his arm came to rest atop the back of your seat.  

“Didn’t I?” he asked.  

Could you up and leave for a second time in the face of his questioning? I mean, yes, of course you could, there was no law stopping you from doing that. The lawyer beside you could surely confirm that. But, would it be embarrassing? Witnessed by too many eyes?  

Yes. Very much so. 

“My salary was sufficient, thank you.” Damn, you hoped you didn’t slur. Or maybe you shouldn’t care... right?  

“Then why leave?” 

Fucking damn it. Just fuck off, you wanted to snap. His face swam beside you, the smile that graced his lips a fleeting sight as you narrowed your eyes at him for a quick moment. You must have looked far too contemptuous for an employee. Good thing you’d quit already.  

Thankfully, it was the tech CEO who answered for you (the one time you’d excuse it). “Sufficient, Bruce. Sufficient. Not great.” 

“Sufficient is great in this economy,” offered the lawyer, twirling her finger around the toothpick in her martini, staring at the green olives within. Darn it, how come she got a martini, and you didn’t?  

“Yeah?” countered the CEO.  

The woman frowned. “Not everyone’s as comfortable as you are, Nathaniel.” 

The subject of her frown also frowned. “Don’t call me Nathaniel.” He took a swig of his own drink. “Reminds me of my dad.” 

Why not just pay what we’re owed, you might have suggested. If someone had also given you a martini, you would have said it.  

Sufficient is just not good enough. To put up with their lot.

Mr Wayne’s knuckles brushed your fingers when he lowered his whiskey glass to the table; too close to where you held your flute to not be suspect. You looked at him through a narrowed gaze again. His brown hair fell over his forehead, catching the light. It looked like melted chocolate, dark; but there were hints of a golden hue in each wave. 

You then couldn’t help but notice that he’d undone his tie. A few buttons on his pristine white shirt were open. Holy shit if you’d ever dared show up to an event like this, unkempt as he’d allowed himself to become, you’d be blacklisted from employment interviews for life — unless you changed your name as well as your face.  

Damn this man.  

“You should’ve asked for a raise, [Y/N].” 

[Y/N]. Sure, he was your boss, he could address you by your name rather than be formal, but also, what the fuck. In the few years you’d worked at Wayne Enterprises, you’d seldom met the man behind the name (although... there was that one time you’d spent almost a whole afternoon following him around the tower, close to begging him to just sign off on his personal expenditures, long ago giving up on explaining to the company owner that wining and dining the hot new Swedish shareholder couldn’t be accepted as a valid use of his company card). You sure as hell weren’t suddenly friends now. Besides, the way he just said it... that’s not how bosses usually utter any employee’s name.  

The lawyer beside you noticed, too. Or at least you think she did. Her posture became rigid, her gaze shifting to you. Her plump lips formed a smile, but it seemed self-deprecating, as well as accepting.  

You took a moment to admire her smooth dark skin as she lamented over not moving seats as soon as yours had first become available. 

She was who Bruce Wayne should be rubbing his knuckles against. Not you.  

You’d rather punch him than brush your own knuckles against his skin.  

Fine, yes, it was true that he was very pretty. Women weren’t as vapid as these assholes liked to accuse them of being; it wasn’t just money, and you know what, it wasn’t even only his looks that trapped women or other partners. You’d seen him shed some of his ignorance before. Sometimes, he really could be charming.  

If you liked that sort of thing.  

Which you didn’t. 

Ugh.  

“I think,” you drew a breath, “I’m done with the corporate world for a while.” 

“What will you do once you’re free?” Again, it was Mr Wayne who asked.  

Wasn’t he completely uninterested in even saying hello to you a few moments ago? When was he going to go back to not caring — because you really needed an opening to say your goodbyes and book it home. 

“Travel. Take a vacation, I guess.” Why did your accent change? Fuck, you needed to leave.  

“Good choice,” Mr Fox nodded in approval.  

You raised your almost empty champagne flute to him. 

“In this economy?” joked the woman beside you.  

She was rich, you could tell. But self-made. Her dress was a gorgeous black silk. The gold around her neck and wrists weren’t there to brag. She had on an old, sentimental wristwatch. There was something about her, that you could tell she knew well the struggles of gaining success. If anyone else understood the value of money at this table, it was her.  

You liked her. You should get up and give her your seat. Even if it meant that someone as undeserving as Bruce Wayne could shoot his shot with her. After all, she wanted him to, didn’t she. 

Or maybe you should shoot your shot. 

She laughed, throwing her head back at something Bruce Wayne said from your other side, showing for a moment the graceful curve of her neck. Her laughter sounded like divine song. 

Nope, never mind. She was way out of your league. 

“Excuse me,” you murmured, rising — frustratingly with a bit of difficulty — to your feet. Much to your distaste, your chair legs scraped across the floor, loud. Using the table’s edge for balance, you guided yourself around your chair, pausing to push it in with a keen concentration that your closest table partners didn’t fail to notice. 

“I’ll come with you, [Y/N],” Lucius Fox offered, standing as well. 

But before he could move, Mr Wayne also rose, the fog of his own drunken mirth disappearing for a second, noticed solely by Lucius. “You promised Mr Sionis a sneak peek of our new tech, didn’t you? It’s okay. I’ll help [Y/N].”  

The two men shared a nod, even as Bruce Wayne’s gaze followed your abruptly retreating form. Fists balled at your sides, arms pendulating, you focused all your will on remaining upright and fast, all the while fleeing to the exit unaware of how cartoonish you looked.  

Almost there, you triumphed, catching sight of the coat check attendant. Almost. There. 

The attendant noticed your approach and offered a smile. He stepped forward to serve you, just as another woman called for him, the apologetic expression on his face too genuine to hold a grudge against him as he rushed off to get her fur coat. Foiled again! How many times did you have to be reminded of how unimportant you were compared to these blue-bloods? 

You tapped your foot once you reached the door to the cloakroom. Soon, you were leaning against the wall in a vain effort to not fall. It wasn’t long before someone joined you, their amiable smile gaining from you only a disappointed grimace. If he noticed, Bruce Wayne didn’t comment on it. He simply came to stand beside you, hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants, his gaze sweeping over the party crowd with you. 

“Leaving so soon, [Mx/Miss/Mr] [Y/L/N].” His tone didn’t make it sound like a question, not even a rhetorical one; this seemed more like a remark.  

“It’s almost eleven,” you mumbled, checking your wristwatch to confirm. “Not so soon, actually.” 

“This event’s unlikely to end till midnight,” he told you, flashing you a small smile before returning to people-watching. 

“Uh, ha, too late for me.”  

Away from people, from being among conversations, you could no longer deny the fact that you were, like the embarrassment you could be, slurring. But beside him, you didn’t feel too bad about it; you’d heard about the times he’d shown up to board meetings hungover. More often than not, he even fell asleep during them. Let him hear your slurred speech, his opinion didn’t matter to you anyway. 

“Sounds like we’re losing a good employee,” mused Mr Wayne, but he spoke with a certain detachment, although he smiled. He didn’t care about the company as much as Mr Fox did, you were aware; he’d left most matters in the latter’s capable hands, after all. 

“Don’t worry,” you found yourself saying, “I’ll make sure my replacement ch—chases you around to get your—” you imitated signing, “—on expenses even better than I do.” 

His look of surprise met only the sight of your turned back, your additional muttered, “Not that you ever made it easy, though,” hopefully going unheard as you waved the coat attendant over again. 

(You'd only really done it once.) 

(Not that it mattered.) 

(Once was hard enough.) 

To your astonishment, his laugh rang out behind you. You faced the direction of the deep sound, seeing that he was now eyeing you with a certain curiosity — all traces of alcoholic influence oddly gone. A sudden uneasiness pooled in the pit of your stomach.  

Why, you couldn’t tell. Maybe it was because you’d never seen him this way. Bruce Wayne was always the worst spoiled, unconcerned snob around Gotham; yeah, he was an Ivy League graduate, but you sure as hell doubted that he got in on merit (all right, that was harsh... he was smart, you had to admit that — but he was just as careless); and what immense power he had, he used for his stupid exploits.  

This man before you didn’t seem like that Bruce Wayne. 

The attendant came to take your card and disappeared once more into the cloakroom. You took his arrival and departure as an excuse to turn your back on Wayne again, for some strange reason trembling. You were drunk. You were seeing things, thinking things, making things up. 

Yes, that made sense. 

“Do you need a ride home, [Y/N]?” he asked, breaking the silence. 

“Hm? Oh, no, thank you,” you answered, without evening meeting his gaze. “I’ll take the train. Besides...” No, don’t say it. You didn’t need to, just leave it at that, what use was it to make another jab at this dude? “Didn’t you drink?” 

He chuckled, stepping around to look into your face with a smile, “I’d ask my butler to drive.”  

His smile waned, just a bit (such a miniscule shift, you almost thought you imagined it; because, otherwise, that might have been the most genuine reaction you’d ever seen him have). “It’s not that safe on the trains this late at night.” 

“It’s okay,” you fought to keep a frown off your face, “I use them all the time.”  

Who was he to speak? His family might have built them, but you doubted he’d ever taken a train in his life. 

Okay, he had a point. But you weren’t going to listen to one of the wealthiest people in the world tell you your public transport was inadequate. 

And yes, of course you knew he himself had suffered an enormous loss in his youth... but perhaps that’s what frustrated you the most: that, despite what horror he faced on the night of his parents’ murder, he still turned out to be this selfish brat. 

Your coat appeared, along with the attendant. He came up to you whilst someone else vied for his attention; you hurriedly handed him a tip, then left the ballroom, heading towards the elevator. A pair of feet followed behind. 

“Wait, [Y/N].”  

You didn’t wait. You all but smacked the elevator button with the heel of your palm.  

Darn skyscrapers... Waiting for the elevator to rise to the top floor proved the worst of your experiences that night, because now Bruce Wayne was standing with you, alone, out in the glossy lobby where you just wanted to be left in peace. 

“At least call a cab,” he said. Was his voice soft right now? Were you losing your hearing? How drunk were you, really? 

All you responded with was a rub of your thumb over the tips of your middle and index fingers.  

The lift continued to ascend. 

“Let me pay fo—” 

Before he could finish his offer, you shot him a dismissive look, quelling the little bud of guilt that grew in your chest from your own rude reaction. 

“Goodnight, Mr Wayne,” you gave a nod, and returned to staring at the floor numbers above the sleek black doors.  

He paused, for just a moment. Then, he said, “Well, [Y/N], thank you for your donation.” He turned to leave. 

You shot him a smile this time, unable to keep the sarcasm off your face. “I could only offer some spare change though. Sorry.” 

Silence. Then— 

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you somehow.” 

The doors finally dinged open. 

That stupid smile was back: the saccharine one, aloof and false. He never went without this particular expression, and he was damn good at it. Somehow, it could please its recipients, even though he didn’t even bother to properly conceal the apathy in his tone of voice.  

But you couldn’t stand it. You had nothing to gain from the Great Bruce Wayne; except perhaps a headache. As pleasant as his smile was to look at, all it achieved in its use with you was furthering your irritation. If it were actually possible to see red when enraged, you’d have been overcome by it now.  

“You know what, Mr Wayne, no.” You whirled towards him (staggering just a bit). “You’re not sorry.” 

Still glaring at him, you marched inside the elevator. He took that as a cue to follow. Inside the closed — albeit ample — space, it felt almost as if your anger was radiating off of you, filling up between those four walls, pressing, and vengeful.  

If it became tangible, Bruce Wayne would be crushed dead. You too, probably; but that was a sacrifice, in this moment, you’d be willing to make. 

A short laugh escaped your lips, “You’re just not.” 

Serious again, you continued your attack (as well as you could). “Just like— Just like you don’t actually care about this city. No, actually, I don’t think you e—even care about other people. What is this event... Honestly? It just feels like a, uh... a sham. A chance to stroke your egos, get drunk, and fuck around. You want to raise money for the public library? Okay. Where are the kids? Where’re the... library... people? Um. Fuck. Uh, right, librarians. Where are they? Lady Gaga is cool and all, but how is her singing Shallow really a part of this cause? Did you just pick a random charity out of a hat? Because it sure as hell seems like you did.” 

You took a moment to gather your breath. 

“Do you even know how to read, Mr Wayne? Well then read this — you are a pompous... pompous jerk. Who cares for little else but his money. You’re a fake.” 

Everything was tilting. Was the world being pushed to its side? You stumbled back against the golden rail.  

Some time passed. 

When you next spoke, you almost didn’t recognise your own voice; this was someone else, surely; they sounded tired; they sounded almost sad. You weren’t sad. You were angry. 

“You’re the fakest person I’ve ever met.” 

The elevator announced your arrival on the ground floor. The doors slid open, but you didn’t move. He didn’t either.  

Gone was his façade. Not even intoxication altered his features. He didn’t even seem offended.  

Now, he was nothing... And fuck, this was so, so, so much worse. Whoever was standing in the other corner of the elevator was just an empty man... 

An empty man with hollow eyes. 

You couldn’t hold his gaze much longer. Glancing down at your shoes, you mumbled, “You know. You know what it’s like. This place is a shit show. Money couldn’t even save your...” No, you’d better not.  

Inhaling deeply, you diverted. “Imagine what it’s like for everyone else. Hon—hon—” you gave a short chuckle at your stuttering, “—honestly, even I’m luckier than most. So... just... imagine.” 

Exiting the elevator, you glanced toward him one last time, parting with an “Imagine dying on these streets with nothing. Then you can understand why watching you throw —you gesticulated— “your money around like it’s nothing makes people hate you.”  

Cold wind greeted you past the revolving doors, the autumn night worsening by the minute. Rain was promised, and there was no denying it would fall soon enough. You should’ve brought an umbrella, but you’d honestly expected to run off much earlier.  

The way home was far; you lived in a decent enough city block, but that’s what it was: decent — far, far, far from these opulent parts of Gotham. Trekking to the train station was going to be a bitch. But the temptation of calling a taxi from here to there... Financial ruin in disguise.  

You drew your coat tighter around you and began walking. It is what it is. 

An arm abruptly blocked your path. Following its length up to the face of its owner, a string of curse words erupted on your tongue, luckily silenced, too caught up in the realisation that he was flagging down a valet with his other hand before you could let him have it. 

“What are you doing?” you demanded. 

“Taking you home.” His gaze remained on the valet, a small, young woman who rushed off to retrieve his vehicle.  

“Huh? I said I—” 

“On most nights do you walk and take the train home drunk?” 

There was a finality to his tone, taking from you any opportunity to argue. You could try; but you had a feeling that he would just shrug it all off. It would be useless, wouldn’t it. 

But you were drunk. He frustrated you.  

So, eventually, you tried. 

“You can’t drive.” You watched with him as the valet pulled up to the curb, the lights from the building reflecting off the sleek golden body of his Bentley. “If I have to choose between getting stabbed going home or ending up in a car crash with you, I’d rather get stabbed to be honest.” 

You were looking downward as you finished, miming a stabbing. When you glanced up, his smile came into focus; you were standing close, close enough that the sarcastic pull of his lips was completely unmistakeable. You should have been angry. Yet instead, you fell silent. 

He was too real here, now. 

Much like when he’d looked at you with his hollow eyes, you found yourself unable to meet his gaze. You focused on the pavement where you scuffed a limp leaf onto its surface.  

“I’m not drunk,” he said, taking the keys from the valet. “I faked it. I’m good at that, remember?” 

Several minutes more (no one willing to come tell off the man parked right outside the hotel entrance when it was clearly a disgruntled Bruce Wayne), and you were finally seated on the passenger side. When he got inside, droplets of light rain that had begun to fall were scattered in his hair, his piqued expression disappearing behind his sleeve as he tried to rub some of the rain off. He glanced in your direction for a second while he pointed at the dashboard system. 

“Type in your address, please.” 

The car rumbled to life and he pulled his seatbelt into place. As you sat digesting his words, he reached over to buckle you up, throwing you a peeved squint of his eyes when you barked out a protest. 

This was the final form of rich spoiled brat Bruce Wayne — the last boss, worst of the worst — you decided.  

Though, his manner felt more grounded than you’d expected from him during a disagreement. You’d expected more snobbish behaviour in the face of your blatant disrespect. More of “how dare [they/she/he] not like me — I’m Bruce fucking Wayne!” than this — whatever this was. 

After a stretch of awkward silence, he gestured towards the screen again, “Well?” 

Biting back some ugly grumbles, you did as he asked. Wondering for a moment whether your fingers were clean enough to be touching this expensive tech, hoping Wayne wouldn’t come to find the stickiness of dried champagne on his precious Bentley tomorrow morning. 

With a nod in thanks, he put the gear into drive, and sped off down the street. He immediately swerved to take over a car ahead. Your stomach lurched, and for a moment you were terrified you might throw up all the alcohol still in your tummy. Also, what did you even eat tonight? Mozzarella sticks?  

Oh yeah, that’s right, Luca, Hwa and you got waffle fries after work. 

Bad choice... 

You muffled past your palm, “Could you—” 

The car immediately slowed to a decent speed. You might have thought he looked a little concerned when he faced you, but that was impossible considering the man in question. 

“Do you need me to pull over?” he asked. 

“No,” you assured, shaking your head. Your hand slipped down your face, falling to your lap. “I’ll be fine I think.” 

A gentle hum filled what would have otherwise been silence, the engine so soothing that you felt you’d soon be asleep. The rain outside had grown heavier. Windscreen wipers swept across the windshield, the noise a welcome addition to your increasing repose.  

You fell asleep in just a few minutes, waking long after you’d set off from the hotel. You started in your seat, a sharp gasp alerting Wayne of your awakening, his eyes narrowing to where you had managed to slump down in your sleep. Quickly, you straightened, stretching out the double-chin you’d slept with, crying on the inside with every painful stretch of your neck muscles. 

“We’re almost there,” he said from beside you, tapping something on the tech screen. It wasn’t until a symphony stopped that you realised he’d been listening to music. Quiet followed. 

“Oh.” You rubbed at your right eye. “You can keep playing it.” 

“Tchaikovsky?” He smiled a little. 

You looked at him. “You were listening to Tchaikovsky?” 

He shook his head suddenly, “Who’s that?” 

Confused, you said no more. Your head lolled back against the leather seat, staring through the window where buildings and lights and people blurred by. Your head was still spinning a little bit. You almost enjoyed the way everything blended into obscure colours. If it hadn’t been for the somersaults in your stomach, you’d enjoy it more. 

“How far away are we now?” your question came out just above a whisper. 

“Fourteen minutes.” After a long pause, he mused, “I didn’t actually realise how far you live, [Y/N].” 

You curled in on yourself. 

“Did you take the train all the way to the event?” 

It took you a while to reply. He thought it was because of his question, unaware that he had made you uncomfortable elsehow. Several seconds later, you mumbled, “No, I stayed around after work. I walked over with some colleagues.” 

He thought, then began, “You—” 

But your voice held his tongue.  

“Why do you... keep saying my name?” Abrupt; though it came out in a bashful murmur. 

“Why?” He began to chuckle. “Why, because it’s your name.” 

“No,” you shook your head. The space pressed in. There was so little of it, really. So little between you and him.  

“No, like... It’s so... Like...” Intimate. “Weird. See, I haven’t said your name. Not once.” 

“You’ve called me Mr Wayne a couple times tonight.” 

“Yeah. It— That’s, you know, formal. Like, like, if you, like, call me [Mx/Miss/Mr] [Y/L/N], that’s not weird. Even in my head you’re just, like, always Bruce Wayne.” 

“Say Bruce.” 

You froze. 

“Huh?” 

“Say Bruce right now.” 

Quiet, you tried to curl in on yourself further; but could manage no more than you already had. You trained your gaze out the window at the passing streetlights.  

You murmured out a “No...”  

He grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but glance fleetingly in his direction to gauge his reaction, shocked to find his countenance genuinely amused for the first time tonight. You looked back outside, folding your arms as your body slumped down the leather. 

“Do you not want me to say your name then, [Y/N]?” 

You shrugged. 

“Okay.” 

A muted beep, and Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake filled the space. Moments passed. But after a while, you couldn’t help it: you turned to him with an incredulous expression. He regarded your wide eyes, tutting in response. 

“Is this not Taylor Swift?” 

You simply stared. 

“Hang on, I think you’ll like this.” 

He pressed a few things on his screen, Swan Lake disappearing. A modern beat played from the speakers.  

“Wait, what?” 

“You like Big Shaq, right? Two plus two is four, minus one is—” He swatted lightly at your shoulder with the back of his hand, “You’re good with numbers.” 

Gunshots struck the air. Pah, pah, pah, pah, pah. 

As if this night couldn’t get any weirder, Bruce Wayne randomly pointed out of his side of the window, announcing gravely, “There’s a drug dealer who sells crack down that alley. You’re only a few minutes' drive away. Don’t walk past there. I’ve heard he’s a horribly good salesman.” 

You willed yourself to go back to sleep. 

Morning came without mercy. 

You awoke earlier than you’d have liked to a pounding headache. Too weak to rise, you peeked over the covers — gathered tightly around your head — at the blinds, confirming from the golden sunlight sneaking through that it was day. You stubbornly fell back asleep soon after. 

At around noon, your roommate was no longer indulgent of your behaviour, barrelling into your room to haul you out of bed. They shoved a glass of water in your hand, pointed at a box on the nightstand, and said something about coffee and lunch and brushing your teeth whilst storming out into the corridor as passionately as they’d come in. 

You grumbled about not getting even a second of peace as you did what you were told. But you supposed this was revenge for the last time they’d come home drunk. You’d done almost the exact same thing. 

The box yielded to be Tylenol. As you popped two tablets down, you grew aware of your surroundings. The floor was not littered with the clothes you’d worn out — a usual sight on the morning of a hangover. You glanced down to find last night’s attire still on.  

Fabric creased, it looked cheap now, not just what you’d felt it to be among the evening’s finery.  

The prospect of laundering made you groan — it would take intensive ironing to get those creases out. A task you had no intention of completing this weekend.  

Trudging out to the bathroom, you brushed your teeth then took a shower. Your roommate was sat in front of the TV reading this week’s horoscope when you tiptoed to the kitchenette area to steal your coffee and lunch. Their gaze followed you amusedly as you snuck back towards your bedroom. 

“Hey!” they called, stopping you in your tracks. “Did you read the note on your nightstand?” 

“Uh...” you glanced over your shoulder at their bright face. “No? What note?” 

A flourish; with a wave of their hand in the direction of your room, you were dismissed. “Just go read it, genius.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered under your breath (endearingly (maybe)), but obeyed.  

Spiteful as you could sometimes be in the face of your roommate's demands, your curiosity was simply too much to ignore when you spotted the folded piece of paper. It stood propped against your lamp, a little flower (smiling, you should add) sketched on its visible side. You plucked it from the nightstand and jumped back into bed. 

Cursive script flowed down the paper, equal parts elegant and equal parts chaotic — too grand for you to decipher without worsening your headache.  

And much too grand to be your roommate’s.  

You squinted, reading slowly. Taking little in; until memories of last night returned to you. 

Of course you hadn’t forgotten that the event was a disaster, nor could you forget that Bruce goddamn Wayne had driven you home after it. But the part at the end felt blurred; you recalled bits and pieces of waking up, falling back asleep, feeling as if you were floating, telling someone to fuck off, an intercom buzzing, elevator music, hysterical laughter waking you up for a moment and... and— Wait!  

God fucking damn, did Bruce Wayne carry you up the elevator and to your apartment, or was that just a very vivid, very bizzare, utterly ridiculous dream? 

It had to be. In what world could that be real. Any of it? The note in your hand was a figment of your imagination, too. And Mr Wayne. The logical explanation was that none of it happened and you’d dreamed a drunken nightmare. No, you still were — dreaming. You had to be passed out on the balcony with Luca or something, alcohol poisoning finally taking its toll. 

That had to be it. 

It just had to be. 

[Y/N] — 

You’re lucky you’ve already quit, otherwise I might have had to fire you after last night. 

There’s some water and medicine on your nightstand for the headache I’m sure you now have. If you’re managing to read this despite it, I truly am sorry to see you go. You must be a great accountant. Lucius seems to have noticed sooner. What a shame he did nothing to stop you from resigning. 

You said some interesting things at the event. Or, at least, I’m sure it was all interesting. Please don’t fault me for not understanding a word of it. You see, I’m very stupid. It’s true that I bought my way into college. In fact, you’re right: I never did learn how to read. I’m going to go home and ask my butler what a librarian is. 

You must be wondering how I’m writing this then. The thing is, I’m rich. I can do whatever I want. The pen has to move because I’m telling it to. It can’t afford being sued. My lawyers are really, really good. 

I’m sure you have much more to say to me, [Y/N]. I may even begin to understand if you give me enough time to learn from you.  

Tomorrow is Saturday. The office is closed. I’ll wake up at 7, Alfred will make me a smoothie, I’ll meditate, work out a bit. Then I’ll drink and fuck around. Not very interesting.  

Certainly not as interesting as being shouted at by you. 

There’s a nice little souvlaki place around the corner from your place. I saw the owner throw a piece of lettuce at a customer when we were driving by. I think he actually meant it as a friendly gesture. They were both laughing. Come with me on Saturday night? Maybe we can get a free piece of lettuce too. Or two, since it’ll be you and me. 

I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You can continue to admonish me all you like. For hours and hours. Teach me what I can and can’t use my company credit card for, so the next poor accountant who deals with me after you doesn’t have to cry over it ever again. That was you, wasn’t it? I remember you now. I'm sorry about that... truly. 

You know, now that I’m thinking about it, your shouting actually reminded me of my nanny when I was six years old. Not that she was ever drunk around me or anything. She just shouted a lot. She used to show that she loved me by calling me a vexing child. I think it was German for lovely, or something like that. Maybe cute? 

Anyway, rest up, drink plenty of fluids. I can’t have you throwing up in the souvlaki shop, the owner might not like us then.  

Respond using my business email. Don’t worry. I only give my number to people I’m looking to hook up with. Lucky for you, I just want to have souvlaki and learn how to read from you. So, no phone number for you. 

Bring your best insults. I’ll enjoy them. You’ll enjoy them. Win-win.  

So, come. Please. 

 Yours, 

Bruce. 

 And it was your imagination, too, that you sent him that requested email.  

In your imagination, you had to thank him for last night, after all. 

It began with: 

Dear Bruce, — 

#bruce wayne #batman #dc #dc comics #bruce wayne x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #fic #fanfic #reader x bruce wayne #bruce wayne/reader #reader/bruce wayne #reader insert #batman x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #lucius fox #roman sionis #gotham #christian bale #robert pattinson #welcometohellweofferimagines

[lacontroller1991]

Whumptober Day 5: Roman Sionis x F!Reader

Main Master List || Whumptober Master List

Day 5: Hostage/Kidnapping/Held at Gunpoint

Summary: With reader now being known as Roman Sionis’s girlfriend, she becomes an easy target.

WARNINGS: 18+ Graphic depiction of physical assault, graphic mention of blood/bruises/swelling, gang violence, mention of drugs, reader didn't know that Sions runs a mob, graphic depiction of murder, gun usage, slight PTSD

The room is cold and dark. You don’t know where you are but you definitely know that you’re not back at home. Home. A place where you were ripped away from without anyone knowing. A harsh hand slaps across your face, causing your head to whip to the side. “I’m going to ask you this one more time, where is Sionis keeping his supply.” You let out a whimper as the man you don’t know grips onto your face, squishing your already aching face in between his short, fat fingers. 

“I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Another slap lands across your face as you spit out some blood. 

“So you’re meaning to tell me that Sionis’s little pet doesn’t know where he’s storing the drugs?” The man snarls as your eyes widen. Drugs? What on earth is he talking about? Sure, Roman is a bit… eccentric, but he wouldn’t be dealing drugs. Would he?

“What drugs?” You cry out, the rope binding your arms to the chair rubbing your skin raw as the man backs up, looking you over.

“Do you seriously not know that your lover is a crime boss?” He laughs as the others around you also laugh, confusion among other feelings predominating your emotions.

“He owns a club. That’s all he does.” You try to defend but something tells you that even you don’t believe it.

“Oh you sweet, sweet child. You really don’t have a clue. Roman Sionis owns a club, it’s true. But he is also one of the crime lords supplying Gotham with its drug problem.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Tears well in your eyes as your brain starts putting the pieces together. The random stains in some of his clothes. The faint smell of gunpowder. The random screams you hear. His off-putting behavior. It all makes sense now. Sensing your revelation, the man motions to two of the guys behind you. 

“Take her away.”

—-------

“Roman.” Zsasz walks in, a packet in his hands as Roman looks up from his desk, hair messy and still in his pajamas.

“What is it? Did you find her?” He walks around the desk towards his right hand man. The first few hours of your disappearance Roman has just thought that you finally decided to leave him and he threw a rage fit. He really only calmed down when Zsasz pointed out the fact that all of your stuff is still in the apartment and nothing was missing, only you. Which led to the conclusion that you have been taken. In which Roman quickly mobilized his men to try and hunt you down.

Handing Roman the file, Zsasz quickly steps away, knowing that Roman would likely throw another fit once he sees the contents. Opening the file, he pulls out the photos and he sees red. One photo is you in a chair, tied to the posts. Another photo is more of a close up where he sees the rope cutting into your skin. The last photo is another close up, but this time of your face. Bruises and swelling around your eyes, beaten cheeks, bruised, swollen, bloody lips and it makes his blood boil.

“What do you want to do boss?” Roman looks up and Zsasz’s eyes widen. Sure he’s seen Roman angry, but the calmness on Roman’s face even has Zsasz intimated. 

“Gather everyone.”

—-----

The sound of gunfire stirs you out of your unconsciousness and causes you to jump, only to be met with resistance. Men shouting orders and profanities barely contrast to the amount of gun fire being shed. You begin to cry, terrified of what’s going on. You try to get out of the binds but it’s only rubbing against your already broken skin. After a few minutes the gunfire stops, shoes clicking against the floor and you can hear a gun cock. 

“No. Please. No. No.” A voice begs as the footsteps stop.

“Where is she?” The voice sounds vaguely familiar but it also sounds muffled, like there’s a mask covering the voice.

“She’s in there!” Your eyes widen as you realize that they’re talking about you. Full out crying, you’re trying to loosen the rope as much as possible but it doesn’t budge. 

“Thank you for your cooperation.” A single gunshot rings out and you let out a sob, shutting your eyes and silently praying that whoever just murdered that person is not here to murder you. “Open it.” The door creaks open as feet rush in, one coming directly towards you.

“Please don’t hurt me. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything.” You beg, tears falling down your face as you turn away.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m here. Roman’s here.” Your eyes slowly open as much as they can as you turn your head towards the voice. 

“Roman? What are you doing here?” He shushes you as you feel your hands become free, the rope that was once holding you back now gone as you surge into Roman’s arms. “Oh Roman, it was so terrible. They said terrible things. They said that you run a gang and that you’re storing drugs?” His silence is deafening and you realize that the person who had you captured was right. “He was right, wasn’t he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses your claim but you know. 

“I can’t believe you. Why would you do that?”

“Look baby, we can talk about this later, but we need to get you some medical care. Kay?” You begrudgingly decide to let it go, letting Roman help you out of the chair. He motions for Zsasz and another henchmen to help you but you jerk away from them and into Roman. “You guys go away,” Roman motions for them to leave and as they do, Roman sweeps you up into his arms, knowing that you probably won’t like the fact that the floors are littered with bodies. “Just focus on me, okay. I’m going to get you out of here and we’ll talk.”

“Promise?” You lay your head into his shoulder as he struggles not to gag at the fact that your blood is getting on his Gucci suit. 

“I promise.” 

#roman sionis x you #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #lacontroller1991 #Ewan mcgregor #harley quinn and the birds of prey #harley quinn movie #reader insert #female reader #roman Sions x reader #black mask

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Bait the Beast.

Summary: You misbehave at a party, embarrassing your boyfriend and he doesn't take it super well.

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Roman Sionis

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, stabbing (not each other), chocking, pet names (Kitten), Bratty reader, Daddy Roman, is glove kink a thing?

You can’t believe that Roman made you come to another one of these parties, they were so fucking boring. Not to mention that all the so-called important people here are lame! Just old dudes playing cards and drinking whiskey, while you sit at the bar alone. Normally you’d at least have one of the girls to keep you company, but since Harley and Ivy shacked up they never come to these stupid things anymore. Lucky them you think, swallowing your third cocktail and trying to read your book when you feel slime incarnate slither it's disgusting way towards you. 

“Aren't you the hottest little spitfire in the room,” Oswald says, sliding his hand behind your back and making you want to puke.

“Hands of Os. You know how Roman gets,” you protest, trying to worm away from him.

“That asshole, I could treat you better than he ever could. You’d be my queen,”

“I would rather die,” 

“I could arrange that, Princess,”

“Enough,” you stab into one of his hands that was creeping close to your ass, your other hand holding your favorite dagger to his face, “Want to see just what I learnt from Roman?”

"Kitten!" Romans loud voice echoes from across the room, "What the fuck are you doing?" 

"Who me?" You stare up innocently at him, pulling the knife from Cobblepots hand as you go.

"Were leaving," his gloved hand wraps around the top of your arm, pushing you out in front of him, "Kitty, we have talked about this!" He screams in your ear, snatching the knife from your hand, turning to sneer at you and bringing the knife to your chin when you reach the door. "Always go for the face," 

"Fuck you, Harley said hands where easier,"

"Again with fuckin Quinn,"

"Oh, fuck off. What is your problem with her anyway?"

“She turned you into this fuckin bitch," Roman says, his gloved hand harshly grip's your forearm, the leather burning as he twists his fingers around. His rings dig in while he leads you from the party, his feet kicking at your heels to get you to move faster. Anger seething from his pores, his eyes focusing on the door while he directs you to the parking lot of the old club.

"Oh fuck you. You asshole," you say, ripping your arm from his hand so fast his rings leave scorch marks in their wake. 

"Get in the fucking car!"

"Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" You yell back, flinging the car door open, climbing into the front seat and slamming the door closed behind you. 

Roman just stands there staring at you, you glare back. Smirking at him and tapping on your imaginary watch, "well- are we going or what?"

He strides around the car, silent and deadly. Not saying a word to you, he starts the car. His eyes focus on the road but you decide that well, this is just too much fun. So continue to antagonize your scary ass boyfriend all the way home in the car. You can tell by the way his veins start to pop on his forehead and the thin line of his lips that it's working exactly the way you want it to.

Xx

"You need to watch your mouth whore," he says, shoving you through the door to your apartment. 

"Or what?" You spit back, “I'm not afraid of you,”

“You should be,”

“Oh get fucked,”

“You're about to. You insolent little bitch.”

“You think you can just boss everyone ‘round,” you shout, your arms failing by your sides, “I ain't one of your goons Roman.”

He was upon you before you even had a chance to flinch, taking your face in his hands, raising one eyebrow at you. His fingers grip tightly on your chin. His rings pressing patterns into your cheeks, “what happened to the sweet girl you used to be, Kitten?”

“I am what you made me,” you spit back, jerking your face to the side and pushing your hands against his hard chest. Roman leans down right next to your ear, his voice almost a whisper, “Run, before I do something I regret, Kitten,”

You didn't need more warning than that. Kicking your heels off, you take off as fast as your feet will carry you. You head towards the bathroom, not chancing a look behind you, knowing that he is totally following you.

Rounding the corner to the ensuite you hear the snap of his belt, a thud as his Chanel boots hit the wall. He was closer than you thought. You slide into the bathroom like it’s home base, slamming the door closed and flipping the lock shut.

Leaning back against the door you take a deep breath and try to steady your heart beat, but it's no use. You can feel it hammering like it's just joined a fucking marching band.

“Open the door Kitten,” Roman says, jingling the door handle. “open it now and I'll think about forgiving you for what happened at the party,”

“I don't want your forgiveness,” you shout standing up and moving back from the door. You knew what his next move world be, “Cobblepot fucking deserved it”

“Now Kitten, we've talked about this attitude of yours,” the door handle stopped moving. You watch the steel of Roman’s favourite knife slice through the gap in the door.

“I ain't got an attitude problem!” You stomp, keeping up the pretense, while you hastily start removing your clothes. "You're the one with the problem," It would only be a matter of seconds before he stormed through the door, sitting down on the counter now full nude you waited a millisecond.

“Kitten, you fucking brat I can’t” he cut off seeing you sit on the sink your legs spread apart your aching pussy on full display for him, the door in splinter’s behind him. Romans eyes dancing along every inch of your exposed skin.

“You were saying,” you tease running your hand up your thigh, your nails leaving red marks along your soft skin.

“Yes,” he blinks a few times, "I was saying,” He straightens himself up, stalking his way over to you, “you've been such a bad girl tonight,” his hand harshly grips your face, “don't think this display will ease your punishment Kitten,” he pulls you in for a harsh kiss that is all teeth and tongue. A warning of what's to come.

“Sounds like you're all talk to me,” you mumble into his mouth and when his eyes open into a glare, you wink at him.

“That so?” his hands dig into your thighs radpily throwing you over his shoulder and his hand slams on your ass, “I'm going to have to fuck this attuide right outa you,” he slaps you again.

You hold the moan in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction before your own hand hits him in the ass, a deep growl coming from his throat.

“You're asking for it,” he growls, throwing your body into the plush silk blankets. His hand wraps around your throat, the other working quickly to undo his pants. 

“Get fucked,” you snip kicking him in the leg making his body fall atop yours, crushing you down even further. His grip tightens on your throat, his eyes menacing when he looks back at you.

“You're about to be,” he slams his cock into you from behind. Filling and stretching your tight pussy. “You still want to be a bitch?” he growls, thrusting deep within you and grinding his cock down.

You turn to spit in his face, his tongue immediately darting out to catch it. “Take that as a yes,” he pulls out, filling you until you feel like you might actually burst from pleasure. His hand slapping into your ass, the stinging sending a whole different type of bliss down your legs.

“I'm gunna fuck you like I own you,” he growls his teeth sinking into your neck, “Because I do. Don’t I Kitten?” he lathes at your neck, “Tell me I own you.”

You can't help the moan that escapes your lips, your urge to comply growing with every harsh thrust. His hand slaps onto your ass, “say it. Be a good girl and tell me I own you,”

“Yes, yes. You own me,” you pant as he pushes your face into the pillow,

“Tell me your my bitch,”

“Yes, fuck,” his hand slides between you rubbing at your clit,

“You going to be a good girl for me?” His hand slides up your neck pulling you back by the hair,  your back is pressing into his hard chest.

“Whatever you want,” you moan feeling your climax approaching 

“That's right,” he pounds deeper and harder, feeling your walls clenching around him, “such an obedient little whore with my cock deep in you.”

“Fu-” you cry. He flips you, dragging you underneath him without pulling you out. 

“Kitten, wrap-”  your legs locking tight behind his, pulling him back into your sopping pussy, “Just like that. Good girl,” 

“You need it,” he thrusts, “crave it,” he leans down to kiss you, “it's all you think about,”

“Yes! Yes! Yeeess” you scream.

“Then cum on my cock, my perfect whore,” your whole body shakes like a jenga tower on the last block when your orgasm crashes into you. Romans gloves hold you tight so you don't slip away as he continues to fuck you senseless.

Chasing his own release with his head buried in your neck, “please Daddy,” your voice still breathless, “please fill me up,” your brain still goo as you try to coax his release from him, “I need it,”

“Fuck” he stutters his hips faltering as his hot cum floods you so full that it starts seeping down your leg. 

Collapsing onto you, your fingers glide down his back as you both try to remember how to words. Sweat pool’s between you, both your legs sticky and covered in your release. 

“Should I stab people more often?” You joke, smiling up at Roman when he leans back.

“If someone tries to touch you again. Yes, stab as many of them as you want, Kitten.”

#roman sionis x you #fem reader x roman sionis #reader x black mask #fem reader x black mask #black mask x you #black mask reader insert #black mask smut #black mask x reader #black mask #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis imagine

[mywitchcultblr]

Shipping myself with Roman Sionis because why the hell not?

#ye #x reader #reader insert #self ship #Darlin #dc #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #roman sionis #rommy baby #gay

[thegreatwicked]

FicRecs

Enjoy some of my favorite stories I've come across on Tumblr! Seriously, I LOVE these stories and I reread them A LOT!

Please note: Virtually ALL OF THESE STORIES ARE SMUT. That means 18+ content, and you are responsible for managing your internet consumption. Minors DNI.

FicRecs

DC Comics

Dance for Daddy by @matth1w LAWD. I love me some Roman Sionis fics and this one DELIVERS. Sexy, kinky, smutty I give it a solid Chefs Kiss.

Joy Ride and Let Me Make You Feel Good, The Intern by @littleredwing89 More delicious Roman Sionis one shots Joy ride is about teasing Roman as he drives and Let Me Make You Feel Good is about a sweet smutty cure for a hangover. And the Intern, a fuck buddies to lovers story, god yum. Reader inserts. Drool. Go forth read and enjoy.

Bait the Beast by @more-cardigan-than-womanLord help me, I found a new little gem. You cause a bit of a ruckus with Coblepot and Roman thinks you need a lesson.

Yours by @tarrenterror25set in the AO! Verse Roman is having some trouble during the holidays overcoming everything the Joker did to him, good thing he has you. Because he does. You're his now. Melt. Sorry about the mess.

Star Wars

Water and Rock by @split-spectrum I honestly cannot say enough good things about this story It follows Obi-wan/Fem Reader in the classic Master/Padawan troupe and it. is. SPICY. Up to twelve chapters which I have read MULTIPLE TIMES and it hits so hard. Go read this story it is sexy as HELL and gives you the feels. She's so damn good at writing Obi-Wan it hurts, but like in a kinky good way.

The Gift by @ladyinwriting18 I have already spoke at length about the fabulousness that is Lady in Writing and her amazing content. This one is a favorite! Its a Maul/Reader Insert and it is smutty sxy and kinky. Seriously if Maul is your fictional crush (Hi me too!), go read this.

The Three Princes Part One: The Oldest Profession by @thenightmarketofdathomir This writer is freaking legendary. I do not know the collection of words in my own language to describe the eloquence and sophistication this writer possesses. Just go. Go read this and you let me know if you're ever the same again. This gem stars our boy Feral and is a you/reader insert. Oh damn, this story makes me want things...

Birthday Wish, Romancing the Pages, The Write Seduction, To Create Life, by @jedianjakenobi Y'all, this author holds a special place in my writer's heart. She's a published author on Amazon and she's truly amazing. Her works are all Obi-Wan-centered and reader inserts. Birthday Wish is a birthday crush from your sexy neighbor, Romancing the Pages is a fake relationship/summer romance with a reclusive shy librarian (Ben) and a best-selling author, The Write Seduction is a professor Kenobi/writing student story and it is SPICY. And my favorite To Create Life is a Jedi Council green lights a baby-making program and who else is the reader paired with? Their good friend Padawan Kenobi. My darlings, my friends, if you like Obi-Wan smut then you are doing yourselves a disservice by NOT reading these.

Empty Me Out by @221bshrlocked reader insert/DOM Obi-Wan I'm tellin y'all this story NEARLY killed me. I've lost track of how many times I've readit. You're an entertainer and Master Kenobi needs information from you, so you give him what he wants and then he gives you what you want. Where it Wasn't massage therapy reader insert/Obi-Wan, do I need to say more? Pretty sure I melted into the floor with this one.

His Loving Satine by @waterlily707 I love reader insterT and OCs but these two Obi-Wan and Satine are a joy to read. Temporary paralyzed Obi-Wan at the "mercy" of a slightly dom Satine. Juicy, gorgeous, little bit of fluff. Love it.

Room 24 by @murdockussy Little angsty Obi-Wan/reader insert enemies to lovers in an undercover assignment-type situation. Spicy, dom Obi-Wan give. Me. More.

Tea with Lemon, Tea with Honey by @wickedscribbles an established relationship as a reader insert and Obi-Wan. If you want honey then you get to take care of a sick Obi-Wan and kind out you have a new kink, if you want Lemon then Obi-Wan takes advantage of said kink and whisks you away to another planet for some R&R under the guise of "work." Enjoy!

Actors/Characters

Ben Hardy

Hold Me Close, Don't Let Me Go by @stray-kaz God. This one shot is just sxy as hell, it's a Billy/Four fro, 6 Underground/Female Reader. Our boy comes home to one hell of an 'I missed you, I need you right now' welcome. GO read it. Right now.

Such an Experience by @rogermyreligionOk. Guys... FUCK, this is a hot little oneshot Roger Taylor of Queen/Female reader and OMG. Just go read it. I've officially stopped counting how many times I've read this. Smutty/Sexy. I'm dead.

Long Distance by @acciotwinzwinz. Y'ALL. Sit your asses down and read this Roger Taylor/Reader insert/You. It's fluffy, its sexy, its cute and the smut is -chefs kiss- Yes, I read this one a lot too.

For now, these are some of my favorites that I frequently reread because I love them. I'll probably be adding more, it's more than likely I've forgotten some...

#fic rec #ben hardy characters #star wars #dc comics #jason todd #roman sionis #all smut all the way #billy/four x reader #roger taylor #obi wan x reader #obi-wan smut #roman sionis smut #jason todd smut #darth maul x you #darth maul smut #Support writers content #My favorite fanfics

[stvlti]

I think you're gonna hate this so I apologize in advance but the songs on that JayRoman playlist you made are literally perfect for my Roman Sionis x reader insert fic.

Lmao that's fine, you fuck that lipless old man if you want to

#anon answered #im not about to kinkshame #I was just telling my mutual that we're freak4freak lol we're all into different freak shit

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Always Have

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YWl48tn by darlingireadit Bruce Wayne is your childhood best friend, Roman Sionis is your childhood sweetheart. You've been getting in between their fights for as long you can remember. Words: 986, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Black Mask Oneshots Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Roman Sionis, Bruce Wayne, Reader Relationships: Roman Sionis/Reader, Roman Sionis/You, Roman Sionis & Reader, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Bruce Wayne/You, Bruce Wayne & Reader, Bruce Wayne & You, Roman Sionis/Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/YWl48tn

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

[littleoddwriter]

I’m curious about 19 and 21 from the writer ask game! I imagine it’s quite exhausting sometimes as a writer.

Hey there! Thank you for asking, and yeah, to be honest with you, it is quite exhausting (for me it's all the time, djhfkfhsjkh), but also fun; otherwise I wouldn't do it. :')

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

Technically I started when I was around twelve when I wrote self-inserts about my favourite character (Nnoitra Jiruga from Bleach). I wrote those in a notebook I had and luckily never shared them, except with my friends. I just had all those daydreams and wanted to write them out because I always enjoyed expressing myself in every possible way. Then between ages 13 to 15/16, I wrote fanfiction online already. In German. I started with fics about my favourite anime/manga at the time, and then went over to RPF about YouTubers I liked at the time. (I know, scandalous. This is the shameful thing I mentioned in the first post of these, they haunt me to this day because I see now how RPF is wrong, but at the time it was SO normal that I didn't question it and just went with what the adults and other kids around me were doing, to be honest.) After that I tried writing some Star Trek fanfics in English, but never uploaded those. I was 16 at the time. Then I stopped writing altogether. And then I picked it back up in 2020 with Birds of Prey fuelling me with the urge to write stories about Roman Sionis and ZsaszMask and even Reader fics, and so I did it (obviously). I'm happy I did and uploaded them, despite never having written and uploaded anything like that in English before and having been terrified of it. It led to wonderful things now, after all. :') <3 So, as you can see, I hit quite a few bumps, a really long one, too; but I found my way back and am growing every day. At the moment, I'm genuinely satisfied with what I'm doing and where I am in terms of my writing. My only plan for the future is writing and publishing my book, hopefully. That would be a dream come true for me. <3

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

As mentioned above, I have quit before. I won't do it again, though. I couldn't. It brings me joy and it helps me through the tougher times of my life. :')

#ronny.exe #ask game

[matth1w]

Dancing for Daddy

Pairing: Roman Sionis/Black Mask x Female Reader

Summary: ((Porn with plot 🤷🏻‍♀️)) Roman likes what he sees when he catches you letting loose and dancing on the table.

Warnings: SMUT, Alcohol, language, Dom/Sum, Daddy, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), choking, squirting, glove kink (bc of COURSE), and uhhhh eyeliner kink??

Rating: MATURE/18+

Word Count: 2,352 words

Note: I have been absolutely astounded by y’all’s response with the announcement!! I hope you enjoy!! // Does NOT contain Birds of Prey spoilers!

Roman Tag List (Open):  @stardancerluv / @redspaceace / @darling-i-read-it / @tales-from-gotham / @vintagemichelle91 / @ladyofhellhounds / @aliasimagines / @justauthoring / @daphne-fandom-writing / @themanthemyth-thelegend / @ewanfuckingmcgregor / @taylorzunigaa / @troybcker / @ntlmundy / @21stcenturywitchcraft / @theblackmaskclub / @jokersdoll​ / @ryjo1992​ / @highly-unknown​ / @nighttime2am​

“Boss,” Zsasz mutters in Roman’s ear.

Roman follows Zsasz’s gaze, instantly landing on your form as you smile seductively at him from your place on the table across the club’s floor.

And it looks like he’s not the only one watching. You’ve attracted the attention of nearly everyone sober enough to notice. Your hips swaying hypnotically to the music, a low, steady bass filling the room that matches the dangerous mix of attraction, admiration, and anticipation as you, the Hostess, put on a show.

“Want me to get her down?” Zsasz asks as Roman  takes a slow drink from his bourbon, eyes never leaving yours.

He chuckles as he stands and buttons his jacket, taking a moment to look away.

“No. I’ll get her down myself.”

— — —

You open your eyes as you turn your head from its place nuzzled in your raised arms, a smile blossoming on your lips as you see Roman stalking toward you.

The butterflies were instant. You know the look in his eyes wasn’t passionate rage, although it may have looked like it to everyone else with the way the crowd parted.

You know it to be what it is.

Deep,

dark,

uncontrollable

desire.

You bite your lip, adrenaline coursing as you wink at Roman before twirling around and moving slightly more slowly, bringing your hands to your body to roam. The song’s beat slowed, matching the movement of your hips.

Roman finally comes to a stop, shoes clicking loudly in the now almost silent room - the music having been lowered to a murmur.

“Darling?” he calls to you, voice light but strained with the effort to contain his desires. You knew he wouldn’t last long so you turned around.

Your eyes light up as they met his. He steps up to you and places his hands together before pulling one of his gloves off.

A shiver runs through you.

He holds it in his hand for a moment before throwing it onto the table below you.

He holds your eyes as he takes his final step to you. Instantly running his bare hand up your leg, stopping just above your knee.

“Everyone out”. He orders with a low voice, still holding your eyes.

He squeezes your leg and you had to stop yourself from squeezing them together. Your entire body so sensitive with the promise of what was to come in only a matter of seconds.

Seeing no one moving he breaks the stare, turns, and yells.

“Everyone fucking OUT!”

Everyone jumps, knowing this was their last chance.

Satisfied once the room cleared within seconds, Roman turns back to you, his eyes alight with now unhidden fire.

He is ready to eat you alive.

He keeps his hand on your leg, trailing it slowly down as he walks around the round table to the booth.

“C’mere kitten,” he practically growls. Lust dripping from his words.

Your breath hitches in your throat, your slight intoxication making everything more vibrant, more powerful.

He leans closer as you lean down, placing your hand in his as you step onto the booth, legs on either side of him.

Roman had the perfect view and couldn’t help but groan at the sight.

“Fuck, kitten. You look delicious.”

Your body tenses and you smile, wanting nothing more at that moment.

He chuckles at your reaction. “Do you want that?”

You nod quickly and bite your lip once more, containing a whine from escaping.

He teases his hand up your leg, moving slowly and keeping the pressure light.

“Use your words, babydoll.”

“Y-yes” you breathe out almost instantly.

“Come down then”. Roman smirks and you can’t contain the deep whine this time as you lower yourself to your knees on the seat of the booth. The leather groaning slightly under your body.

He looks up at you before giving you his still-gloved hand. You take the tip of the index finger into your mouth and bite down lightly, letting him pull his hand out.

He matches the movement, teeth meeting teeth with a click. His gaze follows the dropping glove next to him, his eyes holding on the glove one moment, allowing you to stroke the side of his face as he licks a stripe up your thigh in response.

Roman turns his head up at you as your hand reaches his chin and he leans in back, resting on the back of the booth. A hungry look in his black-lined eyes. All but physically drooling.

“Tell me you want me,” He commands with a whisper as he runs his hands up both your legs. Igniting every inch under his touch.

His eyes are so intense, overflowing with passion and desire - you want to look away.

Instead you run your fingers through your lover’s hair and pull the threads, making him close his eyes with a deep groan within his chest.

“Oh, babygirl.” He growls and finishes with a dark laugh.

Springing his head back up, he breathes you in before lifting your dress and diving into your covered core.

He groans once his lips touch the velvet.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, darlin,”

He pulls back and smirks up at you. You let out the breath you had taken upon feeling his hot tongue against you and bite your lip.

“All for you, Mr. Sionis”

He growls at that.

“Oh you are all mine, Mrs. Sionis.”

He peels back your underwear to the side before giving you one last look with a wink as he buries his face between your legs.

Your hands fly to his hair, your only stabilizer as you writhe against him. Soon your shaky breaths and loud moans fill the room as he begins sucking, licking, and pleasuring every intimate inch of you.

You want to savor the moment but you know Roman’s lost control. He want to bring you to the edge as fast and as hard as possible.

His tongue laps up at you as you grind your body into his face, loving the extra tingle the slight stubble on his face brings.

He peeks up at you and winks as he meets your eyes and you want to laugh but all that comes out is a gasp as he’s flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You tense as you feel Roman’s fingertips flirt with your lips, your body beginning to quake as you know what he wants.

You squeeze the locks of hair you have tangled in your fingers and whine.

“Please, Roman,”

He hums a pleased laugh against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core.

You won’t last much longer.

He pulls away to watch you as he brings two fingers to the center, teasing

Once,

Twice,

Three

times before diving in and instantly curling.

You throw your head back in a long groan but then quickly struggle to take a breath as he brings his mouth back to you.

His tongue is moving in perfect synchrony with his fingers, in and out at a fast, steady pace.

You feel it building.

He takes your clit into his mouth once more, responding to your clenching walls.

“Ro-Ro” you gasp, unable to say anything more between your hurried breaths.

Roman doesn’t even ask as he hurries his movements just enough to take all breath from your lungs and start your orgasm.

With one second of calm you take a breath, he pushes into you again, his mouth harsh and rough and

Oh GOD

“So good”

Your mantra begins as your legs shake,

“So good”

“So good”

“So...”

The wave slams into you and you pull his head in, smothering him as you let go.

He takes every drop and your senses flow back as he slows his movements and removes his fingers from you.

You open your eyes and look down as Roman takes his covered fingers into his mouth.

Groaning as he sucks, and stares into your eyes.

Satisfied, he smacks lips and runs thumb across his lips.

“You want more, kitten?”

You nod, somehow already getting excited again by the thought of him filling you up.

He drags his wet hand from his mouth and the other from its place on your thigh to his crotch.

Roman palms himself and your mouth waters.

You want to taste everything he has to offer you.

He unfastens his belt, button and zipper, and slides his pants and underwear just enough to free himself.

His cock is hard and pulsing with desire.

He meets your eyes as you finally look away from the object of your desire and he smiles widely.

“Come sit down for Daddy.”

Your eyes roll back with a shiver.

You lower yourself to his lap as you guide yourself slowly onto him, hand resting on his pelvis once you’re fully seated.

You bring your hands to his face and stare into his blue eyes for a moment - allowing you both to simply bask in the feeling of your bodies conjoined.

You grind as you pull his face to yours, catching his open mouth in a dirty kiss. A groan passes from one to the other and Roman squeezes your hips as he pulls away and nuzzles his head into your neck.  

“Kitten...”

He’s warning you. If you can’t handle it you‘ll have to say it now.

But you don’t. You want him hard and rough and dirty and fast.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and he takes the cue.

Instantly he’s slamming up into you, pounding your body so hard you’re shaking like a rag doll and wildly screaming.

He angles his hips up and moves your hips in circles, dragging your clit around his body, the feeling electrifying you with every movement.

It’s all so much. So euphoric.

You know you won’t last long.

Roman goes back to jackhammering you. Causing the screams in your throat to stick and eyes to squeeze shut and roll back.

“Who’s your daddy, babygirl?”, he asks as he slows but instead mercilessly pushes as deep as he can go.

His hand glides up your throat, a gentle reminder of his possession.

“Y-you”, you gasp.

“Cmon I want to hear you scream it.” He roars.

“Who’s. Your. Daddy?”

He thrusts harder and rougher, emphasizing each word.

“Oh god, Oh Fu- You, Roman”

He’s driving into you, spurred on by your breathless words, hands now gripping your hips hard as he holds you above him, angling you perfectly so he continually hits your deepest point.

“Oh fuck, YES! Oh god, I’m all yours, Roman. All...”

He drives into you and you’re breathless. So close to the edge, only a hair away from tumbling over.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck Ro- I-“ you curl your toes and grab his hair once more, tugging wildly in feverish urgency.

He looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still shining from your previous climax.

“You going to cum all over Daddy’s cock, Princess?”

“Oh yes! Oh PLEASE, Daddy. Please let me cum”, you sob. The ecstasy of being on the edge swallowing every feeling except him.

“You want it babygirl?” He’s breathless.

“Yes!” You cry.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing you as he lifts your body up and down. Fucking into you like a toy.

“I don’t think you do.” He growls, pushing his face to your chest to bite at your breasts through the dress.

You can’t take it.

“Yes, fuck PLEASE roman, please let me cum.”

“That’s a good girl.”

He muses, slowing again.

“Mmm. My good girl.”

He does two quick thrusts with the snap of his hips.

The hand around your throat squeezes, causing black to cloud the edges of ceiling as your throw your head back.

“But Daddy gets to cum first.”

A few more hard thrusts as your walls are clenching around him his body shaking as he continues to fuck as he cums deep inside you.

You both know what’s coming next. What he’s pulling out of you.

The pressure builds, you feel Roman groan and still before picking up a brutally fast pace. His cock slamming into yours as he buries himself in you, the sound of your bodies euphoric and pornographic as you ride his cum covered cock.

He moves his hands so one is rubbing your clit, the other on your back, tilting your body towards him.

The feelings are all too much. The pleasure overwhelming your body.

You mouth hangs open, unable to form any words.

He pushes his hand harder against your clit, rubbing so incredibly fast you can’t hold it any longer.

“Cmon. Squirt all over me, babygirl.”

The dam breaks instantly at his plea and you’re spasming over him and under his touch, his body holding you up and pulling gush after gush from you.

The high lasts - clouding your vision, the ringing in your ears, the absence of time of heaven on earth.

The shaking stops, his fingers still, and his kisses move to your body.

“Such a good girl” Roman whispers into your body between kisses as you remain mute and overwhelmed.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You eventually come down enough to run your hand through his hair. He looks up at you with complete adoration and you shiver with a laugh as he twitches inside you.

You hold his head in your hands and lean down for a kiss. Pushing your lips every so slightly rough with your lack of senses hindering your ability to finely control your movements.

You pull back, still breathless and giggle as you keep your foreheads pressed together.

“Fu-fu...”

You kiss him again. Pulling away with a drag of his lips following yours.

“Fuck.” You finally get out, blinking heavily, while you learn how to control your body once more.

“Yeah?” He pushes your hips forward, sending a groan that travels from his body to yours.

“Y-Yeah.” You laugh, as you kiss him just right this time.

Roman chuckles as he pulls away and looks at you. Eyes running over your face that just screams you were thoroughly fucked out.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, sugar.”

#roman sionis #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #roman sionis smut #roman sionis reader insert #black mask #black mask x reader #black mask fanfiction #black mask smut #black mask reader insert #birds of prey #birds of prey fanfiction #bop #bop fanfiction #Smut #tw: smut #tw: alcohol #tw: language #tw: dom/sub #tw: daddy #tw: daddy kink #tw: choking

[littleredwing89]

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD

LET ME MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD

Roman Sionis x Reader

Summary: Roman followed your body, his palms inching up your silk slip meeting the curve of your breasts, “Playing hard to get?”.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Mild Daddy kink. Cockwarming.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Thought we could all do with a sprinkle of Roman this festive season. Dedicated to my beautiful Roman hoes - @more-cardigan-than-woman​ @candid-confetti​ - enjoy and Happy New Year beauties 🎆🎇 xoxo 

————

Roman snaked his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush into his. He absorbed your warmth, laying rough kisses behind your ear, his heavy breath fanning down your neck. The scent of your perfume had faded but it lingered on his bedsheets, the smell sweet and spicy.

The scratch of his stubble against your sensitive skin made you shiver as Roman roused you from your slumber. You blinked and hissed when the early morning sun invaded your eyes. It caused the sharp throbbing pain in your temples to amplify, making your vision blur. You shuffled forward in the sheets, trying to pull out of his grip.

He pressed his hips into yours and growled in your ear before leaving hot, heavy kisses down your exposed neck. The outline of his hard cock ground into your ass from behind.

You shifted your body away from him carefully and whined burying your face into the pillows, the cool fabric felt perfect against your pounding head. The room was still spinning even though you were lying down.

Roman followed your body, his palms inching up your silk slip meeting the curve of your breasts, “Playing hard to get?”.

You groaned, trying to focus your senses, “Rom…”.

Groping your breasts with his calloused hands, he ground his shaft into your ass, groaning deeply in your ear, “Don’t play coy with me…I know how much you love my cock”.

“Unless your cock has Advil in it, I'm not in the mood”, you turned your face away from him, trying to put more distance between you. 

The kisses stopped across your shoulder and you felt Roman rub his stubble across your preening flesh, “Wait…are you—hungover?”. His smirk curled his lips and you felt it brand your skin.

You scoffed, squishing your face into the expensive pillows, “No...”.

Oh but you were. Heavily. The festive party had run into the early hours of the morning, champagne flowing freely. You’d spent most of the evening dancing; you could tell; especially the way your feet ached. Those damn heels. They were gorgeous but holy hell they hurt.

Roman chuckled darkly and stroked your hips, “Oh darling”, he grinned, nipping your earlobe, enjoying the shiver that ran over your body, “You know what’s a good cure for a hangover?”.

“More alcohol?”, you mumbled into the pillows.

“An orgasm”, he whispered huskily, his hot breath trickling down your neck as he stroked up your thighs. His fingertips were so close to your rapidly dampening centre.

“Roman…”, you shuddered and wriggled against him, catching his pulsating cock, “I really don’t—oh!”, a moan fell from your lips as his fingers rubbed your over clit, “My head…it’s pounding…”.

Coaxing you onto your back, Roman rolled on top of you. His solid body caged yours under him. You sighed in bliss, the familiar burn of desire flickering in the pit of your stomach. Without realising, your body relaxed, completely opening up to him as it had so many times before.

“That’s it darling”, he licked along your collarbone, “Daddy’s got you”. He slid between your open legs and pulled off the silky material adorning your body, leaving you bare beneath him.

“Mmm, such a good girl, aren’t you?”, Roman kissed down your chest, face resting between your breasts before he started licking and sucking over each of your nipples, nipping occasionally.

Your fingers carded through his hair, tugging as the pleasure shot through you. Roman growled as sharp pin pricks of pain scattered across his scalp before turning into flames of desire. Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them above your head, chuckling as you pouted.

“Rom..lemme touch you”, you pleaded quietly, finally opening your eyes to meet his. They were blown black with lust as he eyed your body greedily. You wrestled against his hold but he didn’t relent, merely dipping his head down to suck a mark behind your ear. You whined and arched your back, body flushing with heat.

Roman rocked his clothed cock against your bare core. He could feel the heat radiating from your centre, “You want Daddy to make you feel good?”.

You nodded eagerly and rolled your hips, catching his thick cock with every stroke, “Please…”. The sharp pains in your temple dulled as you flooded with the promise of pleasure.

“Whatever my princess wants”, Roman teased, releasing your wrists and kissed down your stomach. His lips left a hot, wet trail over your skin. He stopped just above your pussy, blowing hot air over your clit.

Sinking into the soft sheets, you purred his name, your fingers weaving back into his dark hair. His body pulsed with heat as it pressed in yours, making your skin flush with need. Your legs splayed open further exposing your soaked core to Roman.

“And to think you tried to pretend you didn’t want this”, Roman scoffed before kissing up the inside of your thighs, biting and sucking marks into your supple flesh.

“Daddy—please”, you shivered, feeling the throbbing in your head shoot down through your nerves, the slick making your folds glisten.

Roman rubbed his thumb over your clit, smirking when your body jolted, “You’re so sensitive”. His lips curled before he licked a long stripe through your folds, groaning at your taste.

You gasped arching your back off the bed, pulling at his hair, “Oh!”. Bolts of electric pleasure shooting along your frayed nerves.

He growled against your core, the husky vibrations travelling up your spine, making you sob out his name. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it relentlessly before sliding two thick fingers into your pussy.

“Oh! Fuck!”, you cried out, feeling his digits stretching out your pussy, thrusting in time with the strokes of his tongue. You writhed against him, rolling your hips with his rhythm, your edge falling closer, as your throat released husky moans.

The bristle of his five o’clock shadow burnt against your flesh as he devoured your pussy. His long, thick fingers brushing over all your sensitive spots. Driving you wild.

You sobbed out his name, body wracked with pleasure. You rocked against his face, chasing that delicious peak only he could give you.

His skilful tongue circled your clit mercilessly, dancing back and forth sending shockwaves through your senses. You tugged his hair harshly as your climax erupted, hot waves of euphoria crashing behind your eyes.

Roman smirked against your pussy, giving your folds slow, calculated licks, enjoying as you gasped with each one. Overstimulating your fried nerves. His fingers slowed, before he pressed them into your inner thigh, painting your skin with your dripping slick.

“Good girl”, his husky voice hummed, placing a kiss to the left of your navel.

———

Falling next to your body, Roman wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling your svelte form into his broad chest. His head rested in the curve of your neck, lips brushing your skin, “How’s the headache?”.

You hummed happily, “Mmm…Much better but now something else is aching…”. Moving back into him, you rubbed your ass against his throbbing cock. The desperation to feel it drive into you consuming your thoughts.

Roman growled and nipped your shoulder, grinding his shaft further into your inviting body. 

“I could help with that”, you murmured, twisting your arms behind you to wrap around his neck.

His calloused hands ran up and down your stomach before mapping upwards, palming your breasts. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them between his thumb and forefinger. The pleasure hit you in short, sharp bursts, making you rub more fervently into his cock, “Please Roman”.

“Whatever you want princess”, he grunted, kissing over a mark he left behind your ear. He released one of your nipples, allowing him to shove his boxers down freeing his hot, hard cock. You heard the slap of skin against his abs and you whimpered, aching to see it.

Roman lifted your leg backwards, settling it onto his muscled thigh, opening your sopping pussy up to him.

You whined his name and shuddered in anticipation, digging your nails into the back of his neck.

“I know princess, I know”.

He attacked your neck with hot, open mouthed kisses, soaking up each and every one of your reactions. You arched your back further into his chest, “I need you…now”.

Roman groaned, feeling your wet core glide along his pulsing shaft as you shuffled, trying to coax him inside you quickly.

“Please Daddy”, you begged in that soft, low voice you knew he loved.

Without any further hesitation, Roman slid his hard cock deep into your tight pussy, your slick making it easy. You both moaned in pleasure as your wet walls fluttered around his shaft, accommodating his girth and trying to pull him further. The burning stretch heightening the bliss flooding your senses.

“Such a good girl aren’t you?”, he ground out, his voice hoarse with built up desire, “Always so good for Daddy”.

“Move…please…”, you whispered.

Roman sunk his teeth into your shoulder and growled, “Be patient, princess”, he grunted and rutted his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your core, “I like to feel you wrapped nicely around my thick cock…”.

You whimpered and rolled your hips, urging him to start thrusting into you, desperate to feel him stretching your velvet walls.

“Please”.

Roman pinched your hip and stilled your movements, nipping the junction of your neck in warning, “Fuck”, he cursed when your walls clenched in response, “You feel so good…such a tight little pussy”.

Closing your eyes, you drowned in the overwhelming feelings flooding your senses. Your periphery blurred with frustration and desire. You moaned loudly when you felt the throb of his cock as your core tightened around him more. Roman grinned darkly, pinching and tweaking at your nipples, the raw pleasure bursting through you.

“Daddy!!”, you cried out when the rough pads of his fingers rubbed vigorously over your swollen clit.

“Daddy…Please!! Fuck!!”, your nails sank into his scalp, yanking at his dark locks. You murmured more words but they came out incoherent. Your mind a hazy mess. This seemed to please Roman as his hips lazily began to thrust up into your pussy. The wet sound sinful to your ears.

He groaned loudly in your ear from behind, heavy breaths and pants fanning down your neck. His fingers still rubbed at your clit as his pace picked up, driving himself harder and deeper into you.

Your walls pulsed around his shaft as your orgasm brimmed in the pit of your stomach. The coil tightened perfectly. You tried to hold off, wanting to last longer and revel in the sensations but Roman was making you feel too good.

“Cum for Daddy”, he muttered in your ear, kissing the sensitive spot behind it, his voice thick with lust, “Cum all over my cock princess”.

White hot desire scorched your nerves when your second orgasm ripped through your senses. Nerves thrumming with undeniable pleasure. You heard his stuttered breaths and his pace faltered as he emptied his hot seed into your core.

———

As you took in deep breaths to steady your racing pulse, you felt the pounding in your temples returning. A dull, heavy ache making the backs of your eyes sore. You groaned and pressed your face back into the cool pillow whining softly.

“Still hurts?”, Roman’s gruff voice rattled your mind as his hands mapped your waist.

You huffed, leaning into his touch, “Unfortunately”. 

He trailed his fingers down your spine, kissing the back of your neck, his stubble scratching your skin. You shuddered.

“I have an idea”, the deep gravel of his tone weaved into your mind and you bit your bottom lip.

“I think I'm spent in terms of sex”.

Roman chuckled, “Oh yeah, Daddy heard you”. He mockingly repeated your moans from earlier, smirking when he saw the tips of your ears turning pink.

“Roman!”, you slapped him then winced at the sound.

He caught your hand and bit at it, before kissing the tips of your fingers, “Why don’t we just stay in bed princess?”. Roman stretched out lazily next to you, relaxing into the expensive Egyptian cotton bed sheets. He groaned huskily as his limbs clicked.

Moving closer to him, you nuzzled into his side, pressing your cheek to his chest, “Mmmm…sounds like a good idea”.

————

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises​​​​ @internalsealpanic​​​​ - thank you for proof reading xoxo

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————

#roman sionis x reader #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis smut #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader insert #black mask imagine #black mask x reader #black mask smut #black mask x you #black mask x reader insert

[tawneybel]

Imagine Roman wondering what you meant when you told him you liked his mask and facesitting.

He was wearing it at the time, and while he could get fucked while masked, it wasn’t a comfortable seat for you. Victor suggests coming along. Just to help… clarify who’s sitting where. Also, Roman doesn’t mind sharing with his best friend.

#Roman Sionis #Victor Zsasz #Birds of Prey #imagine #smut #minors do not interact #Black Mask #NSFT #facesitting. #oral. #threesome. #masklophilia #DC #reader insert #villain imagine #Ewan McGregor #Chris Messina #DC Extended Universe #DCEU #Birds of Prey movie #Birds of Prey film #Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn #Harley Quinn #minors don’t interact #minors DNI #MDNI #DC imagine #Harley Quinn imagine #Black Mask imagine #Roman Sionis imagine

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

Bad Friends.

Summary: Hanging out at your boyfriends club was always more fun with Harley, unfortunately he's not a big fan of hers.

Pairing: Reader x Roman Sionis

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: SMUT, exhibition, Daddy kink, swearing, restrains, death threats, knives.

AN: I'm officially off the rails about Roman Sionis. There's just something about a psychopath in the suit that does it for me. @littleredwing89 as promised, I did manage to finally finish it,

"Hey Harls!" you shout, spotting your friend from across the bar waving her down towards you. She always did have the greatest fashion sense, the puffy jacket covering the yellow and pink striped overalls was really working for her somehow. You knew you'd never be able to pull off.

"Hey sugar," Harley says as she hands you a pink cocktail, "how's things?"

"Good," you say smiling over at Roman who was currently charming the pants off Falcone.

"Geez, I gotta say. I never thought a smart girl like you'd end up with this guy," she throws her hand over her shoulder at Roman.

"Even smart girls make mistakes," you raise your glass, but your eyes focus on the pudding cups tattoo that was now on her leg.

"Guess ya right, cheers to smart girls with dumb pussy's," You sat with Harley drinking the night away while Roman schmoozed with the crowd. Well until Harley, well- she was a bit too much for Romans liking and with about 30 drinks in her she got up. Throwing the puffy jacket away and digging into her pocket to throw glitter on you, "I dub thee, the sexiest queen of crime Gotham has ever seen," she says leaning down to lay what you assumed is suppose to be an affirming kiss on your forehead.

"Are you trying to get killed?" You say, tugging her on the arm and pulling her off the table. You don't even have to look to know that Roman is headed straight toward you, "you need to go," your voice rushed and panicky

"He won't kill me, loves you too much," she says, twirling around and kissing you on the cheek.

"Harley," you state at her, "Go. Now."

"Ugh, spoil sport," she winks at Roman before turning and fleeing through the crowd and hopefully out the back door.

"Hey handsome, you just missed Harley," you smile sweetly up at him, "how's your night going?"

"Hows-" he growled yanking you up to your feet by your hair, his glove slicing into your skin, "how's my fucking night going?" His voice deep and dark in your ear.

"I was having a good time, but then Harley had to go," you lie, "need someone else to keep me entertained now," you purr, nuzzling your face into his chest.

"Where did she go?" He pulls you in front of him, holding your wrist to his mouth as he bites down on the back of your wrist, "tell me kitten,"

You bite down on your lip, your eyes looking back lustfully at him. "What's in it for me?" You ask, pressing the silk of your short dress into his front, your hand clinging to his lapel.

"How bout a dance?"

"Can we dance first?"

He points to the DJ, guiding you to the dancefloor, his hands possessively on your ass while he grinds you into him. They snake up your sides lifting your arms above your head, he spins you. Bring your arms down as your back rests against his front and your arms are wrapped around you. Fuck, he tricked you! His teeth bite harshly into your neck, his cock grinding into your ass while your arms remain useless in his hold.

"Where's Quinn?" He growled, licking up your neck and sticking his tongue in your ear.

"Who?" You said your mind swirling as he rocked behind you.

"Where is she?" His arm stays holding yours tight while the other grazes up your thigh. You can feel all the eyes of the club on you, everyone watching and waiting to see what's going to happen next.

"She- she-" you pant, he spins you again, his hand wraps on your throat making you look at him in the eyes, but all you can see is 50 pairs of eyes behind him, all of them staring at you.

"Answer me kitten, or I'll have to remind all these nice people who you belong to." Roman's hand slides under your necklace, a soft, black velvet choker, his fingers flicking at the little golden R hanging from the front.

"I don't know," you smirk up at him, "she could be halfway to Star City by now." he tugs on the back of your necklace, forcing your head into his chest. He tilts your head up with his thumb, your lustful eyes meet his, biting down on your lip as a growl escapes his lips.

"That the way you want it?" He raises an eyebrow at you and you give him a small nod that only he would be able to see, "you little whore," he slaps you, "thinking anyone can touch you." he shouts loud enough for the everyone to hear.

'No," you pretend to quiver, fear in your eyes for your audience. "Let go of me, I'm sorry "you cry, trying to squirm from his embrace.

"You will be sorry," he sneers at you throwing you into a nearby table, his hands pinning yours above your neck, his crotch grinding into yours, his body covering most of you on the table, "you fuckin whore, think anyone can touch you?" He spits on you, most of it going on your face. You resist the urge to swipe your tongue over it and collect it in your mouth. He see's it though, pursing your lips together between his soft gloved fingers, he spits right in between your lips, "Lick it up whore," he commands you, "Get that fuckin' bitches taste off you," you dart your tongue out eager to swipe his taste into your mouth.

"No, no Roman I'm sorry," you plead, arousal shooting up through your pussy.

"Think anyone can pet my kitten the way I do?"

"It was a mistake," your voice pleading with him, "She didn't mean anything by it,'

"No more excuses slut," he slaps you, dragging you so your ass is almost hanging off the table.

A sound echoed from around you and you could hear the collective arousal from your onlookers. Your eyes dart around the room, they're all looking. Waiting eagerly for Roman to take you. Nudging your nose into his, you blink 3 times at him. You didn't have a safe word exactly, because usually you were so fucked out you had no words.

Roman leaned forward, his face cupping yours in aggressively. His hair falling to a curtain between you and the crowd he kissed you sweetly on the nose. His sign that he understood, before pulling back and yanking you to your feet.

"On the table whore," he said, slapping you on the ass, your legs are shaky and your dress rides up as you climb atop, your hands gripping the pole for stability. He stood up onto the booth taking your wrists and securing them behind your back with your fancy cuff bracelets he had made for you. His hand coming around to wrap around your waist, the other grips your throat and dings your head into the pole, his firm hold on your neck forcing you to look at the crowd, "Your mine kitten," he sneered, pulling a knife from somewhere, the cold steel gliding along your arm, stopping just before it reached your strap when he moved from you.

Jumping down and glaring at the crowd, "this isn't a fucking peep show," he growled at them, "GET OUT!" he shouted, throwing the knife into the crowd, "OUT!" He commanded, glaring at them until every single person had left the club. You could feel your arousal drip down your legs, fuck you loved it when he used his power to clear a room. You began to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Your movements halting the moment he turns and his eyes stare straight at your mess of a pussy.

Your eyes drink him in as he strutted over to you, his blue eyes hungry as he watched you squirming on the pole. You pull at your restraints, your ass parting and rubbing along the pole, the cool steel sending chills through your body. Good the idea of everyone watching turned you on but the practice was another thing.

"Now kitten," he said, twirling a knife in his hand, "about Miss Quinn," the knife sliced through your dress splitting it down the middle. The cold steel caressing your torso and knicks into your collar bones, two tiny cuts left in their wake. You moan when he presses his mouth over the wounds, licking your blood from your body.

"Hey, that was expensive," you protest your voice breathless and your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

"I know, I bought it," he says, the knife traveling up to your throat pressing into you. Before gliding down to your bra band. The black and gold lace splitting as he tore through it, gliding it back until it met the cuffs at your wrists. His lips graze along your collarbone bone, while the knife slices through your panties. The metal makes a small cut into your thigh and you feel your pussy clench. Fuck, he was good at this,

"Tell me where she is," he says, his fingers grinding into your now drenched pussy, his lips sucking on your thigh, "oh kitten," he cooed venomously, "this for me?"

"Yes Daddy," you purr pushing back into him

"Not for Quinn?" He bit down on your leg, his tongue lathing over the teeth marks and tiny cuts.

"You, only you," you close your eyes relishing at how the leather of his gloves feels against your pussy.

"Kitten," he growls, delving his face into your pussy, his tongue parting your lips, his hand holding onto your ass to grind your face into him while he stands beneath you.

"Fuck, get down here," he pulls your feet from under you, your ass slamming into his hands. The leather gets caught between you and the table as he drags you to the edge, your arms go taut around the pole.

"Fuck kitten," he says undoing is pants in a rush and pulling his cock put. Fuck you loved it when he fucked you while he was dressed, you lifted your hips hoping to pull him into you, "Daddy's little whore aren't you," he said pressing your hips back into the table, his cock gliding through your folds. "Tell me where she is," he commanded, "or you wont get your treats,"

"Fuck, please fuck me Daddy," you cried your hips twitching as your tried to move, but he was so much stronger than you.

" Tell me," he nudged his thick head against your clit, sending shivers all over, "tell me or you won't come for a month,"

"Fuck, she's-" you dug through your head for a plausible lie, but with your mind swirling there was only one name that kept popping up, "Flag." You pant, your body desperately jerking beneath him, "she went to hide with Flag,"

"Good girl," he said, spearing his cock into you, filling you up and stretching you out, "that wasn't so hard was it. Not like this is going to be," With his firm grip on your hips and his mouth devouring yours he pounded into you. His punishing pace lifting you off the table as his course hair brushed against your clit, "fuck kitten your so tight, I can feel you pulsing around me."

His cock throbs inside you, grinding against your precious spot, he grabs your legs throwing them over his elbows, pressing deeper into you "fuck! Daddy-" you scream, his teasing had you so worked up that it sent you over the edge much sooner than expected. Your legs shaking and your mind going blank, until a sharp sting on your cheek brings you from your reverie.

"Did I tell you you could cum?" He sneers down at you holding your face tight in his fingers.

"I-" you pant "I couldn't help it, you're fuckin me so good, Daddy,"

"Going to have to do it again now kitten, Daddy wants you to come with him," your overstimulated pussy still pulsating around his thick cock. "You're going to be a good girl and cum when I say," he tells you, lifting you back as he climbs onto the table to engulf you in him. He surrounded you, your legs wrapping around his waist and his hand still holding your face, while the other held onto your ass.

"Ye-" you moan, feeling a second wave bubbling inside you.

"Such a good girl with my cock deep inside you aren't you kitten," he moaned, his pace faltering as he came close to his own release.

"Close," you whimper, your eyes locking with his beautiful feral blue ones. He snarled back at you biting down on your lip and drawing blood, licking at it. His tongue swirling the blood into your mouth.

"Cum on me then , be a good girl and cum with Daddy," his deep voice moaning into your mouth, his hand tightening around your throat as he ground into you. You felt his cock throb in your pussy and his cock sputtering in your pulsating walls loading you full of his hot Daddy juice. The warmth hurtling you over, you bit down on his lip hoping to stifle your cries.

Flicking your fingers over your cuffs, you release your hands bringing them around him to hold him close to you. Your hands travel along the smooth Egyptian cotton of his shirt. Your breath heavy and Romans face buried in your breasts as he caught his own.

"Fuckin hell kitten," he says looking up at you, "you're gunna kill me. You really need to be friends with her?"

"I like her, she's fun," you say, patting down gently on his hair "most people in this city are boring,"

"I'm not boring," he says pulling back in offence, his face contorting back to frustration.

"Not you baby," you coo cupping his face and bring him into a kiss.

"You know where she is?" He asks and you nodd, "her apartment?" He confirms, and you nod again. "Maybe she needs a lesson on who you belong to,"

"Hmm.. and how are you gunna do that?" You ask stroking his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

"Show her who makes you scream like that,"

"Oh I'm sure she'd be real threatened by a porno," you snip back.

"She will be and you're going to play along," he stands taking your hand to help you up

"Oh am I?" You ask leaning into him, your shaking legs causing you to fall into his chest. He grips you by the ass hoisting you around his waist.

"Yes," he nudges your nose with his lips "because otherwise I'll just kill her."

"You wouldn't," you protest, kissing along his jawline as he begins to walk you upstairs.

"Those fuckin lips of hers touch you again and I will," he slaps your ass, jolting your ass up and grinding you into his shirt, "maybe you need another reminder of you belong to kitten,"

"Maybe I do,"

#roman sionis x reader #fem reader x roman sionis #roman sionis smut #roman sionis x you #roman sionis imagine #black mask x reader #black mask x you #fem reader x black mask #roman sionis #black mask #black mask reader insert

[mlmxreader]

Who’s Your Daddy? | Roman Sionis (🍋)

request; "Hi Jack!!

I was wondering if you could write sth for the prompt "You like it when Daddy touches you like this?" with daddy!Roman Sionis and male!reader, please? I would be forever grateful, thank you in advance!

Also:

I love love love your writing, I know I said it before, but it's so amazing and I love every single thing you put out! I've never sent a writing request to anyone before,,, so this is exciting, ngl! Take care and cheers, mate! 💚" // @ronaldrx​ 

summary; Roman shows off just how Daddy he can be.

notes; male!reader, v much lemon (handjobs, Daddy kink)

You had been acting up all day, distracting Roman from his work, listening to songs that you knew gave him ideas - right now, it was the cover of Nine Inch Nails’ song ‘Closer’ by Asking Alexandria - and wandering around in just a pair of grey jogging bottoms that left very little to the imagination; it was getting more and more distracting the longer he watched you walk around the penthouse, stretching so that he could see your back as you reached up, he could see the way the fabric on your hips rode down slightly, making him bite his lip as he cleared his throat and let out a soft growl to attract your attention. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman asked with a slight snarl, watching as you came over, he slowly raked his eyes over your body, your exposed torso that was covered in bite marks from the previous night. 

Scratching the back of your head, you put on a façade of innocence as you raised a brow. “I’m not doing anything, Daddy.” 

‘Sharp Dressed Man’ by ZZ Top was the next song to play, catching Roman a little off guard as he pulled you onto his lap, clenching his jaw. “You know exactly what you were doing, don’t you?” 

You smirked as you shrugged, looking down to his lips for a moment as you shifted slightly, grinding against him a little as you bit back a harsh sigh. “You’ve been so busy...” 

“I have, haven’t I?” He mused, letting one hand rest on the waistband of your jogging bottoms, tugging at the two front strings so that the knot came loose. “I’ve neglected my poor (y/n)...” 

You could feel your cock getting hard as he ghosted a finger along the skin just above your waistband, and when he gently rolled your hips, you couldn’t help but to seethe. “Daddy, please... please, fucking touch me, please.” 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Roman held your gaze as he reached into your jogging bottoms, his fingers wrapping around your cock as he slowly started to pump it in his fist, causing you to lean forward and grip his shoulders so that you didn’t fall off of his lip. 

“You like this?” He teased. “You like it when Daddy touches you like this? When he plays with your cock?” 

“Yes,” you whispered, rocking your hips into his hand as he continued to slowly, painfully, move his hand up and down your cock, agonizing. “Please, Daddy, don’t tease me...” 

Smirking, almost laughing at how needy you were, Roman picked up the pace, working your cock faster, making sure to hold you at your lower back as you bucked into him, he pressed his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin each time you moaned his name and begged for more; he would kiss each mark after it was made, licking at the spots where he definitely broke the skin with a particularly hard bite, but as you started to get weaker and weaker, as you started to get closer and closer, Roman could feel himself hardening, the friction from your bucking your hips in synchronicity with his hand was enough to do that, but watching you shudder and moan as you came for him, calling out his name and desperately fucking his hand, was almost enough to make him cum alone. 

Pulling his hand out from your jogging bottoms, Roman looked smug as he sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting down to his hard cock as he raised a brow; when you followed his hungry gaze, it was easy to tell that you were getting eager yourself, and it made him groan softly when you licked your lips. “How would you like to suck Daddy off, hmm?” 

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #male!reader #male!reader insert #x male!reader #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x yn #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis one shot #roman sionis oneshot #roman sionis #black mask x reader #black mask x you #black mask x y/n #black mask x yn #black mask oneshot #black mask one shot #black mask imagine #black mask #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor #mlem writes

[internalsealpanic]

All That Glitters

Summary: Pandora’s box is a black box covered in silk and embossed with the initials R.S.

a/n: So uh this work is a follow up to my fic Better Die than Doubt but it can be read as a stand alone. This thing resulted from the combined might of  @knightfall05x,  @lucy-roo​, and my thirst. I said the follow up to that fic would be fluffy. The chronological follow up will come out at some point. I  just have a single braincell and it decided it wanted to write more Black Mask being an absolute bastard. Thanks to those two hoes for enabling and proof reading. See you both in hell

warnings:  This is smut. I was being haunted. This work contains noncon, past noncon, violence, Roman being an asshole, daddy kink, size kink, strength kink (if you squint ), yandere themes, stalking, exhibitionism, a dude who cannot take no for  an answer and choking.  

masterlist

“Hey Jay,” You chirp into the phone, maneuvering it over your shoulder carefully so you wouldn't drop it while you held your soda can at an arm's length away from you hoping it wouldn’t explode on you when you attempt to open it. 

 “Hey, sweet-” You blow out a raspberry halting the correction in its tracks. You can practically picture Jason’s mouth swerve into an odd shape caught between proceeding with his correction or backtracking.  He chose neither. You hear him swear viciously. You snort making him huff. 

 “What’s up, asshat?” He asks, endearingly. You can pretty much hear him rolling his eyes from this side of the world. You frown hearing how winded he sounded. 

 “Jay, if this is a bad time, I can-”

 “You’re fine it’s just a little-”

 “JAYBIRD, A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE”

 “Roy sounds like he needs help. I can call back later.”

 “Roy can handle himself.”

 “Thanks for the confidence, Jaybird, but I think I’d prefer if you kept shooting straight.”

 You snort feeling warmth build up in your chest despite the chilly weather. You chirp delighted when you open the can and it doesn’t explode. You hear Jason chuckle. The smart remark he had on the edge of his tongue dies on his lips when your breath hitches audibly at the sound of his gun firing. Jason makes a noise, the kind you use to prompt someone to tell you if they’re ok without having to ask. You swallow and nod and curse remembering he can’t see you. You blow out a breath, making sure it comes out steady. 

 “Y/n...”

 “I’m-” You wanted to say fine but you knew the word fine was wholly inappropriate and untrue for this situation. “I’m gonna survive. I promise.” 

 Jason doesn’t make a sound of agreement or disagreement. He simply acknowledges it. You silently thank him for the neutrality. 

 “JAYBIRD”

 “SHUT UP, HARPER”

 You hear Kory sigh in exasperation somewhere in the distance.  In the background, you hear a shriek which you assume is from Jason. Then the line cuts out. 

You try to redial. 

 Nothing. 

 You try again.

 Nothing. 

 A laugh rips out of your chest. You cry out in pain, the fizzy drink rushing up your nose. You wince and curse and settle on blaming Jason.  You suspect they somehow broke the phone. You wouldn’t be too surprised by that outcome. You sigh but there was no point in complaining about it. You might as well finish your lunch in peace. 

   You chew on your cheek as you walk back to your cubicle, everyone’s eyes are on you. You feel your breathing pick up a fraction of a second faster. 

 One

 Two

 .

.

.

.

 Two

 Fuck

 You dig your nails into your palm. Your footfalls become heavier and a little louder even against the white noise around you. You slowdown and shake your head. You haven’t had an attack at work so far and you aren’t about to start now. You inhale deeply, letting your chest expand as you run through the things Dinah taught you.  

 Take stock of the situation around you. 

 The world around you was buzzing with life-shuffling papers, ringing phones, humming of machines, and blips of voices here and there. The room is bright and clean under the light of sterile fluorescent lights. You take in all the voices around you. You’re not alone. The knot building in your shoulders loosens. You continue. 

 Take stock of your body. 

 Your body is trembling, the beginnings of a panic attack looming over you. Instead of cursing it, you let it. It was only natural to relapse once in a while. The trauma wasn’t fresh. Not in your opinion, at least. Dinah and, apparently, everyone else had a different opinion. You’re good at being ok but you were human. You let out a  long breath, half-tempted to let your eyes slide shut but you’re afraid of finding yourself in that room again, of seeing him, of feeling him on you. Revulsion spasmed in your body in powerful waves. Sure, you’re a showboat, Jay had said as much, but showing off and causing a scene were two entirely different things and you weren’t entirely sure you could endure the looks of pity from your coworkers every time you came through those doors. 

 Stiffly, you walk towards your cubicle. Your neighbor, Chelsea, smiling conspiratorially at you while your manager glares daggers at you. You raise an eyebrow at Chelsea who waggles her eyebrows in return.   

 “This is how you tell me I got fired?” You sigh, a smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. 

 Chelsea rolls her eyes at you. “Nope, but the boss man did want me to tell you to tell your boyfriend that he really shouldn’t be sending you gifts at work but honestly, I …...” Your brows knit in confusion, cold dread licking at the pit of your stomach. 

 “I don’t have a boyfriend.” You say slowly trying to keep the mounting panic out of your voice. You could hear your blood pulsating in your ears, heart threatening to jump out of your chest. Your feet are itching for you to run outside and call Jason or Dinah or anyone but the stupider part of you- the curious part of you was clawing at your mind to proceed. 

“Y/n, are- are you ok?” You blink and look at the clock. Two minutes. You blacked out for two minutes which, if you were being totally honest, was a huge improvement. 

 “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 “If you say so” She shrugs, her eyes still not pulling away from you.  

 Mechanically, you turn to your desk. Your entire being freezes when your eyes land on the black box sitting on the desk and the large bouquet of red roses sitting next to it.  The box was rectangular, black with silver trimmings embossed on it. Large ‘R.S.’ written in fancy lettering at the bottom right corner of the lid. You wanted to vomit. 

 You draw a breath and flex your fingers. You can feel your teeth digging into your cheeks. 

 “Hey, Chel?”

 “Yeah?”

 “Can I borrow some tissues?” You ask your voice barely above a whisper but still miraculously steady. She frowns at your handing you a couple of tissues. Normally, you keep your vigilante habits out of your civilian life but considering the initials embossed on this obnoxiously expensive-looking box sitting on your desk, you think this level of paranoia is justified. 

 You stop to calculate the odds that the box contained explosives which turns up zero. You sigh but a shiver climbs up your spine when you run through the possibilities of what Roman could have thought of as a gift. 

 “Y/n, what the fuck?” If Chelsea wasn’t watching you before, she was now. You glance at her quickly and give her a weak smile. You swallow the lump forming in your throat. Cautiously, you lift the lid quietly regretting not calculating the possibility of anything toxic being in it. You’re honestly surprised nothing happened. You roll your eyes upon seeing the expensive-looking black silk covering the inside.

Yes, rub your money in my face while you scare me shitless why don’t you, you fucking asshole, you think grumpily peeling the fabric away. 

 Your heart comes to a full stop when you’re met with a pair of lacy lingerie. Your lacy lingerie. Your USED lacy lingerie. You blink trying not to focus on the white stains. You sincerely did not want to think about that. Moving them aside you find a bloody shirt, the sound of its shifting fabric making gooseflesh spread all over your body. 

 You recognize it. You didn’t want to, but here it was. The bloodstains were dry but they were still visible even against the dark fabric of the shirt. Your skin prickles where the scars on your body sit. The knife wounds sting and throb as if freshly cut.  It takes everything in you not to vomit.

  It was probably the single-minded curiosity that kept you going. You maneuver the shirt carefully making sure it makes as little sound as possible.  Underneath it is a collar, simple but clearly expensive leather with the tag R.S. glittering under the sterile lights. Your throat constricts. You tear your gaze away. Your eyes sting. Next to it was a stack of photos. The top photo showed you with your, shirt torn exposing your breasts. Someone was inside you, gripping your hips. You gag.  You reign your mind in. You flip the stack over and gather your breath. Your heart stops again when you see Roman’s familiar handwriting on the back of a photo.   

 “Miss me?”

The drive back to your apartment was a blur consisting of what was most likely several severe traffic violations but you needed- you need to get out of town as quickly as possible. The odds of Roman himself showing up to your little town was low, very low. Not that you’ve actually calculated it. You don’t need to. The man walks around like his feet bless every surface they touch. The man has a loaded god complex the size of Russia to put it generously. Fetching you was simply beneath him. He had henchmen for a reason after all. 

 You wave to your landlady and her husband amiably as you walk past them keeping the nervous thrum out of your movement. Your landlady returns the gesture, elbowing her sneering husband. You know what he thinks of you and your habits. Take a few guys home with you and suddenly you’re a slut. Your promiscuity was none of his fucking business. Your body was yours to do with, to give, and to take back. It was yours. It’s yours, you assure yourself but the feeling of your body and mind hanging loosely off of each other feels painfully vivid at the moment. 

 You shake your head. This wasn’t the best time to sort out your hang-ups.  

 You press your ear to your apartment door then remembered just how thick it was and remembered that you didn’t exactly have super hearing. You sigh. What you would give to be Supes right about now. You enter the apartment careful not to make your steps audible. That, however, was rendered moot by the two very large and blocky men standing in your living room. You exhale both in frustration and relief. If Roman Fucking Sionis thinks he can scare you with two meatheads, he was clearly insulting you. Well, at least, he didn’t hire anyone actually competent considering all your gear was in a duffle bag tucked neatly away under your bed. Yanno, just for this sort of eventuality. Now that you think about it. You really should have just kept it in your car but small-town crime seems to have softened you. 

 You smile letting the irritation mold you into something sharp and venomous. You throw the box at one of the henchmen goading them to attack you. Its contents scattering all over the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care that some of the photos land right side up. 

 “Tell your chicken shit of a boss to come scare me himself,” You laugh, manic relief flooding through you. You feel like you’re going mad but you don’t care. It’s so much more feasible to deal with these men than it is to have to even think about Roman. “He doesn’t even have the balls to-”

 “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Sweetheart.” comes a gravelly voice from the bedroom. Your stomach drops. Roman strides out of your bedroom adjusting the cuff link of his obnoxiously expensive suit.  He looks down to the photos and gifts scattered on the ground, frowning he bends down to pick up the collar, dusting it off and stuffing it in his pocket. 

 Your fight or flight response freezes. You back into the door, the material feeling too solid for the moment. You inhale sharply, only managing short shallow breaths as Roman slowly closes the distance between you. His footfalls loud, heavy, and deliberately casual making your blood thrum. 

 No. No. No. 

 Your eyes flicker wildly around the room looking for any weapon within reach, your mind running through the numbers, the probabilities melding together into incoherent blotches of red in the back of your skull. Roman slams his large hands on either side of your head. The impact makes the door creak. You can’t stop yourself from flinching visibly, surprise and fear carving themselves on to your face. Roman barks out a derisive laugh as he trails a leather-clad finger down your chin, your throat, then to your cleavage. The contact against your bare skin makes you bristle. 

 “This here?” He emphasizes, his fingers playing with the top button of your shirt popping it carelessly revealing your baby pink, lace bra hidden beneath. “This is a little low cut for the office, isn’t it, princess?”  

 Annoyance overwhelms your sense of self-preservation. “I’m not about to take fashion advice from a guy who looks like he watches Scar Face daily.” You snipe, teeth bared.  Roman hums the undercurrent of rage filling the air. Your ribs ache, remembering an old injury. Your mouth slams shut cutting off any other snide remarks. 

 “You wear these clothes to wind me up, don’t you?” Roman drawls, his leather-clad fingers tracing up the expanse of your thigh exposed by the slit of your skirt, bunching up the skirt and playing with the waistband of your thong as he does so. His thumbs pressing circles against your inner thigh, you can’t help but quiver under his touch. “Oh the fun hasn’t even started yet...just wait”, he bites your ear lobe and tugs it between his teeth. He pulls back and glares at you. “Do you want to know how I found you in this dead-end town, princess?” He asks tilting your chin with his gloved hand. You shake your head not really interested at the moment. You’re too distracted by how flush your body was getting as he presses you further into the door with his bulk. You note with disgust the arousal suffusing through your limbs. 

 “You were all over the news, sweetheart,” You’re trying to remember what he could possibly be talking about. He leans in closer, leather-clad hand brushing against his thumb against your bottom lip, your lips parting automatically for him. He places his gloved thumb between your parted lips. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize that goofy smile of yours?”  You shiver lips wrapping around the intruding digit.  Your tongue flicks and swirls around it in a practiced gesture. “Good girl.” Roman hums, a grin spreading across his face while thick shame blankets you. You frown at how familiar the taste of the glove is against your tongue. You push your thoughts away wishing your mind would fall away. 

 “Baby,” He draws his hand away from your lips, wiping the thin string of saliva on your face. His hands glide down the sides of your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize these hips?” His hands grab at your hips roughly, lifting you and pulling them flush against his own. “Baby. I know what’s mine and this time I won’t let you get away from me.” He whispers against your neck, voice husky and rough. You swallow feeling his lips brush against your pulse. 

 Roughly, he wedges a thigh between your legs, the friction against your core making you keen. The friction woke something in you and loosened a few other things. Your hips roll desperately against the thick muscle of his thighs. Roman grins against your neck,  loosening his grip on your hips and letting you fuck yourself on his thigh. You will yourself to stop but the heat twisting in your gut is too much. You hate yourself. You well and truly hate yourself. Your cheeks warm, breath coming out in pants. 

 Roman places a kiss on your collarbone, teeth grazing your sensitive flesh. Your tongue is caught between your teeth to hold back a moan but the shiver spreading throughout your body says it too loudly. Roman chuckles, vibrations deep within his chest making you weak. Roman licks a stripe up your neck, planting kisses and hickeys along your jaw. “God, you taste sweet, princess.” He murmurs hot against your neck, the smirk dripping from his voice. It feels like acid against your skin. 

 He guides your pliant arms to loop around his shoulders. You obey soundlessly, tipping your head back giving him room to ravish your neck. He does with unbridled enthusiasm. You feel trapped in your own body. You don’t want this. You want to push him away but the fear coursing through you leaves you a passenger in your own body. Your breath hitches with each bite and kiss. 

 “Mine.” He rumbles resolutely, sliding the cloth of your top placing a bite on your shoulder. It stings without even looking, you know it’s deep. 

 “No” You whisper, low and unsure. 

 “No?” He challenges pulling away from your shoulder. 

 “No” You echo voice frustratingly unsteady. He sneers down at you, smile condescending. A biting rebellious part of you demands that you snarl and spit something brisque and witty at him but it’s pushed down by something viscous filling your chest. How are you drowning and why are you not dead yet?

 Just let it pass, your mind whispers to itself. Just let him get his fill and he’ll be on his way. You don’t even have to get hurt. You sincerely want to believe this. You just want this to not happen. The thought of it summons a wave of nausea deep within you. Tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You blink rapidly chasing them away. He likes it when you cry. 

 “Baby, you can’t tell me you don’t want this,” He emphasizes, pressing his thigh against your sopping pussy. The pressure makes you whine.  “Not when you’re being all cute and fucking yourself on my thigh like the dirty slut you are.”

 No. No. No.

 Rat-tat. 

 You will your hips to stop their movement but they’re too lost in their momentum. Your eyes flicker to Roman’s men, large eyes pleading. They stand stiffly doing their best to ignore you. They’re doing a damn fine job of it. 

 “Oh they won’t do anything, they’re here to watch,” Roman whispers hotly against your ear.  Your eyes flicker to them again. Your breath catching when your eyes meet one of theirs, seeing not an ounce of pity. You shove the bile rising in your throat and the quirk on their lips deep somewhere else, somewhere away from you.   

 You try to squirm away but Roman’s arm presses into your windpipe pinning you in place. You thrash and kick and hiss but your head feels light. You hear fabric shift and you still. The sound of the zipper is too loud and too real.  

Roman takes your lips in a forceful kiss making you gasp. His tongue forces its way into your mouth.  He releases your neck. You feel his fingers trail up the slits of your skirt. You try to focus on them rather than what’s pressing stiffly against your inner thigh. The fabric of your skirt bunch up by your hips. You feel your panties getting pushed aside by large fingers. You whimper again, clawing at the expensive fabric of Roman’s suit. “Please don’t do this.” You plead breathily against his ear. 

 He laughs, voice gravelly and harsh. Without further warning or preparation or ceremony, Roman shoves himself inside your warmth, pushing you further into the door. You gasp, the burning stretch making your body tremble all over. He bottomed out with a loud groan. You wanted to cover your ears or have your mind fall out of your reach but here it was painfully present along with your frozen body. He’s loud, groaning and panting as he fucks into you. He thrusts into you with wild abandon, hips clashing against each other with bruising intensity. You can feel his cock dragging in and out of you, hitting every spot violently. He wants this to hurt. You hope it would too. 

 Your cheeks burn with how your walls spasm around his cock. You want to push him away, to take him out of you but it feels so good. You try to smother the lewd sounds you make into his shirt.  Roman’s hands squeeze tightly around your waist in warning. “Yeah, that's it, baby. Let daddy know how much you want this.” You don’t protest. Instead, you let your mouth hang open and let the lewd mewls and keens tumble out. He drills into you more violently seemingly spurred on by your sounds. 

 You come with a whimper. You want to bury yourself in a hole. He comes not long after still fucking into you as he does, making sure your pussy takes all of his cum.  

 He pulls out of you, the slick sound of it absolutely sinful. Your body is slack against the door, too drained to hold itself up.  Roman pulls back, grinning down at you and whistling appreciatively as he admires his work. “Let’s dress you back up, sweetheart.” Roman coos locking something around your neck.  You don’t need to look down to know what he’s put there. The cool metal of the R.S. hanging off the collar presses stark against your hot sensitive skin.

 “You look sooo much better like this,” Blearily you look past him. Your duffle bag is already in the arms of one of his men. He grabs your face roughly making you look him in the eyes. “All mine- just as you should be.” 

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Thanks for reading! I swear I will do more fluff in the near future. I just needed this out of my system. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere blackmask #yandere dc #yandere roman sionis #reader insert #dc reader insert #warning: smut #dc smut #black mask x reader #roman sionis x reader #yandere roman sionis x reader #my writing

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Always Have

by darlingireadit Bruce Wayne is your childhood best friend, Roman Sionis is your childhood sweetheart. You've been getting in between their fights for as long you can remember. Words: 986, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Black Mask Oneshots Fandoms: DCU, Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Roman Sionis, Bruce Wayne, Reader Relationships: Roman Sionis/Reader, Roman Sionis/You, Roman Sionis & Reader, Bruce Wayne/Reader, Bruce Wayne/You, Bruce Wayne & Reader, Bruce Wayne & You, Roman Sionis/Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Romance, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert via https://ift.tt/YWl48tn

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

[danielsharmanswife]

LETTERS SERIES MASTERLIST

2/1/2021

1st Month -> Catcher Block x Fem! reader

• A Barbara Novak's fan

• Oh..you actually brought a book

• Tacky Glasses

2nd Month -> Mark Renton x Fem! reader

• A warm bath and a sandwich

#fem! reader #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor characters x reader #catcher block #obi wan kenobi #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis #alex law x reader #alex law imagine