A/N smut smut smut alert and some potentially triggering sexual situations. Also the gif is clearly not emma, but use you imagination guys
"Happy New Year!" Emma hears someone shout as soon as she opens the door. She has no idea what direction it came from or who shouted it. She had come to the party alone and unsure which, if any, of her friends, would be there. She knows Scotty is throwing a competing party at his place, so it's hit or miss on who's where.
She remembers back freshman, or sophomore year, when she would come to these parties there were always girls like her there. Girls who show up alone only to leave with someone. Of course, this is her first time truly showing up alone, but she knows she's no different. The only thing separating her from them was that she still got ready to go out. At some point, those girls stopped trying and wore sweat pants an put their hair in loose buns.
Emma still takes her time doing her make-up and her hair. After last times torturous trek through town from Scotty's, she decides to dress somewhat appropriately for the weather, a plaid wool skirt instead of a polyester one. It's still cold on her walk over, but this house is only about 15 minutes away so it's bearable. Plus, she reasons, it's going to be hot inside.
Over the years, she had become a pro at showing up at the right time. Not too early, not too late, right as it's really getting going. She's handed a jello shot from a stranger and shoots it back trying to not gag on the texture. The rule of "never take a drink from a stranger' was thrown out the window a long time ago and she accepts the first solo cup passed to her.
She's never been a dancer, but after too many sugary drinks she lets herself be dragged to the middle of a sweaty group of teenagers by a guy she remembers from gym class last year. He holds her hips and pulls her a bit too closely to him. She manages to lose him in the crowd and is pulled away by someone else. She gets too hot and dizzy and pushes her way out and to the kitchen. She goes straight for the fridge, filling her cup up with water and downing it, then repeating.
A group of freshmen stand in the corner staring at her wide-eyed. Drunk, and just pissed off enough, she gives them a harsh wave. They all look away quickly but one of them approaches her. She's pretty sure she used to be friends with the weird writer girl. Her name was Allison? Anna? No that's not it- it's something with an A though.
"Hey," she smiles at Emma. Emma makes no motion to move. The girl smiles again hoping for some reply. "I'm Ashley," ah Ashley, that was it. Emma raises her eyebrows wanting the girl to get to the point. "I wanted to know if you'd introduce me to Roman. I know you're friends, and I think he's really cute."
"You're a little bold thing, aren't you?" She jokes. Ashley blushes and lets out a little laugh. "I'll help you out."
"Really?" She bounces on her feet, giddy.
"Yeah, here's a piece of advice," Emma leans in, face growing cold again. "You should go fuck yourself and leave me the fuck alone before I kick your ass." Ashley's eyes bulge open and she quickly turns away. She returns to her group who all look over at Emma again.
She ignores them and makes her way to the counter that's overflowing with liquor. She downs three or four shots (it might be five, but who's counting?) of tequila. When she tries to walk away she can feel her stomach-turning. She spins around just quickly enough to throw up in the sink. She knows people are watching her, but her ears are ringing and she can't hear any of them. She cups a bit of water in her hand to rinse her mouth out before grabbing her solo cup and leaning back to catch her breath.
Even with her eyes closed, when Emma hears the sound of familiar giggles and she knows what it means. She knows the girls in the corner were swooning and shying away from their dream boy: actual human disaster Roman Godfrey. She tries to stand up to leave the room before he sees her. It's too late. He's already approaching her.
Roman hadn't gone out with the intention of finding her. He didn't even come here first. He had gone to Scotty's and that's where he heard about the little altercation they had at the last party. He has to admit, it's pretty funny. Drunk and sexually frustrated, he makes up his mind as soon as her name is mentioned.
She takes a step forward before falling back to the counter. He continues approaching her, not acknowledging the people who try to say hi to him. This is the longest they had ever gone without seeing each other and the time shows. His hair is grown out further than she's seen it since he tried to go through a skater phase in the 7th grade. When he stops in front of her he barely looks at her.
"We should fuck again!" He has to yell at her ear over the loud music. She stays stone-faced for a moment telling herself 'nope, not doing this again,' before proceeding to do the exact same thing again. She follows behind him, trying not to fall. In her mind, watching him move through the crowd is like the red sea parting.
He notices her struggling to walk straight and grabs her waist to keep her moving. She barely makes it up the stairs without him picking her up. He opens a door without knocking. The bright light stings and she has to squint and look away. "Get out," Roman says to the boys doing lines off the counter. With no hesitation, they scurry from the bathroom leaving their coke behind. Roman puts a bit on the back of his hand and snorts it. His face crinkles and his lips curl into a shape of disgust. "That's shit."
Emma leans back against the door trying to not fall. He notices and helps her up onto the counter. Even in her drunken state, she can still find the humor in the night replaying itself even down to the specifics. She can hear him moving and opening up a cabinet. "Open up."
"Huh?" She forces her eyes open. He's standing between her legs with a bottle of mouth wash. "Oh," she nods and opens her mouth.
"Good girl," he says in the most soothing voice he can muster. He brushes her hair out from her face. "Gargle." She follows his order before leaning to her side to spit it in the sink. "Good girl," he repeats. "Can you do something else for me?" She nods. He digs around in his pocket until he finds what he's looking for. She watches him put a little bit of the white powder on the back of his hand. "Here," he holds it out to her.
She feels a little more awake as soon as she takes the hit. He offers her a bit more before she feels she's at an okay place. "You with me again?" He asks and she nods. "What's in this?" Roman picks up the cup and sniffs it.
"I don't know." He drinks it anyway. When he's done she can see in his face how strong it was
"Coconut rum," he looks down the cup again before downing it.
"Good to know," she slurs.
"I was serious earlier," he puts his hands on her thighs.
"I know." She raises her eyebrows waiting on him. It doesn't take much waiting.
She lets him move her how he wants, and he wants her bent over the counter with his hands moving up her skirt. She tries to push herself up to kiss him but slaps her ass so hard the sound cuts through the muffled noises from the party below. Normally, Emma would be pissed if anyone even so much as mentioned smacking her ass, but at this moment she lets out a small giggle.
"I just want you to know," he leans down placing his right cheek on her left. He looks at her through the mirror. "I would never," he speaks slowly building up her anxiety, "give you shitty coke." She just laughs at him. "You coulda been my coke whore."
"I know," she says, eyes following as he stands up straight. It's strange to hear him speak about something that happened before the last time they were in this bathroom together.
His free hand is grazing its way up her skirt again when a loud round of knocks hits the door. Roman scrunches his face in annoyance but tries to ignore the sound. It doesn't go away."What?" He shouts to the person on the other side of the door.
"I need to pee!" A girl yells.
"Fuck off! Find somewhere else!"
"I have to pee!" She yells again and continues knocking. Roman yanks the door open. The girl stands her ground and he gives in.
"Fuck! Fine," he huffs. He grabs Emma by the wrist and pulls her into the next room he can find. Funny enough, it's the same bedroom where he'd taken Gia. He wastes no time, pushing her backward until they both fall onto the bed. He pulls her shirt off over her head, almost ripping it in the process.
"A bra this time?" He plays with the strap. "Disappointing."
"And you're talking more this time," she mocks him. "Disappointing."
"It's barely a bra," he moves down her neck, placing kisses wherever he goes. "I can still see your nipples." He slips the straps off her shoulders once he's made it below her collar bone. She looks down at him and he stares back up at her. He pushes the material just out of the way so he can latch on to one of her nipples. She lets out a small cry, throwing her head back on the pillow.
"You wanted to get fucked tonight, didn't you?" He asks. "That's why you wore this. Take it off." She nods slowly, more to herself than him, and props herself up on her elbows. Maybe she had come to the party looking for a distraction, but this wasn't what she meant. He reaches behind her and unhooks the bra with one hand while the other lingers on her hip. Emma slides it the rest of the way of her arms.
"Are you as drunk as I am?" She asks.
"Would you like me to be?"
Roman bites his bottom lip and watches her carefully as she places the flimsy piece of material on beside them on the bed. He attacks her breasts, sucking at, and grabbing at anything he can. She runs her hands through his hair before pulling him up by it to kiss her. They linger there for a moment, his hand snaking its way up her skirt again.
"Yes," she nods.
"I'll be right back," he grins at her and gives her a peck on the sternum. She lays there, half-naked on the bed, staring up at the ceiling fan. Is it spinning or is it just her? She doesn't have to think too much, Roman rushes back in. "Here," he hands her a bottle of something and sits on the bed. "Pour until you think I'm with you."
Emma crawls to him and sits on her knees. Roman opens his mouth for the bottle. She holds it as he gulps down until he has to push her away. "Jesus fucking Christ," he coughs. "Shit." Emma leans over to kiss the spilled liquor off of his face. He roughly pulls her into his lap and into an even rougher kiss.
She lets go of his hair to try to unbutton his shirt. Roman, apparently, thinks she's not going fast enough and does it himself. When he dives back in she allows her hands to linger along his chest. His hands travel down, unzipping her skirt and watching as she kicks it down to the floor below the bed.
Emma fumbles with the buttons of his jeans for a few seconds before he just does it himself. Somehow he's more graceful at everything he does than her. His pants meet her skirt somewhere in the mess. He grabs the back of her head and pulls her in for another kiss. Making his way down her neck, he's sure he left a hickey or two behind. She pulls him back up to her, though, and he bites her lip gently as she plunges a hand into his boxer.
She strokes him gently, mouth opened and forehead pressed against hers. Roman had forgotten how good it felt to be touched. He could cum just from this, but he can't let that happen. He pulls her hand up and holds it down to the bed.
"Are you trying to make me beg?" She shrugs, smiling coyly. "Because you really should know by now that I don't do that." With that, he pushes her back to the bed and makes his way down to his panties. "Quite the opposite actually." With one swift movement, her underwear is thrown to the floor, exposing her to the cold air. She shivers a bit at the excitement and the freedom, but it's all gone once she feels his hand grazing over her.
"Say please," he tells her. "You said it so sweetly last time."
"Please," she breathes out. She anticipates more contact but is stunned when he begins making his way down the bed. It takes her a moment to put the words together, but when she does he's already placing light kisses on her thighs. "No," she shakes her head. "No."
"You sure?" He lays his head down on her thigh. She nods. "Do you really don't want me to or are you embarrassed?"
"Embarrassed of what?"
"I don't know," he shrugs. "I feel like girls are always weird about getting their pussy eaten." She doesn't make any movements. "Like you guys always embarrassed there's something wrong about you. I don't think about that when I'm getting my dick sucked." She burst out laughing at that.
"Jesus Christ."
"What? I'm a fucking feminist," he holds her hips tightly. "Now, let me eat your pussy."
"Wouldn't have pinned you as a giver," she says pulling his head back up. "No."
"Do you not like it?"
"Huh?" She's thrown off by the question.
"Do you not like it when guys go down on you?" She shakes her head no as confidently as possible. "What do they do instead?" He asks. She runs through her brain trying to think of something. She doesn't realize how long she'd been silent until he says "Oh."
"What?"
"Nothing," he shrugs. Roman's an asshole, sure, but he knows when someone is embarrassed. And sometimes when people are embarrassed you don't push things. She was right, he wasn't a giver, but he also wasn't selfish in bed. For a second in time, he feels sympathetic towards her. She'd fucked all these guys, and not a single one of them gave anything back.
But then again that was her choice, he reasons.
Of course, that wasn't the whole truth. Roman, along with the rest of their school, only knew who she had been with, and what those guys said they had done. In truth, she had only blown them. The most undressed she had gotten was her shirt off.
Roman's kinder side gets the best of him as he watches her look around the room uncomfortable. He puts his hands on her knees and strokes them with his thumb. "Let me try, and if you don't like it we can stop." She doesn't move at first, just stares back at him, face red. Then, she nods slowly, seeing some sort of trust in his eyes. She trusts him right now. He moves back down and she flinches away. "Hey, hey," she looks down at him, "relax."
The way she was reacting to him was nice, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. So he stays there, between her legs, building her up until he's sure she's close. He moves upwards, kissing her neck despite her whine from losing the contact. He makes it up to her face, kissing her as he reaches down to align himself. "Condom," he stops the kiss and moves to grab his pants. She doesn't let him go, though, and actually pulls him in closer.
"Don't care." That drives him fucking wild and he slams into her, causing her to jump a bit. Once he gets over the initial excitement of going in bare, he slows down again and reaches between them, other hand holding the back of her head. Emma isn't a short girl, she's a bit above average, so Roman's height wasn't as shocking to her as it was to others. However, right now below him, she feels pathetically small and delicate.
That feeling plus the small circular motions he's making with his thumb pushes her too far. When he dips down to suck at her breast she knows she's done for. She's so quiet Roman has to do a double-take. Her face is flustered and she looks like she could cry. It's not until he feels her clench around him that he's sure of what he's seeing. Watching her fall apart sets off something new in him.
"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks panting, speech slurred.
"Huh?" She's way to preoccupied with coming down from her own high to focus on his.
"I'm gonna cum. Where do you want me to cum?" He has to stop and take a deep breath to hold back.
"Oh," she picks her head up and looks around. She can tell he's struggling to keep it together."Um," she thinks, "wherever."
"Can I cum in you?"
"Okay," she lays her head back down.
"Are on something?" He asks, thrusting slowly again.
"Okay," she nods and pulls him into a kiss. She's tired and overstimulated and wants him to hurry up. "Fuck me." Emma's running a marathon through her brain trying to remember what all the porn women say. He hears her mumbling out vulgarities that don't quite make sense, but he's unsure if they don't actually make sense of if he's just is too drunk to understand them
He's done for.
They lay there catching their breaths. He's sprawled across her and their skin stuck together.
When they make their way back downstairs, it's clear to them that the party has hit its highest point. It's the kind of party you only see in movies, the kind that cops would be called to if they didn't pity the teens so much. Roman looks back at her and smiles as he pulls her by her hand closer to the center of it all.
There's so much happening, and they're both drunk and still riding on the fuck-high. All she can do is smile back and let him drag her in further. Neither had ever seen the other in a situation like this. They always showed up to make an appearance at a party, now here they are fully jumping into the world around them.
Someone hands him a bottle of rum, pats his shoulder, and tells him "happy new year." She keeps taking swigs from the bottle, hoping that if she can get just a little drunker- a little looser- she'll have a good time. A better time.
Because no matter how lost she can get in the moment, the feeling of hurt still lingers in the back of her mind when she looks at him.
Emma has been drunk before, many, many, many times before. Somehow she's made it to the tip of the mountain tonight. She's at that drunk stage where if you close your eyes and think you can feel sober for about 5 seconds, then the world is upside down again. All she can do to battle the feeling is cling tighter to Roman as they drunkenly sway to the music.
Roman feels the girl wrap her arms around his neck. He takes a couple long drinks from the bottle before she takes it back from him. He knows she's teetering very close to the edge of too far, but he doesn't super-duper care. All in all, he just wants to bring her home with him and fuck her senseless. If this is the one person his body will let him fuck he's going to go for it.
He knows he would never do that, of course.
But it's also not his responsibility to take care of the girl. If this is how she wants to spend the night than so be it. Hell- he'll try and stay on her level. At his height, though, it would take a gallon of Everclear to keep him caught up. But he can still try.
They both stand there making out, feeling so out of character, as the crowd counts down. Despite the excitement and loud cheers of the clock striking midnight, some people's attention is still completely drawn to the two teens. Someone in the crowd, or possibly multiple someones, catches the moment on snapchat. Once the moment's over and they notice the eyes around them, Roman takes (basically drags) a stumbling Emma outside.
She tries to take the bottle from his hands but he holds it up above his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no," he teases her as she makes a small jump to grab it. "It's all mine," he opens it and finishes the bottle. There wasn't that much left, but enough for him to regret drinking it all at once.
"Mean," she crosses her arms.
"If you want to see mean, come home with me and I'll show you just how mean I can be," he smirks and grabs her hips. Her cheeks are on fire from the comment in complete contrast to the cold wind. She smiles and shakes her head. "C'mon," he says cupping her cheek with his hand. She shakes her head again.
"Mom-" she starts but realizes it's not worth the wait.
"I'm gonna go get a drink," he tells her, leaving her in the snow-covered porch.
"If you wanted to fuck him yourself you could have just said so," the voice catches in Emma's ear and she makes a 180.
"Huh?" She asks, slowly moving in closer to the girl from earlier. Emma's eyeliner is smudged from sweat.
"I said," the girl moves in. "If you wanted to fuck him yourself you could have just said so. I get it, but you didn't have to be such a cunt about it."
"You really should go back inside," Emma says, "because if I have to look at you for another fucking minute you will start the new year off without teeth. Would you like that?" The girl and her friends chuckle, but they do shuffle away.
After a while Emma assumes that Roman getting a drink was a permanent move, not an "I'll be right back" like she had thought. Emma stands there until she's too cold to handle it and move to make her way back inside. She grabs a bottle of vodka on her way out and drinks straight, hoping to fully evolve into a blackout drunk teen.
Every step on the snow makes a crunching sound that annoyed the absolute shit out of her and she wants to scream into the void about her misery. She can't finish the bottle and throws it into a strangers yard, it shatters loudly on their driveway pavement. She giggles at the sound and continues walking. She's surprised that after all these nights she hasn't been stopped by a cop. They don't normally circle around this part of town, but anybody watching her stumble could tell she was drunk.
She makes her way along the sidewalk in front of the park. Something moving catches the corner of her eye. She turns but nothing's there now. Emma takes a deep breath and continues walking a few steps until something rustles behind her again.
"Oh my god," she breathes out. "Look at you," she bends down to scoop the perpetrator into her arms. It's a little black and white kitten, the smallest kitten she has ever seen. It scratches and wiggles in her arms, but accepts the warmth provided by her body. "Hi," she smiles and strokes her thumb over its head. It falls asleep in her arms.
By the time she's in front of her house, she can't remember making the journey. She fumbles with her keys and finally gets the door unlocked. Like the rest of the night, history once again repeats itself. She goes up to her room and sets the kitten down. It sniffs around her room as she takes off her shoes and clothes and digs out a sleeping pill.
Stripped down to her underwear, she flops back onto her bed, legs hanging off. Her head spins and she closes her eyes. She had forgotten what her mattress felt like, what her comforter smelt like. She had forgotten how good it felt to lay back and relax on something other than her old carpeted floor. She doesn't fully realize where she is until she's reaching to climb under the sheets. There's a harrowing flip in her stomach and she lets them go.
She stays frozen for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. Every marking or scratch made into the white paint is planted in her mind, perfectly patterned out. If she lets her mind wander enough, she can remember the feeling of leather-wrapped tightly around her wrists. She rushes to sit up and run to the other side of the room, but there's a tiny little scratch coming from the comforter. The tiny kitten has clawed its way up to her.
The small fur ball slowly makes it's way closer and closer to her until it rams its head on her nose.
Emma can't sleep, but the kitten has fallen asleep curled up on her chest. She mindlessly rubs her thumb over its head. She stays there, half-way on and half-way off her bed, looking up at her ceiling. They say insanity is doing the same things over and over but expecting different outcomes. Of course, Emma knows that that's not what insanity is, but she can't help but wonder what outcome she was expecting. Whatever it was, it wasn't this.
A/N I didn't drink wine, but I did have like 5 mimosas lmao. Anyways, here's to being a shit smut writer! Hope you all enjoyed my pg-13 sex scene!
Also, I do want to say that I don't condone this behavior. Emma and Roman are equally drunk, but it's still a really grey area of consent and please always be safe.
Every like and comment = one prayer for my student loans