only mine - rommulas x fem!reader
(including - conceal x fem!reader)
synopsis: you caught your toxic boyfriend, roman, cheating. had a heavy moment with ryan in the hotel room and ended up screaming at roman until the fight boiled over into a bruising round of make-up sex. just a classic toxic loop.
warnings: toxic relationship, toxic roman, emotional manipulation, rough sex, light choking, hair pulling, overstimulation, praise/degradation, mark sharing, crying during sex, unfaithfulness (cheating), make-up sex, reader is a little drunk, no aftercare. (lmk if i missed something)
the bass still rattled through the floorboards when you saw him. roman leaned against the vip section railing, that lazy half-smile on his face as he talked to a girl in a see through dress. she laughed at something he said, touched his arm. later his hand found her waist like it belonged there.
you’d been watching for ten minutes. long enough to see him buy her a drink. long enough to see him lean in close enough that his lips brushed her ear. long enough to remember the last time he'd said i love you three days ago, into his phone, distracted, while you sat on the other end of the hotel bed.
the girl disappeared toward the hallway that led to the private rooms. roman followed a minute later, not even looking back.
the glass in your hand was empty.
you didn't remember finishing it.
four times. you'd tried to end it four times.
each time he'd show up at your door with flowers, with excuses, with that particular way he had of pulling you in until your spine forgot how to hold itself straight. “you're the only one. you know i'm fucked up without you. don't do this to us.”
the fifth drink burned going down. then the sixth.
someone's hand touched your elbow. "hey. hey you okay?"
ryan. concern pulling his brows together, his eyes scanning your face. "i'm fine." your voice came out wet.
you hadn't noticed you were crying.
"bullshit." he took the glass from your hand, set it on a passing tray. "come on. let's get you out of here." you let him guide you through the crowd, through the cold lobby, into a taxi, like he'd called it before he even asked.
the city lights smeared past the window. you cried silently, face turned away, and ryan didn't say anything. just sat close enough that his shoulder brushed yours.
the hotel hallway was too bright.
your legs felt unsteady. ryan's arm wrapped around your waist, his hand firm against your hip as he walked you to your door.
"you've got your key?" you fumbled in your clutch. dropped it. he picked it up, slid it into the lock, pushed the door open.
inside, the room was dark except for the city glow through the curtains. your heels hit the carpet. you sank onto the edge of the bed, and ryan crouched in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "look at me." you did. his eyes were soft, nothing like the ones you'd been drowning in for the last year.
"you deserve better than this." his voice was low, careful. “you know that, right? you know he's been doing this for months. not just tonight. months, y/n. i've seen it. the guys have seen it. we all tried to tell him to fucking stop, but he-“
"because i don't know how to leave." the words cracked. "i've tried. i keep trying." ryan's jaw tightened. his thumb traced a slow circle on your knee, and then he was standing, pulling you up with him, his hand sliding to the back of your neck.
he kissed you. it was soft. gentle. his lips tasted like gin and something sweeter, his other hand came up to cup your face like you were something fragile. like you mattered. he kissed you like he had time, like he wasn't rushing toward an ending. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
"you could have better. you could have someone who doesn't make you cry in a hotel bathroom." your hands were shaking. you wanted to say yes. you wanted to let him stay.
"no." the word barely came out.
"i can't. not tonight." he held your gaze for a long moment. then he nodded, stepped back, his hands falling away slowly.
"okay." he moved toward the door. "but i meant it. every word. and when you're ready to hear it again, i'll be here."
the door clicked shut behind him.
you didn't know how long you sat there. minutes. an hour. long enough for the city lights to shift patterns against the ceiling.
roman walked in, smelling like her perfume. he stopped when he saw you on the bed, your eyes red, your makeup ruined.
the question was flat. almost annoyed.
"you're joking." your voice was hoarse. "you actually walked in here and asked me that."
"i didn't do anything." he shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on the chair. "she was just a fan. we were talking."
"she was talking to me, y/n. what, i'm not allowed to have conversations now?"
"i saw you leave with her."
a pause. his eyes flickered that split second of calculation, of looking for an exit. "nothing happened."
"get out." your voice was quiet.
“i mean it this time. get the fuck out."
his expression shifted. the mask dropped. and what was underneath made your stomach clench.
"no." he crossed the room in three strides, grabbed your chin between his thumb and fingers, forced your head up.
"you don't get to do that. you don't get to look at me like i'm the problem. you think i don't see the way ryan looks at you? the way he's always conveniently there?"
"or what?" his grip tightened. "you'll leave? you always say that. you always come back."
his mouth crashed into yours. not like ryan's. not soft. hard and demanding and tasting like someone else's lip gloss, and you should have pushed him away. but your body betrayed you. your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he made a sound against your mouth, low and victorious.
he shoved you backward onto the bed, climbed over you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. his mouth found your throat, teeth scraping, and his hand shoved your dress up your thighs.
"you want to know what i did with her?" he bit down on your collarbone, hard enough to bruise. "nothing. because i was thinking about you the whole time. fuck."
it was a lie. you knew it was a lie. and you didn't care.
he had you on your stomach, your dress bunched around your waist, his hand fisted in your hair. his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints.
“you like this, don't you?" his voice was rough. "you like knowing i'm the only one who can make you feel this way."
your response was a moan, muffled against the sheets.
he pulled your head back by the hair. "say it."
"yes, you're the only one." he drove into you harder, the angle punishing, and you heard yourself cry out, heard the raw edge of it fill the room. his hand slid from your hip to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a reminder.
"look at you." his pace slowed, became deliberate, each thrust drawn out. "so fucking beautiful like this. taking everything i give you. you think conor would know how to handle you? you think he'd know what you need?" you shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks.
"good girl." the praise hit you like a warm blade.
he pulled out suddenly, flipped you onto your back, positioned himself at your mouth.
you did. he pushed past your lips, and your throat clenched around him, and he groaned, his hand cradling the back of your head.
"you can take it. i know you can. you always do."
his hips moved, shallow at first, then deeper, and you forced yourself to relax, to breathe through your nose, to let him take what he wanted. his thighs trembled against your cheeks.
you looked up. his eyes were dark, jaw tight, lips parted. he looked wrecked. he looked like he was falling apart.
"fuck." his voice cracked. "you're so fucking good for me-“
he pulled out, hauled you up by the arms, bent you over the edge of the bed. his hands ran down your sides, possessive.
"my girl." he pushed into you from behind, and the sound you made was almost a sob. "my girl. say it."
he fucked you like he was trying to prove something. like if he went deep enough, hard enough, he could excavate every doubt and fill the space with himself. his hand found your clit, pressed, rubbed in circles that made your vision blur.
"you're gonna come for me."
his fingers worked faster, his thrusts lost their rhythm and the pressure inside you coiled tighter and tighter until you shattered, your cry muffled by the sheets, your body shuddering through it. he followed a second later, his grip bruising, his breath a curse against your spine.
afterward, he collapsed beside you, chest heaving.
the room smelled like sex and sweat and something sour. regret, maybe. or just the absence of the lie.
his hand found yours. interlaced your fingers. "i'm sorry."
you stared at the ceiling. you didn't say anything.
"i mean it." he turned his head to look at you. "i fucked up. again. i know. but i'm not gonna let you go. you know that, right? no matter what you do. you're mine*."
your throat was raw. your body ached and somewhere in your chest, something that had been holding on finally let go.
a/n: i cannot fall asleep
