#Kendall Roy I want you on top of me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mistyorchid · 1 month ago

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Meet-Cute (Ch. 3)

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg.

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care.

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath.

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck.

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter.

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes.

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone.

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance.

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.”

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite.

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud.

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I—” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan��s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

an: I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 15 days ago

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Clandestine. Part Four.

Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

Chapter Synopsis - Death puts everything into perspective.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy!Reader

Warnings - cursing. lots of talk about grief.

Word Count - 3k

Author’s Note - now I might just be the last person on tumblr still writing for stewy, but I am determined to finish this series. let’s ignore the fact it’s been a year since I updated it, shall we? one more part of this to go!! thank you, if you’re still here for my succession stuff <3

Series Masterlist. Main Masterlist. Inbox.

You’re floating around in a daze.

It’s been a week since Connor’s phone call. A week since the formidable Logan Roy died on the floor of his private plane, surrounded by his closest employees. A week since you’ve seen Stewy.

You’ve been crashing in Roman’s guest room, neither of you wanting to be alone. You go to your Dad’s apartment, have meetings with old white men that all look the same, pop into the office every now and again and go home to your brothers. You were barely speaking to Kendall before all of this happening, never mind now. You can’t remember the last time the two of you said more than three words to each other.

You’re sat at Roman’s dinner table when a strange feeling settles in the pit of your stomach. You watch him picking at his salad for a minute before you say anything.

“Have you… spoke to Kendall? Like, over the last few days?”

Roman looks confused by the question, but doesn’t voice it.

“Yeah, here and there. You guys are in a fight, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We were. I guess we still are. I’m just… worried about him. God knows his mental health has been in the gutter recently anyway, but now Dad’s dead, and… I don’t know. It just can’t end well, right?”

“All we can do is keep an eye on him, I guess. He won’t fucking accept it even if we try and help, so.”

“Yeah.”

You move the chicken around on your plate with your fork, neither of you having much of an appetite recently.

“So, you never told me what your fight was about. It all seems like this big ass fucking secret that only Roman doesn’t know about.”

You’re a little taken aback by Romans candour. Usually he’s pretty avoidant, happy to live with the not knowing. He’s done with that, apparently.

“You’re not the only one that doesn’t know, Rome. Ken is the only one that does.”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why? Why does everyone include Kendall in everything and leave me on the fucking sidelines? Why am I always the one who doesn’t get the joke, who doesn’t know the secret?”

“Rome-”

“I know he’s your favourite, but Jesus. You could at least try and include me sometimes.”

“Roman.”

“What?”

“Kendall only ‘knows the secret’ because he… walked in on the secret. Not because I sought him out and told him, or anything like that. I promise.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

With what has happened over the past week, your perspective on almost everything has changed. Keeping your secret is no longer top priority - or priority at all. You’re realising that you don’t care, because it doesn’t matter. Not much really matters.

“I’m in love with Stewy.”

Roman’s silent for a moment, processing.

“Hosseini?”

You can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, Rome. Hosseini. Do you know any other Stewys?”

He shakes his head, still visibly confused.

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“That you’re in love with him.”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah, um… he already knows. We - we’re in love. With each other. We’re dating.”

“You’re dating him?”

“That’s crazier than me being in love with him one sided?”

“Uh, yeah.”

You chuckle, looking at him for a moment before a grin breaks out across his face. He’s always been the most easy going of your brothers, the most understanding. You’ve always felt a comfort in talking to Roman - he’s more open minded than he appears. He’s a surprisingly good listener, even when you think your problems are trivial or stupid.

“For how long?”

“Fuck, I don’t even know. Two years, give or take?”

“Two years?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad? I’m mad impressed, Princess. I didn’t think you’d be able to keep a big secret like that from me for that long.”

“So you don’t hate me?”

You’re suddenly vulnerable, terrified that your big brother is going to think less of you. Your brothers are all you have, all you’ve ever had. The four of you learned to survive with each other, with no help from parents or nannies or any kind of adult. You have nothing if you don’t have your brothers.

“I don’t hate you, dummy. I could never hate you.”

You stand up and make your way over to him, perching on his leg like you used to when you were kids. You wrap your arms around his neck, exhaling when he wraps his around your middle.

“Love you, Rome,” you whisper. “Even if you are a pain in my ass.”

“Yeah, love you too,” he murmurs. “Even if you do keep important secrets from me.”

“I promise I won’t keep anything from you ever again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Promise. No more secrets.”

You pull back but stay sat on his lap, feeling six years old again, taking solace in the presence of your big brother.

“So Kendall… walked in on you?”

“He saw us leaving the gala together and got suspicious. He showed up at Stewy’s apartment the next morning, banging on the door and asking where I was.”

“Oh shit,” he laughs.

“It’s not funny,” you retort, but you’re holding back your giggles as you do it.

“And I’m guessing he didn’t take it well.”

“Not at all. He was cycling between yelling and swearing and then sitting really quietly just… staring into space. Then he got personal, which was expected, but that pissed Stewy off, so the whole thing got awkward again. It was… horrendous.”

“He’s horrible at feelings.”

“Says Mr Communication over here.”

He shoves you off his lap, chuckling when you slide onto the floor. You punch him in the arm as you get up, returning to your original seat. You sit in silence for a moment, neither of you quite sure how to continue.

“What now?”

“I… don’t know, Rome. I just don’t know.”

“I mean, the world hasn’t stopped spinning. Maybe it feels like it has for us, but everyone else has carried on.”

You’re confused by your brother’s sudden wisdom, until it clicks for you.

He’s free.

Sure, he’s grieving. You all are. But he’s lighter. Laughs a little easier. Gives out advice quicker.

He’s free.

You all are.

The shackles your father had placed on all four of you are broken. You are no longer bound to him or Waystar or his insane ideals as to what family should be or do or say.

“I need to get out.”

“What?” Roman asks as he cocks his head, quirking a brow at you in curiosity.

“I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. This… constant cycle of destruction and deception and stabbing people in the back. It won’t stop now that Dad’s dead. It’s the very foundation that his business is built on.”

“So you’re gonna… leave?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna sell my shares and I’m gonna get the fuck out.”

Roman laughs, now, all big and bold and beautiful. You don’t know what’s funny, but you can’t help but laugh with him.

“I am too.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m doing the same.”

“Roman.”

“I’m serious. I don’t know who CEO is gonna be, but it isn’t gonna be me. It’ll be Kendall or Tom or someone completely different, but we all know neither you or I are capable.”

“Jeez. Thanks.”

“You’re telling me you could run the entire Waystar business?”

You roll your eyes, kicking him under the table.

“Obviously I fucking couldn’t. But at least pretend to have a little bit more faith in me.”

Your brother chuckles, leaning back in his chair.

“We’re not built for it, you and me. We’re meant for something different. Something better, Princess.”

You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“What about Kendall?”

“What about him?”

“I feel like we’re… abandoning him.”

Rome looks solemn, suddenly, thinking about your older brother.

“He’ll come around, you know. And he’ll understand. That’s the thing about Kendall - he can’t hold a grudge to save his life. He tries, but he can’t.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, lump in your throat choking any words that try to escape.

“Hey, hey,” Roman soothes as he walks over, standing above you.

He swipes his thumb across your cheekbone, wiping away your sadness.

“He loves you more than anything, you know.”

You shake your head, so your brother doubles down.

“He does. You’ve always been his favourite. He’d do anything for you - anything at all. He’s mad because you and Stewy kept a secret from him, not because you’re together. Trust me.”

“He looked at me that day like he hated me.”

“He couldn’t hate you if he tried. He’s just… emotionally unavailable. Everyone knows this.”

“I miss him,” you whisper, lip trembling. “I miss my brother.”

You’re taken aback by how much you miss Kendall, suddenly. You miss him so much more than you miss Logan, or your Mom.

“Give him time. That’s all he needs. He misses you, I know he does. But you know what he’s like when he feels betrayed. He shuts down and gets all aggressive.”

You look up at Roman, gentle smile making its way onto your face.

“When did you get so smart, huh?”

“I’ve always been smart,” he laughs. “Everyone underestimates me.”

“That they do.”

“Well, not anymore. We’re getting out.”

“We’re getting out,” you repeat, finally allowing yourself to feel happiness at the prospect. “We’re gonna get the fuck out.”

“Talk to Stewy about selling your shares and let me know what he says. The sooner, the better.”

“I will. I’m excited, Rome. The world is our oyster.”

“Me too,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. “We’ll go to the funeral, and then we’ll never have to see any of those assholes ever again.”

“I can’t wait to not have to look at Karl’s stupid fucking face every day.”

Roman keels over laughing, wheezing as he clutches his stomach. You’re crying with laughter too, both of you lighter and freer than you’ve ever been.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“You sure about this, Rome?”

“One hundred percent.”

You hug him tightly as you say goodbye, smiling when he presses a kiss into your hair.

“I’ll let you know what Stewy says tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Princess. Call me if you need anything.”

“You too. Anything.”

He ruffles your hair before sending you on your way, waiting at the front door to watch you go.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

“Stewy? You home?”

You drop your bags by the front door, kicking off your shoes and jacket as you do it. You’re about to yell again when he comes running around the corner, sliding across the wood floors in his socks.

“Baby.”

He breathes it, as if he can’t believe you’re really standing in front of him again.

“Missed you, Hosseini.”

You fly into his arms, burying yourself as deep as you can in his chest. His old, worn t shirt is soft and grey and smells like the love of your life and all of his memories spent at home. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you impossibly closer.

“How are you?” he asks without letting go, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m okay. I’m good, actually. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

Now he pulls away to look at you, confused by the sudden change of heart. When you left to go to Roman’s a week ago, you were a shell of a woman, a little girl without a dad. Now, you’re back, brighter and more alive than ever.

“Yeah.”

You look at him, really look at him, for a moment, before taking a deep breath and saying the words you’ve been dying to say.

“Marry me, Stewy.”

He staggers back as if you’ve hit him, eyes blown wide.

“W-what?”

“Marry me.”

He inhales, exhaling shakily before stepping forward to cradle your face in his hands.

“Aren’t I supposed to be asking you that?”

“Maybe,” you laugh. “But I guess I got there first.”

“Honey, forgive me if I’m a little confused, but… you just came back after being gone for a week because your dad died and now you’re… proposing?”

“Me and Roman are leaving Waystar,” you explain. “We’re selling our shares and getting the fuck out.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Really. The only thing stopping me from leaving years ago was the fear of disappointing my dad, and now he’s gone. So… there’s nothing keeping me there. I wanna do something else. Something for me.”

“Yeah?”

He’s grinning, beaming at you from ear to ear. Light is practically pouring from him, radiating in all directions.

“Yeah,” you half yell, leaning up to press an excited kiss to his lips. “I’m done, Stewy. I’m free.”

He picks you up, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you spin. You shriek with laughter, the world blurring as it whizzes past you. Eventually he puts you down, both of you breathless.

“Life’s too short. I need to start living it.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you so much. More than anything.”

You kiss him tenderly, gentle and sweet and filled with so much adoration.

“So, back to my original question…”

“Wait,” he interrupts, halting your speech. “Let me do this the right way.”

With that, he runs off towards the bedroom, leaving you stood in the hallway as confused as ever. You wait patiently, desperate to be privy to his plans.

When he returns, still in his pyjamas, he kisses you softly before getting down on one knee, ring box in his hand.

“Honey. You are the love of my goddamn life. I bought this ring after we’d been dating for… three months? Call me crazy, but I knew. I just knew. It was always going to be me and you. Always.”

Your hands are shaking, breath caught in your chest as you try to soak in every second of this moment.

“So…. how do you feel about becoming Mrs Hosseini?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”

“Is that a yes?”

“The biggest, most sure yes of my entire life. Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you. Yes.”

He swoops you up into his arms, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. You slip your tongue into his mouth cheekily, tangling your fingers into his hair to pull him closer as he groans.

You finally pull away for air, both of you panting like you’ve just run a marathon. Your eyes well up suddenly, a tear falling without you realising.

“You okay?” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles into your cheekbones.

“I’m so happy,” you whisper. “I feel like today is the first day of the rest of my life.”

“So do I,” he agrees, looking down at you with so much love you it makes your knees buckle. “Baby… if you’re getting out, then I’m getting out.”

“Wait, what?”

“If you want to get out of Waystar, I’m not gonna stay. If you’re washing your hands of it, then I am too.”

“But… your money.”

“Honey, those shares don’t mean shit to me. The only thing that matters is you.”

You look at him intently for a moment, searching for any traces of doubt. All you find is pure adoration.

“Stewy?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna keep that ring in the box forever?”

He throws his head back as he laughs, opening the velvet box to show you what’s inside. He slips it onto your finger with ease, the diamond sparkling perfectly on your hand.

“It’s so beautiful. I’m the luckiest person in the world, Mr Hosseini.”

“I think I have to disagree with you there, Mrs Hosseini.”

“Say it again.”

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“And again.”

He kisses you, mumbling against your lips.

“Mrs Hosseini.”

“Mhmm.”

“My wife. The prettiest girl in the world. Mrs Hosseini.”

You can’t help but grin into his mouth, buzzing with the energy of it all.

“Now, I was about to make dinner before you came home, but we can go out and celebrate if you want?”

You shake your head, snaking your arms around his neck.

“All I want right now is a night in with you - that’s all the celebration I need. Let’s make that pasta you like, and then we can watch old sitcom reruns on the couch.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Stewy slides his hand into yours, his thumb playing with the shiny band of the ring on your finger.

“It’s gonna be like this forever, you know. We get to do this for the rest of our lives.”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted,” you breathe, resting your head on his shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

As the sun sets through the floor to ceiling windows, you and Stewy dance across the kitchen, slipping and sliding across the tiles.

Your heart skips a beat every time your ring catches the light.

Your heart skips a beat every time you look at your fiancé.

Your heart skips a beat every time you realise that you’re not dreaming.

This is your life. And you’ve never been more excited to live it.

@justacaliforniandreamer @616wilsons @shawty-writes-a-little @isuspectitwasthenargles @thinemineours @buckysbae @jolie989 @allcheesemelts @nosebeers

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solestixx · 7 months ago

Text

1- lukas matsson x reader

word count ≈ 6600

warning: smut and mid writing

____

“Ken- you know this isn’t my scene.” Your voice goes quiet, simply just peering at your brother, anxious for his reaction.

He’s been a bit of a pain in the ass lately, the whole family was a pain in your ass lately, but perhaps it was always this way. The Roy family created chaos and unnecessary drama, that was a given. It was something you tried to detach yourself from; the business, the craze, the constant chatter– it all drained you. From the moment you were born, it was as if your family was screaming from all sides whether it be Roman and Shiv fighting over shit all, or your dad blowing up in your faces.

You always knew that you didn’t fit into the puzzle. You were born a little bit too late, grew up with faint glances of your older siblings, and dismissed like the baby you were. Maybe that was the reason you never considered joining Waystar, or perhaps why a place was never offered.

Your dad was your dad, perpetually disappointed in you – while at the same time maintaining that you were his favourite. You all knew it was Shiv, but the very fact he insisted that it was you made you villain number one to your siblings.

So there you were, their little sister who was a fucking writer, twiddling with your ungroomed thumbs, waiting for your family to forget who you were. That being said, it was a surprise when you opened your email to find a very flashy invite to Kendall’s 40th. You didn’t think that your brother would want what he perceived as his Debbie Downer boring little sister at his grandiose douche fest.

“Come the fuck on, it’s my party, Bambi, cheer up, enjoy yourself for once,” Kendall says. “Come on, I’ll take you somewhere special.” As he’s about to leave, you stop him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Wait, Ken. I have a gift for you.” You hand him an envelope, “I didn’t want it getting lost in the mix.”

Kendall stops with his buzzing, which is probably coke-induced and takes the envelope from your hands. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you sigh as you watch your brother tuck the envelope into his coat.

He quickly puts a hand on your shoulder before he starts to navigate you around, waving and fistbumping his friends walking by. As quickly as you had gained Kendall’s attention, it faded away from you, as he yelled over at his assistant who seemed new, but you weren’t around enough to know. “Yo! Comfrey, ship up my little sis to the treehouse.”

His assistant – Comfrey, who you knew had definitely been speed walking away from her boss before he hollered out at her – whipped her head towards the both of you. You were the odd couple, Kendall’s glazed over eyes and dopey smile mixed with your grimacing under his touch. “Coming!”

Kendall gives you a pat on the head– a move he often did in childhood, his eyes dead as always as he gives you a good-enough smirk, “You should avoid the other sibs, they’re strictly business right now – serious work only.”

You smile at his unconscious insinuation. You weren't a serious person to them. You weren’t anything you guessed, “Have fun, okay Ken? And try not to be a complete dick tonight,” you ask before Comfrey pulls me away and Kendall saunters off.

You watch your brother from the corner of your eyes, and quickly try to keep up with the bouncing ponytail of his young assistant. The hollowness in your chest that used to exist – that there would be ten years ago – had disappeared now, you were completely okay with the empty promises and empty phrases.

It’s what you grew up on. Raised in the top two floors of the highest buildings in New York, the Scottish highlands with your father’s forgotten castles, or in sprawling ranches in the middle of nowhere for tax purposes. At least that was the childhood you had with the Logan Roy experience.

After Uncle Ewan’s wife passed away, when you went to her funeral with your whole family, Dad decided that he’d leave his youngest with his brother to build your character. Your siblings were already almost in college and you were, well, the youngest and still complaining about multiplication and school field trips. So, from then on, you distanced yourself. Not entirely by your own volition, but every decision after was. And you prayed that every decision following would be as well.

As you try to keep pace with the taller woman, “So Comfrey, how’d you become Kendall’s assistant?”

The woman turns around for a second to get a glance at the youngest Roy, she presses her lips together before curtly responding, “I’m his PR rep.”

All you do is hum in understanding, she was a PR rep that was running around like a low-level worker bee trying to satiate her older brother. It was like all people in their lives.

You pass by the flashing lights, tall glass windows, and strange art installations, not so much admiring them, more like begging to just dissolve into the floor. To melt like the witch in the Wizard of Oz would be your opus, your ooey-gooey pile of person simply having a hard time leaching onto the rich person floors.

When you spot the all-too-familiar treehouse you wince. It seemed that Kendall’s childhood trauma manifested in an exuberant part of his fortieth birthday party. “This is Kendall’s little sister, she’s cool.” Comfrey motions the guards behind her, as you stand awkwardly – it looked like they needed visible confirmation you were you? It took them a second for their heads to look at your orientation.

While they make way for you, opening up the roped fence, you thank Comfrey, then watch her scatter away, and hurry away probably to clean up Kendall’s inevitable fuck-ups.

She was nice enough, you guessed; could be worse.

You wandered through the treehouse with no purpose, staring at the tree trunk columns that looked borderline tacky and its leaf-casted shadows on the walls. You weren’t alone in the room, no there was a boatload of Kendall’s rager hedge fund friends, or celebrities whose faces you remember enough to dart away from – but still, you were alone. You felt eyes on you, people knew that you were a Roy, but eyes don’t give you company.

The space was large enough to walk around for a few minutes, but eventually, you assumed you just looked out-of-place. Pacing around like a failed dracula, circling his already knowing victims. So you resigned yourself to a couch near a wall, praying that nobody approaches you. At least you wouldn’t be sneak-attacked from the back. That was your worst fucking nightmare – a hand on your back and a networking LinkedIn smiley techie.

Leaning into the couch’s thin leather you try to get comfortable. The lights were bright enough you hoped, to not ‘ruin the vibe’ with your phone’s obnoxiously bright screen. Staring at your home screen, you forget any work that you had to do – literally nothing of importance that would make you look like you were doing something. Yes, you were writing a screenplay right now, which would be a good thing to work on if you could concentrate in the noisy fucking room. So you just went on Candy Crush, your finger languidly swiping your high school iPhone wanting to shoot yourself.

You spent an adequate amount of time doing that, getting cozy enough to tuck your feet under your body and let your hair out from the bun it was in. It felt okay, you still wanted to go home, but you were waiting until at least ten percent of the crowd was gone so Kendall wouldn’t get prissy.

But you couldn’t keep the peace, of course, you couldn’t. Because there Kendall comes into the room, not looking for you, but for a man sitting on one of the benches in the middle of the party.

“There he is!” You internally shrink, like a deflated balloon as your brother approaches. You hide like you were habitually doing as a child, trying to dart off from where you were oh-so comfortable. You hear Kendall saying some other bullshit which you tune out in your panic, but as you’re set to leave he calls out your name.

“Bambs!” He turns to the man next to him, “This is my sister– she isn’t a vulture like the other ones, don't worry about that.” He looks back at you, then at the man again, “She’ll take care of you, they avoid her like a fucking plague.”

“Really nice, Ken,” you say, walking towards them reluctantly, resigning to sit next to the blonde man. He was tired-looking with hardly-noticeable but still visible rings underneath his eyes, a small smirk of interest on his face as he doesn’t shuffle to give you space, instead moving closer to you.

Kendall leaves, for a reason you are unsure of. You try to stare in his retreating direction as you feel the stranger’s hot eyes on you. You couldn’t read this guy, he seemed like a regular dude at first glance and to your relief he didn’t seem crazed in the eyes or serial-rapey.

“You’re the youngest one, aren’t you? The recluse?” he asks, his accent isn’t American, it was something Nordic – you hadn’t met many of them in your life.

You turn towards him, to be polite of course, although your body tries to twist awkwardly, making sure he isn’t too close, “Good use of deduction.” He’s attractive, vaguely familiar like everyone in the room, obviously important to your brother, but you still have no fucking clue who he is. “And you’re? One of my brother’s friends?”

He smirks, laying back on a column behind him, “Yeah, we’re best buddies, like peas and a pod.”

“No name?” He laughs, like he was in disbelief that you didn’t know who he was, “I like this, I’ll be your mystery man, hmm?” He leans further towards you, raising his eyebrows – the lack of space making your face hot.

You try to escape any feelings of chagrin, crossing your legs, and staring into his eyes which felt like it was more of his soul. Who was this fucking dude? “A mystery man in my childhood treehouse, you’re sounding like a pedophile to me…”

He nods as though he agrees, laughing, “You have a history in this, I assume, with your family.” Oh yes, Uncle Mo. “What do you do? The tabloids say… writer?”

A part of you feels insecure in your lack of knowledge about him. He knows your occupation, your name, and would probably be able to trace your life back to childhood through the internet, while you sat here like prey for his predator. All in his casual clothing and wolfish smile.

“Yes, some screenwriting, some things more authorial, enough to get by.”

It seemed like the idea of ‘getting by’ was amusing to him as he smiled when you said that. Almost as if he was in disbelief that a Roy would ever need to make enough to get by. Maybe he was older money, maybe he grew up in a big castle like you, a prince or something… your mother had always had people like that over when you were young. It was funny, the old aristocrats with their wine and screaming kids. No he wasn’t old money... his whole being read new. New money. New power.

“You dress like you write children’s books, like a sexy-librarian-kindergarten teacher – it’s hot, if I dare-say,” he says. You can feel him looking her up and down and she doesn’t know if you hate it or like it. You may be leaning to the latter with how lonely you’d been feeling for so long.

You almost roll your eyes, although your face heats up. How long has it been since someone somewhat complimented you? Sure they called your writing good, praised you in those magazines– no journals they called them, but nobody ever looked at you. Even if it was a half-insult.

You did dress conservatively, at least to control the narrative of yourself. Stemming mostly from when the paps took pictures up your skirt as a teenager. They weren’t even decent enough to wait until you were eighteen, the moment the vultures saw that you wore a short-enough skirt they chased you around trying to get a glimpse of the most elusive Roy sibling; the paps were constantly chasing a story, and for the duration of your childhood you were the most interesting part of the billion-piece puzzle belonging to the Roy family.

Without any response, he moves even closer, if that’s humanly possible – your arms pressing up against each other. He was warm, warmer than the stuffy room around the two of you, “Trying to insinuate something, mystery man?”

“Ja, maybe I am,” he says, before leaning close to your face. “Let’s go somewhere more private.” He offers you a hand to get up, which your body wills you to take, but your brain knows logically any man your brother wants to woo is a douche, yet you’d always think with your feelings. He pulls you through the treehouse, walking into more of a secluded room.

You feel people watching you, more than before, more than they would the youngest Roy, but his hand feels so warm in yours, and he was even more attractive standing up. Taller than your smaller stature – you were the shortest of your siblings along with the youngest, the baby. It felt nice walking next to him, it felt safe. But still, it felt almost dangerous.

You breathe out a thank god as the two of you get off of the wooden bench and your butt touches a soft surface again. It’s more secluded than your spot before but like every corner of the party, there were still people around you.

“Not a fan of crowds?” he asks, getting comfortable on the couch and leaning back as you feel his hand rise slowly on your thigh. Like he’s apprehensively confident.

“Is anyone really?” you ask him, he nods slowly, his eyes asking me to go on, “I don’t know why I’m here, maybe just feeling shitty about my family situation, you know? I don't spend much time with them… ever.” You eye the man as he intensely looks back at you – eyefucking you believe it’s called. Oh and his eyes are blue, you’d never noticed that before — remarkably they’re not empty, the soul was still there, at least right now. You have to admit that he’s hot, in this light even more so. His features affirm my suspicions of where he’s from– and as you stare at him even longer you can't quite remember when you’d ever seen a hotter man. “Do you still have no name?”

He grins, looking away, “You’ll know soon enough, won’t you? This is fun for now.”

“The only name I know you by is pedophile, and I don’t think you want people overhearing. Seems like we have eavesdroppers,” you glance over at the small groups of people around you. You assume that they’re small investors, that they probably know Kendall and whatever business he has with the mystery man.

“You’re right, my facial expressions plus my conversation are very relevant to the stock market and usually equals tanking.”

“You talking to me will probably tank it, whatever stock you’re talking about—“ you stop yourself from continuing, would Dad be mad that you were talking to him? “You’re not part of Kendall’s crusade, right? Like my father won’t try and assassinate me for speaking to you?”

It’s almost like he enjoys that notion as he laughs to himself, “Don’t worry about Kendall, your dad hiring a guy maybe, but right now I’m to be courted.” He gestures with his hands – which to you are strangely very animated, “You care about what your dad says, do you?”

You respond nonchalantly, though your hands squirm and you look to the ground, “It’s a constant fuck him, and at the same time I love you, Daddy, I guess. He was shit, is shit, but sometimes he’s not too bad.”

“You call him daddy?”

For the second time today, you feel yourself crawl into your skin, “Oh yeah, when we’re in bed together definitely.”

Mystery man almost giggles at your comment, and there’s something affable about that. He was constantly switching from this serious man to a very unserious one. There was some strange part of this that you liked, you liked the attention the way that he looked at you, the bubble he created around the two of you, the way his hand was increasingly inching.

You think back to the way this night started. You were quite desperate to leave, a bit dampened by the way Kendall accepted your gift, and guilty that you weren't at home taking care of your cat and working. Then you were delivered by this tall Viking man and you were uncomfortably comfortable with the way he made you feel.

“I kind of want to get drunk.”

“I have no qualms with that,” he responds, a grin on his face as you both get up and inch towards the bar, his hand slipping onto your back easily.

The time at the bar was spent in easy conversation, you stand against the wall, with him looming in front of you as you drink together. Him a beer and you a drink with a name you’re unsure of – hating yourself for so much enjoying the tang of the liquified poison.

“Why aren’t you part of your family’s business?”

The way he looks at you… you feel like there’s genuine interest, you look into his eyes and there’s a gleam that scares me. Was he playing with you? Was this a play for your family? You still have no clue who this man is. You let him get too close to yourself, hand on your waist – eyes on yours, too close for a stranger. But you just want to be happy, to feel like you exist again. Not a fly on the wall, the main course.

“You know,” you shrug your shoulders, taking another sip as he just looks at you with a weird facial thing that you don’t quite understand. Like he’s teasing you, but ever so slightly, begging you to spill – which you do. “I’m the baby, y’know – Bambi or whatever.”

He tilts his head back as he absorbs, “Bambi… I like that, you look like a Bambi – the deer right?”

“Yes the deer, they–” I hurriedly take another sip of my drink as I recount the story of my ubiquitous nickname, “Once Dad went hunting and brought me along, we spotted a deer and instead of uh– killing it I kind of ran towards it, while his gun was still aimed. He said that he was about to shoot me like I was a Bambi, he said I was so fast that he almost pulled the trigger while watching me through the scope.”

Mystery man looks at me with wide eyes, “Jesus fuck, that’s a shit thing to say. How old were you?”

“Uh maybe ten, by then my siblings were gone and he visited me where I lived with Uncle Ewan in Canada.”

“What a fucking prick.”

“Yeah.”

You stare at each other for a minute, him in front of you and you below him, you really like his eyes. You break it though, your head was starting to spin from the one drink and he was making it almost worse. “Come on, let’s go sit down, I’m gonna get stumbly.”

Pushing yourself away from the wall, you walk towards an empty space with a few chairs around a table and plop yourself down. Curling into yourself, you can just feel him situating himself next to you.

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you? You look like one too,” he says, taking a swig of his still-almost-full beer.

You glare up at him as you start dozing off, “I’m gonna nap, you do you, pedophile.”

He guffaws, “Okay, no more pedophile jokes, the press hears and I’m done.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you mutter before tucking your head into your own shoulder.

“I have to ask you something before you nod off.” He seems almost genuine in his words as he furrows his eyebrows and leans towards your chair. You lift yourself ever so slightly showing that you’re listening. “We’ll fuck later right? Like guaranteed?”

You close your eyes again before you can roll them, although a tiny smile slips onto your face – you hope he won’t see it as you bury your face into the back of the lounge chair.

“I saw that grin, I’m going to take that as a yes.”

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Don’t contradict yourself now.”

You shake your head in mock embarrassment as you go to sleep. Your head was throbbing a bit, and your heart was beating faster – but you realize that you’d forgotten the loud music, and the crowds of people around. You’d forgotten. You’d found solace after so many years looking for it, in the middle of a mock replica of your childhood treehouse.

And this sleep was peaceful for a while, but then a fucking earthquake rumbled you awake.

“What the fuck,” you grunted as you felt hands on your shoulders, your eyes bulge open and you see Roman above you. “Rome, leave me alone, you bitch.”

“Were you trying to seduce Matsson for dad?”

You just roll your eyes, not understanding in your incoherent state what the fuck your brother was talking about – per usual. Looking around you saw that mystery man was gone, and the party was still raging around you. And his name was Matsson? Strange name, but a little bit fitting.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about… why’d you even wake me up, miss me that bad?” you asked, clearly trying to antagonize him with your whiny voice.

Roman with all his pessimism and ass-holery deadpans at you, “Well I’m fuckin’ sorry, you totally missed the six foot tall Viking who was camped out beside your unconscious body?”

“Is that not the point of being unconscious, dumbass?”

“Did you fuck him, Bambi? Were you so fucking tired after fucking him that you had to take a big girl nap?”

“There’s something psychologically wrong with you.”

Roman sits squatting on the top of the chair as he pseudo-interrogates you, “Y’know he didn’t let me fucking wake you up, was that a power play or did you let him do you?”

“Rome, I have no idea who that man was, he just said he was your friend and Ken told me to keep an eye on him.” Half-lying was your thing, you guessed. Your life was full of half-lies, momentary omissions of details, ignoring parts of sentences so you seemed more innocent. That was the life of a youngest child out of five you guessed.

“And since when were you Kendall’s bitch?” “Since he invited me to something, unlike you.”

Roman completely skipped your comment before going off again, “Did he tell you anything, Matsson?”

“Oh yeah, he told me he fucking hates your guts,” you say with a smile, watching your brother getting riled up.

“I’m going to tell Dad that you fucked him if you don’t tell me the truth,” he threatens, it was fun being in this position. You’d so regularly in your childhood been put down by your older siblings, so it was interesting being the one to give it back to them. You finally understood the appeal. Ah, leverage.

You smile as you pretend to recount, a finger to your chin as you mockingly itch it, “Oh he told me that Dad’s an asshole and he has no interest in business with any of you creeps.”

“You’ve seriously been spending too much time with Uncle Looney? You know that right? You sound delusional, completely and utterly gone.”

As you sit up straighter trying to compose yourself, you eye Shiv coming over to where you and Roman sit (although he’s very much standing, pacing, like a lunatic), her hair a mess and her makeup smudged all over. She’d either just had mind blowing sex or something was seriously wrong with her.

You and your sister were strained to say the least. You wanted the idealized big sister who would braid your hair and make you up. The sister who would talk about boys with you and argue with you over stealing her clothes. You guessed Shiv more so wanted to prove herself to Dad – she’d always been his favourite. You were more of an afterthought to her. The kind of afterthought that made you do a double take when you remember that you’d buried it so long ago.

There wasn’t any sentimentality in the title of sister with the two of you. You were just another sibling, and probably her third favourite before Connor. But still, you love her, and you know in the deep recesses of her heart she loves you too. All the siblings love each other, although a strong belief for you was that there were certain dynamics that you were excluded from because of your age and difference in childhood.

“You do you, Roman. Just know that I’m hoping for your business with him to fail, just handing you my two cents.” Business was a strange concept to you, you were always pushed away from it as a child, leading you to know less than nothing about it. At one point you felt like you would go into it, but that too was ripped away from you. So right now, you just wanted to make Roman feel bad. Sure it was wrong to want to churn your brother into pieces, but it felt so good.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, so just like, sit with that, okay?”

“Whatever, Roman.”

Roman ignores your words calling out for Shiv. Shiv runs a finger through straight but frizzy hair before coming to give you a half-hug.

The hug was weird and a little bit detached, but it was something, and it made you feel not instantly uncomfortable, but almost happy. Happy to see your sister again a little bit. “Bambi, it’s been like two fucking years.”

It hadn’t been, but you agree. It felt like it.

“I didn’t know you were keeping track–” you try to say, but Roman quickly cuts you off. Biting off that Shiv was out dancing. Dancing was a human thing. You didn’t know your only sister was a human.

“Guys, I’m gonna go now, I’ll probably not be in touch, so yeah,” you try and gracefully leave as your siblings bicker about finessing or some shit.

They both nod non-committedly as you trot off observing Kendall and Connnor at the opposite poles of the room. You choose to not go off towards Kendall, who you knew probably already ruined his night with his overthinking or underthinking. Instead you go to Connor, probably your only kind brother, albeit the fact sometimes he was fucking lawful psychotic.

“Con, Con,” you call out, your small purse at your side as you push it around your body – you’d refused to give it to security earlier, citing personal reasons which they were too scared to deny. They probably assumed it was your period or something like that – you’d made that insinuation when they didn’t relent for your last name.

You see Connor’s coated body turn around as he returns your call, “Bambi! My favourite sister – you remember Willa?” Connor gestures to his arm candy, who didn’t seem too excited to meet you – or meet you again, but obviously faked it. She was very pretty, nearly to the point where she made you feel insecure. But then again, no hate for your brother, but she was with your brother. You were sure Connor had mentioned her in a phone call, but you two never really talked about those kinds of things. He was always ranting on about politics (you think you’re the only one who would listen, so he took advantage of that) or you would talk about your life – never about the company, or really how he was doing besides his ranch.

“Yes, at Shiv’s wedding, I believe?” She just nods, and you’re both just pretending to know when you last met. There was no recognition in her eyes, and you don’t think you’d ever interacted with her. It was a nice connection you’d had, a shared lie always brings people together.

“Ken, told me you were here, but I thought you’d be gone by now.” Connor pulls you into a hug before saying, “Have you been taking care of yourself, sis?”

“I’ve been doing okay, normally as always.” Noticing his cast, she asks, “What’s up with your arm, Con’?”

“Oh, I was doing an Irish jig as one does, and boom I slipped and it bent in all different directions,” he describes in a strangely vivid way. “I’m feeling better though, Willa helped me recover, right sweetheart?”

“Yep,” she nodded, a smile on her face as she bore her eyes into mine – uncomfortable? Very.

Connor was probably the only one of your siblings you regularly spoke to, yes it was by phone, and no you didn’t always enjoy it, but there was a beautiful normalcy to speaking on the phone with your brother. With Kendall or Roman it always turned into business– about Dad. With Shiv it was her ranting about some political thing, well maybe that was before she turned so Waystar-loco.

Connor was your normal brother.

“Have you heard of my recent presidential proclivities?” he asks, tilting his head as he looks at Willa for support – in which she enthusiastically nods her head.

Maybe he wasn’t exactly the most normal of brothers, but he was more normal than the brother who spoke about you having sex weirdly too much or the one who can’t stop fucking over your dad and snorting cocaine.

You nod, but before you hear a tumble and watch Roman bending over a kneeling Kendall. What a fucking dick. Kendall’s girlfriend, who you also didn’t recognize was helping him up, and you stood there with no intention to help or rush in, frozen to your spot.

Connor shouts out, “Everyone take it easy, okay?” as Roman maniacally laughs and Kendall helps himself up.

As Kendall walks past you, Connor, and Willa he grumbles, “Take your fucking coat off,” repeating it to Connor as he walks like a man scorned. Willa blocks Connor from Kendall trying to calm the younger brother down. You avert Kendall’s gaze, standing next to Willa blocking Connor who looks to the ground much like you.

Shiv seemingly walks away from the scene as well, but in the opposite direction from Kendall, and immediately after Willa and Connor walk arm in arm out, saying a quiet goodbye to you.

With one glance to Roman, who’s still muttering curses under his breath on the sofa chairs, you leave. You’d quickly sobered up, and it was time to face the darkness of New York. Walking out of the luxurious Manhattan skyscraper you peer at the artificially brightened roads and the strange silence of the backroads. Instead of taking an Uber or Taxi, you opt for the Subway. You didn’t take an allowance from your Dad like Connor did, you never inherited anything ever, and your last poetry anthology wasn’t lucrative enough to have casual taxi money. You were sure nothing would happen on the Subway, from experience you know that there would just be a few people throwing up and tired workers coming home from the night shift.

Before walking down into the station, you check your phone, one hand on the railing and the other carefully gripping onto your phone. Attention split both ways.

Unknown

Know who I am yet?

1 Missed Call from Unknown

Your heart skips a beat, an adrenaline rich positive-ending to the night beat skip.

Instead of heading inside, you turn around, sitting down on the top step of the stairs, hoping a coked up crypto-bro doesn’t push you down.

Pressing the call, a part of you hopes he doesn’t pick up, so you can return to normalcy, but the heart wants what the heart wants.

“Bambi?”

You groan, “I thought the story would stop you from calling me that.”

“Not because of the story, it suits you–” he pauses, the line going crackly as you hear him talk to someone, “You’ve left the party?”

“Yeah, walking home now.” “Walking? This is America, ja? You’re on a death mission.”

“It’s not too late, you know serial killers only come out after two in the morning.”

“I can send a car, hmm? You can come over here.”

“What does ‘over here’ mean? To a stranger’s home?”

“You promised me something, didn’t you?”

“Hmmmm, a promise? I don’t remember.”

“Send me your location, I’ll get my guy to get you.”

“Okay, I’ll send my location to a stranger just because he was nice to me at my brother’s party.”

“See you soon then.”

____

The drive was awkward to Matsson’s (you preferred mystery man to what seemingly sounded like a last name, although it might be a first, Europeans were in themselves a mystery as well). The driver was quiet, and the car was a rich person’s. It was a car you were all too familiar with, the car you drove in during your childhood, the same tinted windows and leather seats.

Same thing of riding up to the penthouse of a hotel – he was only here temporarily you surmised. You’d probably be a one-time thing.

When the elevator doors beep open and you’re in a hallway with one door, anxiety fills you up. What if this was a trap? If he was some sort of sexual pervert, or even worse an axe murderer with an even worse temper than anyone you could find on the New York streets?

But before you can even knock the door swings open and a hand pulls you in, “Fucking asshole,” you whisper as you feel his lips trace over yours, your breath in his.

He’s rough, and rushed, like he’s a man starved – of you.

As he starts tracing his fingers underneath your shirt you push his back, two hands on his chest as he kneels his head to meet yours. “What’s wrong?” “I don’t know your name,” you say, almost embarrassed that you hadn’t found it on your own, “Matsson? That’s your name.”

He doesn’t respond, just pulls you close to him, before picking you up into his arms. You restrain a squeal as you struggle in his arms. He navigates through the hallways, looking as though he was confused on the layout of his own homebase, he finds the bed – splaying you down and standing above you like an animal.

“You know, I refuse to orgasm without your name,” you insist. He moves closer and closer, uncharacteristically quiet as he pulls your shirt up laying a hand on your stomach, the other tracing over your soaked panties, slowly creeping towards your sensitive skin.

He’s strangely gentle with it, until he pulls your panties to the side, spreading open your legs as he buries his face into your pussy. You move your two legs onto his shoulders, as plays with your nipples – languid twisting and faint touches that leave you just wanting more.

You let out a yelp as you feel his tongue move into you, like a fucking shark he dives into your clit as he watches you for your reaction. You know you look like a mess, breathless and desperate. “Please, please–” you moan, desperate for his tongue, for his touch, his everything.

“Your pussy’s so good, baby– fucking heaven,” he whispers into where his head lay between your thighs. As he blows gently on it, you are wholly exposed and cold, you start squirming. Your thighs start pressing around his head, trying to push him further, which seemed to turn him on even more. Your legs start to shake as your orgasm builds up and builds up, you feel like screaming from the bliss of it, his attack on your pussy is like God reigning down on earth. “Refuse to orgasm, hmm? Want me to stop?”

You shake your head as he continues, “Please, keep going, keep going—” He listens to you, beginning to rub your clit as the feeling of everything continues to crash down on you

“Come baby, come.” He keeps on licking you up, every fucking crevasse.

Your orgasm came hard and quick, with a groan and a twitch your eyes rolled over as you released his head from in between your thighs, and as quickly as he got there, he climbed on top of you – his larger body engulfing yours as he hurriedly kisses you.

“I want to inside me,” you say into his ear, you could feel him from underneath his pants as he grabs your ass, groaning into you as you palm him.

“Take off your fucking clothes,” he orders, as you do it, you take off the loose t-shirt you’d been wearing to Kendall’s party off slowly, you can feel him staring at your tits, and a part of you loves it. Loves the attention you get from him. As you take off your pants from where they are bunched up from your ankles, and then the greenish-blue granny panties you wear, you watch him take his suede pants and then his boxers off. Oh god, you feel yourself thinking as you stare at him.

He picks you up as he brings his length into your entrance, rubbing it on your clit. He keeps going, relentless before he surprises you and slips it in, tilting your head towards him so he could watch you as he fucked you.

You hear him groan as he starts with slow thrusts, he would push in and then wait five seconds before slowly sliding out— making sure you felt every inch of him. He was too big and you felt so full, with every time he pulled out you felt like five years were taken from your life span, that time had slowed down too much. You fucking needed him.

Of course he starts going fast, rough. There were no thoughts in your mind as you arched against him, and moaned in his mouth as he kissed you. Deeply and raw, like he had everything to lose and you would disappear in a heartbeat.

Pinning your hands above your head, he continues with his pace, passionately and without bore– “You’re so good for me, I just want to be inside you all the time,” he says a grin on his face as he watches your face before glancing down looking at his dick pound into you.

He presses kisses to your throat as he whispers, “My name’s Lukas, Lukas Matsson–” strangely enough hearing his name sends you off the edge as you moan out unintelligibly, overstimulated as he keeps on going, getting more and more erratic.

Not long after, he pumps into you a few more times before completely spilling inside of you, collapsing on top of you, not leaving your warmth as he buries himself deeper.

You don’t say anything afterwards, you let him lay on top of you as he stays inside of you all the same. It feels like time doesn’t pass as he wraps his arms around you, “Stay the night?” he asks, all you do is nod.

You lay in silence for a few more seconds before you tell him, “I’m on birth control, by the way, pretty fucking risky to cum inside me without asking though.”

“I wouldn’t be mad at a little me running around if I could fuck you again.”

Not saying anything, you press a kiss to his neck before tucking yourself closer into his body– finding sleep comes to you when so often it fails you.

#lukas matsson #succession #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson x roy!reader #fem reader #smut #first time writing smut #to be continued #kendall roy #succession fanfic #succession x reader #will post on ao3 when more chapters

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leviathanspain · 1 year ago

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helloo requesting a Roman Roy x reader where Roman makes her feel really shitty and insecure but she really loves him and stays in their toxic relationship, argument and he invalidates her , if you want please thank you 🖤

even if it hurts me

roman roy x reader

synopsis: roman roy didn’t know just how lucky he really is

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“mhm, and that hot piece of ass should be walking in here any minute.” roman looked down at his watch, bored with the so-called ‘family meeting’ that kendall had organized to conspire against logan. roman didn’t care much for kendall’s rants and antics, he was only there so he wouldn’t be left out.

shiv scoffed, looking down at the floor as she crossed her arms. “i thought that having a girlfriend would make you respect women.” she liked the influence you had on roman, but he was always resisting it any chance he could.

roman saw your reflection in the glass as you approached the glass office. he stood up, stretching a leg out dramatically as you opened the door. “oh it did. just not this one.” he grabbed you, pulling you tight into his side. you didn’t have enough time to even react, but you managed to squirm free.

“can you not-“ you turned a shade of red, catching both shiv and kendall’s eyes before shifting them to the carpet out of embarrassment. you distanced yourself slight from roman before smiling at the siblings. roman rolled his eyes and began to practically push you out the door, “stop kissing their asses, focus on mine, hmm?” he clapped a hand on your hip, squeezing the skin tightly.

you winced slightly, allowing him to shove you out the door until he was pulling you with him towards the elevators.

you stayed silent as he pressed the elevator button. roman’s impatience got the best of him as he slammed the button again.

and again.

you sighed, hoping that the final time he slammed it would be the last. but just as his hand lifted up towards the button, you found yourself shouting stop at the top of your lungs.

he froze, eyes widening as he turned to look at you. you were speechless, mainly in shock at your own behavior but anger washed over you as he maintained eye contact, hand slamming the button once more.

“you son of a bitch.” you gritted. annoyed at roman, you didn’t hesitate to push him out of the way as the elevator doors opened. roman faked an ‘ow!’ and followed in after you. you were angry, he could tell. perhaps it was the way it had gone with his siblings, he noticed that had become a pattern.

“do i not fuck you good enough?” roman broke the silence on the ride down, head tilting down at you in a condescending manner. his tone shifted, and he smirked slightly, “not good enough that you still think that you can tell me what to do?” he stared into your eyes, waiting for an answer.

you flinched slightly under his gaze, but remained steady, “no you don’t. not with your tiny cock, any fucking feels like a pinch.”

roman’s laughter burst into the tiny space and you forced yourself to stare ahead as he finished out his mocking laughter.

“oh my god. that one,” he slapped his knee, still laughing hysterically, “was good! if you hadn’t been begging to be fucked just,” he looked down at his watch, “some odd five hours ago?”

you stared at roman, challenging his eye once more. you grabbed his hand, tightly twisting it in yours, “hit me.” roman’s expression twisted into shock, “hit me! fucking hit me! be a coward like your father, and hit me!” you screamed, feeling the anger bubble over.

roman pulled his hand out of yours and stepped back into the elevator wall. “are you insane?! no!”

you rolled your eyes, “why not? hmm? you have the balls to embarrass me, humiliate me, and condescend me any chance you get. why cant you be a fucking man and hit me?” the intensity in your voice rose and roman looked bewildered.

“can you shut the fuck up for two seconds?! im not going to hit you-“ roman tightened his grip on the bars attached to the wall. the elevator rides were never usually this long. he needed out- he needed to-

you broke free just as the elevator doors opened onto the waystar building lobby. you didn’t bother to look back at roman, still gripping the handlebars in the elevator, as you walked out.

roman blinked, until he let go and rushed after you. there was a chance you’d leave him behind, stranding him like last time.

you could hear the stomping of his feet as he chased after you. his voice was shouting your name, echoing into the parking garage. you picked up speed, hoping you’d be able to outrun him. you reached the suv’s doors and tapped the driver, “step on it, hmm?” you leaned back into the seat just as the driver started the engine. there was a pause, and he pointed to roman, who was waving his hands frantically to stop the driver.

you rolled your eyes, sighing as the driver spoke, “what about mr. roy?” the hesitation was enough time for roman to make it to the car. his hand grabbed the passenger door. you scoffed as he swung himself in, giving you a glare before barking instructions to the driver.

he turned to look at you, sweaty and angry, but he didn’t dare to say anything else.

kendall watched as the headline dragged itself pathetically across the screen. another incident involving roman, you and the police had occurred, and this time the media had caught it.

kendall had left message after message on roman’s cell. but neither him or anyone at waystar had heard from him. siobhan tried your cell, but you weren’t answering either.

tom and greg walked into roman’s office, following a message from shiv to come. “that is-“ he pointed slightly to the tv, swallowing thickly as a camera panned out a shot on the waystar royco building, “horrible.” greg finished for him, moving to sit on the only chair that roman refuses to let anyone sit in.

even you.

he relaxed into it, “do we know if it’s even true? you really think they’d send each other to the hospital?” he looked at tom, who shrugged and looked down at shiv, “you think your brother is a woman beater?”

siobhan couldn’t help but scoff, turning to look up at tom, “are you serious?” tom sputtered, as if he couldn’t find the words to defend himself.

kendall sighed, “they’re not hospitalized. roman isn’t that stupid and she-“ he paused, “it just doesn’t make sense. maybe they’re just staying in today.”

shiv stifled a laugh, “i’m sorry but who are we kidding.” she stood up, “rome is our brother, but he’s a shitty fucking boyfriend. i wouldn’t blame y/n if she decided to finally cash out with roman’s dead body.”

“that was a really horrible thing to say, shiv.” shiv turned to head towards tom, who continued, “but it could be true.”

greg sighed, as if he seemed to have found a solution for this entire situation. he stood up, watching as they all stopped to stare at him. he whipped his phone out and immediately began to dial. there was a smirk on his face that only tom was encouraging.

“hey y/n!” greg knew he would’ve been able to get you on the phone, you were both the outsiders in the roy family’s game, after all.

“ew what the fuck. why is greg the egg calling you?” roman sounded far away, but he was the only one of the phone. there was a bit of back and forth before greg cleared his throat, “may i talk to y/n?”

“why? so you can fuck her?” roman deadpanned across the line and greg immediately blushed a deep red, scoffing in response, “no! no! we- i, am just concerned because neither of you are at the office.”

“we?” there was a bit of muffled talk, before greg heard the phone being passed off, “we saw it. don’t worry about any of it, we’ve talked to logan.”

it was you.

you sounded shaky, but stern. greg didn’t get to say anything before you hung up, leaving no room for more questions.

you threw your phone onto the bed and sighed, sitting down on it.

roman had opted to sit crisscrossed on the carpet. hunched over, a thoughtful look on his face. “are we going to talk about it?” his hands untucked themselves from under his chin, fingers toying with the fibers of the carpet.

you sat with your legs outstretched in front of you, arms crossed on a lounge chair. “are you going to hit me?”

roman blew a breath out, “can you stop with that? im sick of you saying that-“

“no because that’s what you need to do, roman. you need to just smack me or even punch me-“

“why?!” roman’s voice bounced off the walls, squeaky and almost boyish.

“because maybe then i’d finally stop loving you!” the words came out like vomit. just flooded the space between you until you felt it kill all the oxygen in the room. you clawed slightly at the lounge chair as you watched his shoulders tighten.

roman didn’t say anything as he looked up, “what?” there was a genuine surprise in his voice, a shock to your confession.

you bit your lip slightly, sighing deeply before speaking, “i have spent the last five years of my life loving you. it has been a torture, humiliating and degrading. yet-“ you felt your voice crack with emotion, “i find myself loving you more and more with each waking moment. i cannot breathe without you by my side, like all the air dies the minute you walk out the door. i want to love you roman, even if it hurts me. even if i’ll be nothing but a ‘piece of ass’ to you.” you felt a tear slide down your cheek, sniffling slightly.

roman, who had been staring at the carpet leading up to this moment, looked up. “i’m sorry.”

words spoken rarely, but you could feel the warmth behind it.

“and i’m not gonna fucking hit you.” not like he would, he wanted to add, but decided it would best to leave the father-son comparison out for this.

roman stood up, moving to sit down next to you. you felt his hands snake themselves around your waist, fingertips grabbing tightly onto your skin, “i love you, even if it hurts you.” he kissed your temple and for a moment, you had found peace at roman roy’s side.

#roman roy x you #roman roy fluff #roman roy smut #roman roy succession #roman roy angst #roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession x reader #succession fanfic #succession hbo #succession

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wambsgansshoelaces · 10 months ago

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Hi there! How are you doing? I just recently found your account and LOVE it! Thank you for sharing all your stories! I particularly loved the head cannons for clingy Roman and comforting Roman!

After reading the comforting Roman one, I had an idea for some more head cannons or a story (truly whichever you prefer if you want to write this idea). But maybe something along the lines of standing up to Logan somehow and defending Roman? Seeing him so hurt and vulnerable because of what his father said broke my heart and I definitely think he needs someone in his corner, privately and publicly!

Thank you so much if you do write something around this idea, but please don’t feel pressured to if it doesn’t spark any ideas. I hope you have a fabulous day/night! 💛

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

this is literally the sweetest request I’ve ever gotten so it went to the top of my priority list. I’m doing okay, thank you so much for asking!! I hope you’re amazing <3 you don’t understand how much it means to me that you enjoy what I write and that you love it!!! it makes me so happy!!! any request or idea you have, I promise, will give me ideas. I’m so grateful I have people like you enjoying and reading my work!! It’s one in the morning for me, so I’m sorry I can’t make it longer… but enjoy! I love you rita, thank you for requesting xx

also just a general psa, if there’s never any specific pronoun/reader gender detail in the request, I’ll default to fem/female unless I can access your profile, to which then I’ll just use the requester’s pronouns/gender. enjoy!

Word Count: 2.181k

Married life was all you could’ve ever dreamed it would be. It was more.

Roman had surprised you with how quickly he’d committed to you and you solely. He’d told you, the night of your wedding, he knew you were it for him from your first official date. That even if you dumped him, hated him, threw him out, he’d be yours. He’d never remarry, he’d never even look at another woman.

You’re the only thing that brings light to his life. You radiate warmth into him. Being around you is being by a fire in the dead of winter up on Mount Everest. In quiet conversations in the middle of the night, the two of you tangled together in bed, he’d admitted he’d kill for you. Lie for you, commit crime for you, it was all the same to him. You are what brings meaning to his life. You’re an absolute in his world of probabilities. His anchor, his rock, the love of his fucking life.

Neither of you ever take off your rings. You’d both made sure to get metals that wouldn’t rust with water and had high durability just so you were never without them. If Roman was a shell of a man before he’d met you, he’s a god now.

Late nights at the office, he has a thing of chocolate for you clutched in his hands as an apology. Untoward women flirting with him despite his very obvious marriage (he endlessly speaks of you to anyone and everyone), his hand is on your hip, his lips on yours. You’re sick? He’s taken the day off to stay with you so you’re not suffering on your own.

On the off chance you both have days off and the energy, you’re out and about. Arcades, carnivals, anything so he can see you laughing and smiling and so fucking glowy. If you’re happy, he’s happy. You’re the most important thing in his life. In between your occasional excursions, he’s Googling how to beat carnival games, he’s practicing Flappy Bird, just so that when you do go out, and your eyes catch on a particularly cute plushie, he can get it for you and watch your face light up and feel the universe grace him with heaven.

If there was anything that came with being married that you didn’t like, it was his family. Maybe not Kendall, nor Shiv. Both were kind to you, and Connor didn’t come round anymore. You couldn’t blame him.

Roman’s your husband. You know him, you know what upsets him. And nine times out of ten, when he’s crying, it’s because of his father.

Usually so bubbly and relaxed, when he was upset, he was upset. He was unable to function. He ran to you like a moth drawn to light. He’d gone so long not knowing how to cope; you were only just now helping him learn how.

“Roman, where’s that cream sweater of yours?” you call out to him. He was washing his face in the bathroom, the two of you getting ready for dinner with his family. Waystar shenanigans, as he’d put it. But you knew that truthfully, it was deeper than that. More terse.

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

You tsk, instead crossing over to your side of the closet to pick out an outfit. “Just no weird color combinations, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, not bothered, strolling into the closet. He pinches the small of your back as he slides past you, going to look through his clothing. “What color are you wearing?”

“It’s going to be really cold, so I was thinking cable knit. Or should I just wear a turtleneck and slap a jacket over it?” You hold both options up, turning to face him. This was routine for you both. Strangely enough, he loved matching with you, and you both regularly help each other dress.

“You’re already shivering. Wear the sweater.” He comes to you, plants a kiss on your lips, then turns back and tugs his shirt off over his head. He manages to find another sweater, slipping it on. It’s the same color as yours, and even though he’s done this countless times before, your heart warms. Once you’re both ready, you’re in the car that was sent for you. You grip the bridge of your nose with your fingers, taking a deep breath as the car gently jostles you as you’re driven. Roman scoots over in the back seat, where you both are, so that your sides are pressed together. His hand slides over your thigh, rubbing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, dropping your hand and looking over at him. You smile, meeting his eyes. You adore him. It’s evident in your gaze, and it’s mirrored in his. “Just bracing myself.”

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

Roman grips your hand tightly as you go up in the elevator.

You stick a fake smile on your face and step out into the light to greet Marcia. She air kisses both your cheeks, then Roman’s, greeting you both. You both make your rounds, hugging, kissing cheeks. You pretend to steal Iverson’s nose, to his delight, and he runs to his father, tattling on you with a massive grin on his face. Kendall just smiles at the both of you, the exhaustion slightly lifting from his features.

You go say hello to Greg, who’s happy to see you. Out of all the Roys, save for your husband, Greg’s the one you got on with the most. You were both in the same situation. You were both considered outsiders, yet still apart of the inner circle, still concerned with all the plotting and scheming and drama.

He gives you a hug, and you duly note that Roman’s being taken aside by his dad. You turn your attention back to Greg, making sure to keep an ear strained for anything that might go wrong. You chat idly for a bit, and you get the sense that everyone in the room is doing the same thing you are. You can feel the tension slowly spreading. Something’s wrong. And if it’s not, it will be very soon.

It doesn’t take very long.

Logan’s voice is booming through the townhouse, and everyone gathered quickly silences.

“What do you fucking want me to do, then, Roman? Roll over and let you fuck me?”

You and Greg wince in unison. “Are they still arguing over whether they should sell?” he asks you quietly. Frown starting on your face, you nod.

Waystar wasn’t the only company the Roys had control over. There were conglomerates on conglomerates of other companies, the most problematic of the bunch causing massive monetary issues- among others. It was an ethical disaster, and the lawsuits were beginning to pile up on top of each other.

While the general consensus was that the company should be sold, and quickly, Logan was stuck in his ways and took it as personal offence. Specifically with Roman. You couldn’t even begin to make up some lame reason as to why. They’d gotten into countless arguments over it, Roman doing his best to convince his father that if this one company went down, it was going to take a lot down with it.

You give Kendall a look, and he pushes himself up from his seat on the sofa and follows the direction of their voices. Shiv follows shortly after.

At dinner, everyone is white knuckling their silverware. Under the table, you let your leg press up against Roman’s. His entire body’s taut, and he’s staring down into his plate. You eat silently, the chatter around you awkward. You and Shiv murmur to each other about a new restaurant opening up down the street, making unofficial plans to go together when you could.

Of course, the moment you’re feeling at ease again, Logan decides to ruin it.

“Roman, you want to tell the table how willing you are to stab your own father in the back? We can’t just not talk about it.” He chews before speaking again, voice ringing. “Don’t you think your wife ought to keep her eyes open?”

You bite down a retort, Roman bristling. “Come on, Dad. Don’t bring her into this.”

You’re silently hoping that Shiv, Kendall, anyone steps in. Points out how wrong this is. How hypocritical, just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

“You know what, Romulus? I’ve let you do as you please for far too long.” You look up from your plate, on the brink of shock. You just can’t fathom the idiocy. “It’s time the world knew that you’re a cheat, you’re a liar, and you’re fucking rotten to the core. It’s time you stopped showing your face around here, like your brother.”

Your husband opens his mouth, then closes it, flabbergasted. You can see the tears rushing to his tear ducts, you can practically feel the tightening in his chest.

That’s it. You can’t. You can’t fucking handle this anymore. You get up abruptly, your chair making a garish, grating noise against the marble floor. “He’s right. We shouldn’t come here anymore,” you say, voice steady and clear. Your voice is raised, your tone firm. “It’s time we left, Roman."

Logan drops his utensils, the silver clattering against the table. “What’s the hurry? At least finish up with dinner.”

The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you can’t suppress the anger anymore. “Are you fucking senile?” you yell, Roman quietly getting up to stand beside you. “Enough is enough. Stupid fucking Pyros and it’s stupid fucking issues! You run it like a prison, your profit is nonexistent, and it’s being sued by every law firm under the sun. There’s a right decision you can make, but your head is too far up your ass for you to even see it. Go ahead, let shit hit the fan! Let the entire fucking family fortune get snatched away from you because of one measly company! And by all means, bully Roman over it, despite the fucking fact that every single person in this room agrees with what we’re saying.” You’re the one bristling now, the words spilling out of your mouth. “We’re not coming back. I’m going to the press first thing in the morning. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You’re nothing more than a piece of shit, Logan. You wouldn’t know a good son if he fucking punched you. Fuck off. You don’t deserve someone like Roman.”

Roman’s out the door before you are. Face still flushed and adrenaline still pumping through your veins, Roman helps you into your coat, you grab your purse, and you’re out in the chilly New York air, waving your arm for a taxi.

The ride home is silent, his head leaning on your shoulder.

Back at home, you kick off your shoes at the door, your stomach still in knots. “I’m sorry,” you manage, watching him shuck his jacket off and toss it into the coat closet. “I should’ve… I should’ve kept my temper in control.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He comes over to you, his hands going to cup your hips and pull you close to him. “You’re the only one that’s been in my corner. Ever. My entire fucking life. You deserve a fucking medal.”

You kiss him gently, quickly. “It just made me angry.”

“I’m going to quit,” he tells you lowly, hand coming up to your jaw. He strokes your bottom lip as he gazes at you. “I’m going to quit and we’re going to run off to whatever place is the farthest from here.”

You steal another kiss from him before responding. “Let me ruin his fucking life first, okay? Pretty please?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Oh, only since you asked so nicely.”

You’re both giggling as you collapse on the couch together, the dinner already forgotten. That’s how you know he was meant for you. Nothing mattered but him. The world could be burning around you, and Roman Roy could be smiling, and everything’d be fine because he was happy. That meant all was right in the world.

You cuddle up to him, his arm coming to drape over your shoulders. You hook your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his chest.

“You know,” he begins, “with corners and stuff, that’d make you a boxer. Or a wrestler.”

“Wasn’t that your analogy?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t stop you from being a fuckin’ champion.” His voice wavers, the way it does when he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

You both share a long, loud, laugh. It’s far too late at night for this. Apparently, his father was fucking nocturnal and only had meals past ten.

“You know you love it. You love me,” he murmurs groggily, barely still clinging on to consciousness.

“Yeah. I do.”

#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy oneshot #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #anon ask #requests open

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richeeduvie · 6 months ago

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Can someone please explain to me the whole baby thing? And dog bone au? And all these aus im so confused

DOG AND BONE!AU BASICS

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

This is asked every five months and I'm happy to explain it each time! I'll put it in the pinned post! This is a long one so sorry yall

So Dog and Bone is the title to the AU for a self-insert x Roman Roy fic compilation. There's no actual series yet…sorry, I know! How long has it been? But these fics range from entire one-shots that center around a plot that can lead into another one-shot/drabble, with the content of said piece becoming important to the whole AU, to just cute, fluffy or smutty drabbles and blurbs. Most of them are based on requests. Your request could become a big part of Dog and Bone!

BABY

Baby is the name for the self-insert. Fics will flip from a second person to third person POV, so you'll see her referred to as 'Baby' a lot. I don't consider her an OC because there's no and will never be a physical description of her and to be honest, I only started to referred to her as Baby so I could write third person POV fics when I'm lazy and don't want to go heavy in internal monologue, which is what I do for second person POV fics. I never use 'Y/N' for her or any self-insert. But many see her as other people and not themselves and I love that too!

Personality-wise, you'll find her to Roman's soulmate. Although she is still a victim of being out-of-touch due to her wealth, she's managed to be kind and respectful and just something that Roys don't have outside of her. She's the ultimate nepo baby with Logan just giving her some vague career path at Waystar to keep her around. She mostly works in marketing and spends her days with Tom and Greg. So, the story of DAB (lol). Baby is the childhood best friend of Roman (and Shiv). In the AU, Baby's biological father was Logan's best friend and business associate. She met the Roy family when she was five and when Roman when almost seven. She was meant to be the best friend of Shiv, but Roman stole her one day when Shiv when to get more toys and baby Baby was on the swings. His sister is still pissed about this to this day.

Nothing much has been mentioned of Baby's bio dad just yet, but it was a one-time thing (so understandable is yall don't remember) that we see Logan giving Baby the medal her father gave him after his funeral. He's dead and apparently fought in a war, or maybe just liked collecting medals as much as Logan did.

So, facts about the dead dad:

Maybe was a veteran

Was hinted to have given Baby an eating disorder

Died when she was eight

Possibly kept her away from her mother

Logan's her godfather, but it was Frank to take her in after her dad had passed. Frank ON TOP!!!! PAPA FRANK!!! Baby's mother is very distant and she's really only seen her for a few holidays throughout her childhood. I've always imagined her to be those wealthy hippies feigning spirituality and did maybe try to get Baby in terms of custody, but didn't try a lot - not even after Baby's father died. So, Baby gets to stay with the Roys with Frank being her guardian. With this, it's just co-dependency and possessiveness growing.

Roman and Baby don't really have friends outside of each other. They do everything together and eventually start doing relationship sort of things together. They take each others virginities. Roman gets panicky and painful in the muscles if Baby has to leave him for more than three days. It's great, but nothing's official.

They live this way until Roman gets with Tabitha.

Now, you may be thinking 'Why does he begin a relationship with Tabitha if he's so possessive and seemingly satisfied with the situation he has with Baby?' Well, I have two fics that'll help you to explain Roman's stupidity:

Why Does Rome Still Date Tabitha (They Don’t Have Sex, but Still) Kendall Wins!AU Confession

The latter of the two is a bit more personal and truthful for Roman. It can be noted that as much as I am a GerriRoman supporter, their relationship does not happen in the DogandBone!AU. Only because one, frankly, I don't know how to or have the desire to thread it throughout the story because I already kept Tabitha's plotline…which is Roman's downfall. You will see. And two, you'll find that Roman and all of the Roys, really, have a lot of themselves changed all because they have one genuine friend that's cared and loved them since childhood so that big part of Roman's plotless plot-time in canon is gone here. Grace didn't happen as well because Jesse Armstrong said so lol.

As I said, the genuine friend line applies to all of the Roys (excluding Logan, except for his AU…), but it really applies to Kendall. Going back to the point where Baby and Roman are fourteen/fifteen and fifteen/sixteen, he gets sent away to military school. I made it so he's only there for two years to which Logan just doesn't care to send him there anymore because I want Baby and Roman teenage puppy and needy love for as much as I can get it. During this time, Kendall has this belief, this kindness to take in Baby when she's at her loneliest.

and…so…Kendall and Baby's whole thing?

The link above sums up their whole situation but I'll elaborate a bit more here because there's Tern Haven. Tern Haven happens in the OG!DogandBone!AU and KendallWins!AU, the grooming situation happens in every AU.

Of course, Roman comes back and Baby sobers up for the most part and leaves groomer Kendall's ass in the dust! It's when Roman starts dating Tabitha decades later that Kendall, who never actually made a move on Baby, brings hell and tragedy to the family. Baby's not so keen on continuing to have sex and the weird thing she has with Roman as he is with Tabitha around, so she becomes lonely and thoughtful in the need to reconnect with friends, maybe start dating herself. She's there during Tern Haven and can't go to Roman's room to hang out, Tabitha's there. She doesn't bother Shiv and Tom, she could talk with Frank, maybe? Maybe, but she makes her way to Kendall's room.

And whatever high horse Kendall put himself on for not doing anything with Baby, maybe not being in love with her - or at least having no awareness about it, whatever was starting with Naomi, it's gone when Baby enters that room.

Again, Tern Haven happens in Kendallwins!AU and the OG!AU. The only difference is that after, Roman is either successful in pulling Baby away from Kendall, or he isn't. This is where it can get confusing as it can with all the AUs because there's so many little splices of moments within content that really helps you understand how things happen but I can say that the Kendallwins!AU is just sad, scary, and dark.

But enough of that!

OG!DOGANDBONE!AU

After Roman's successful in getting Kendall away from Baby, he immediately breaks up with Tabitha and they heal from what happened. Kendall declines quickly during this. Logan dies and they get married after the GoJo sale. They have Baby Jr. On occasion, we'll have fun and write them having two more kids, Baby Jr Jr and Roman Jr, but they aren't canon - or they at least would get a canon fic like Baby

FICS TO HELP: Romulus Sneakers | Dad Frank feat. Baby Roman Call Them Brothers Back in Town Bone and Her Heart Roman’s a Friend Stealer While you were sleeping Touch Me (I'm Sick) Date Death | Part One Date Death Part 2 Babied (He Loves It) Violet, Blue, Green, Red To Keep Me Out Phone Call Home Baby Baby in “I went to Market” Baby in ‘Too Much Birthday’ After the GoJo Sale Telling Roman She's Pregnant

BABY JR

Baby Jr is an unrealistically perfect angel of a child that belongs to Roman and Baby in their AU and was born a preemie with a slew of health problems, but because I love her so much, it's becoming a running joke for her to just exist in every AU, somehow. if Baby's there, Baby Jr's there. She's named fittingly. You'll see her a lot in smaller blurbs and fics. Another running joke is that she hates Kendall in every AU, though she's barely mentioned outside of the OG! and Loganwins!AU.

JUST MY FAVORITE BABY JR FICS:

Baby Baby's First and Last Day at School Bear Baby Jr! Baby Jr Doing Something Dangerous Connor Taking Baby Jr Fishing Baby Jr seeing Baby Roman with Glasses

VARIATIONS OF THE OG!AU

They aren't mentioned a lot anymore because we don't get so serious about them and it was more just to have fun with the story, but the OG!AU does have some variations to how the plot goes. You have Baby and Roman having Baby Jr before season one where Tabitha and Tern Haven are things that obviously never happened:

If Roman Knocked Baby Up Logan Bullying Baby Jr YoungBornBabyJr!AU With Roman Forcing Baby to Marry Him Roman Drunk and Loving If Roman Knocked Baby Up in Their 20s If Baby Jr was Little in The Pilot Logan’s Baby Jr Favoritism Where’s Your Daughter?

Then, you have Baby dying and Roman killing himself to leave Baby Jr an orphan: Come Time, Baby Jr Missing Mommy.

Or you have Baby AND Baby Jr dying to leave Roman killing himself after his last moments of suffering…which, I can't find, but do we really want to read that?

If you don't want to suffer, it can end simply as a nightmare Roman had in the night. Here's another Nightmare Blurb.

LOGANWINS!AU

Listen. I CANNOT be the only person who has consistently written for Logan. I CANNOT! But I do and Baby is unfortunately the victim of a joke turned into a horniness for an old, old man.

Logan doesn't actually have a fic establishing the Loganwins!AU. Everything that's longer than a blurb are moments that already take place after they've gotten together. Tern Haven does not take place here because it appears that this…intimate relationship takes place before season one. Roman doesn't get together with Tabitha in this AU because he's really fucked up about his soulmate having sex and marriage with his…Dad. His abusive Dad. Baby Jr does exist here! This started as a joke to get people grossed out over old man Logan cock, I played it so I was DISGUSTED to appease any requests that were sent in. I really was. I don't know what happened. But a lot of what is written expands past Logan x Reader and more about the AU itself, which happens with Kendallwins! and the OG!AU too.

FICS TO HELP: THE OFFICE CONFRONTATION Mondale The Second Baseball Sick Baby Jr Mom(my) Siblings and Baby Jr Buzz off! Sister Shiv Recital Alone Baby Jr How Does The Relationship Begin? How Does Logan Propose? Are Baby and Roman Still Close? Pregnancy Announcement in the AU They Bought a Cat Who's Baby Jr's Godfather? Panty Stealer Roman's Twitter Argument

You guys are lucky I can't find the smut fic I wrote. But it's here on this blog. Somewhere.

Nvm here it is my bad: Reflections.

AFFAIR!AU

There's the Loganwins!AU, then there's the Affair!AU, which was established pretty recently. It's where Baby begins an affair with Roman while she's married to Logan and Baby Jr ends up being Roman's daughter, not his little sister. As much as I have accepted my great enjoyment in indulging the Logan lovers, I do think this is Baby at her most Succession.

She gets the benefits of being Logan's wife and his favorite wife, a cute daughter, Roman at her heel, whining for her to really be with him but knowing he'll never leave her at her denial. She's horrible, a whore. A baddie winning.

FICS TO HELP: Baby Jr being Roman's Daughter Roman and Newborn Baby Jr Baby in the Affair!AU Roman revealing she's his to his siblings "Dada" A Slight Confrontation How does it start? In Dad's Bed

GROOMING SITUATION (OG!AU and KENDALLWINS!AU)

So, I explained most of it above, but these are the fics to help understand just how messed up DogandBone!Kendall is. He's a different man, guys.

(Also Stewy was there. Stewy was her friend. A flawed twenty-something year old who didn't care enough to separate himself from Kendall when noticing the red flags of him and Baby, but he denied, denied, denied. But he also gave Baby some sense of being…ya know, a kid…cause he saw her as a CHILD)

Tern Haven:

Tern Haven EXTENDED TERN HAVEN More of Tern Haven (…Yay…)

Ken's Groomer Era:

Sleepover Drugged Up Heart Does Baby go Clubbing With Kendall? The Birthday (Big One) Kendall being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous More of Ken being Confused That Baby's Not Jealous Sleepover 2 Kendall's Birthday Gifts....

The Aftermath:

Smacktalking During Too Much Birthday Bad Bit

There's more, of course. There's always more.

KENDALLWINS!AU

After Tern Haven, Kendall has Baby. He's won Baby. He gets more addicted to drugs while making her dependent on them. He turns her into nothing - and just for him. He's scary and paranoid when it comes to Roman. A variation of the AU would be the Babydies!AU, where she accidently overdoses after he leaves her alone. It's a lot. This is not a fun AU, guys. But I like to write it!

FICS TO HELP:

Housewife Thing Waystar Press Conference Accusing Baby Jr of Not Being His Roman Trying to Get Baby Back From Kendall A Slight, Brotherly Confrontation Daily Does of Horror (Heroin) Mention of Heroin Handsy Baby and Kendall and Pills Panty Stealer Brother Roman's Dick Pics Saying Roman's Name Flower Delivery

THE OD FICS:

No Time Needled Memories

NOW....

SHIV'S AU

Shiv's AU isn't even a win!AU, technically. We haven't really dabbled in the idea of her winning. Just more of her yearning, but all in all, this woman wants Baby soooo badly. Too sad she has the guilt of being a woman. And her father. And Tom. And the denial hot on her skin.

Calling Shiv Shiv

TOM'S AU

Apparently the man can get obsessed and they haven't even kissed in his AU, yet. Fitting considering the shit he pulls with Greg. It's Baby at her most guilty due to her friendship with Shiv.

KARL'S AU

No.

STEWY'S AU

I give crumbs and only crumbs. But we're getting something started with Wedding Bells (Part One)!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.

I hope this helps! xoxo

#inbox #hc's #drabble #dog and bone!au #roman roy x reader #succession fanfiction

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scarletttries · 1 year ago

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"What's An Office Crush?" (Roman Roy Succession Request)

Pairing: Roman Roy (Succession) x Reader

Request: " What about Roman and "how do i know if i have a crush on someone?" "well, you can't stop thinking about them, you feel strange when they're around, and then you want to-wait why are you looking at me like that.?""

Word Count: 1.3k of pure fluff

Author's Note: Thank you for this very cute request, it was nice to think of something so wonderfully fluffy for our boy Roman :)

"What's An Office Crush?"

It happened every Friday morning like clockwork, from the day you'd been in the same meeting room as Roman, until the day you retired (if Waystar ever lets that happen.) He'd find you at your desk about an hour after you started, coffee in hand, pretending this is something he does for employees all the time, not a completely out of character act. He'll wheel an office chair beside yours and watch you sort through emails, telling you about his week and his weekend plans, asking about yours. Sometimes he catches himself about to ask if you want to catch lunch or dinner together on the weekend, unsure why the thought crosses his mind and dismissing it as just an empty offer to keep the conversation going.

Roman has a lot of thoughts about you that he finds confusing. Like when he realises it's only Wednesday, stomach dropping because he's sure it should be Friday and time to see you again by now. Or how every so often he'll think of something you've said and smile out of nowhere, his heart skipping a beat uncomfortably in a way he writes off as indigestion despite the obvious pattern of only happening when you sneak up on his thoughts. And since when did he did find himself staring at his friend's hands, thinking about how they'd feel holding his? Was he worried you were going to get lost in a crowd or something? Each of these dozens of fleeting thoughts about you left Roman entirely baffled by your friendship, but pulling up a chair every Friday all the same.

"He's going to be in the office today! I saw Jess setting up his office earlier." The girl from the desk next to yours was positively buzzing with excitement at the possibility of catching even a brief glance of Kendall Roy today. He hadn't been in the office much lately, which only left your smitten office-mate more frantic in her efforts to look her best for the days when they might share a charged moment and the rest would be history. By the time Roman approached your desk with his usual caffeine-filled offering, you'd relented to painting a shimmering top coat over the love-struck girl's nails, knowing what it's like to want a Roy brother and thinking she could have married Kendall in the time it's taking for Roman to make a move. She was a giggling mess of nerves as she thanked you and pranced away, probably to stand absentmindedly near a lift, in case Kendall was going past your floor alone.

"What was all that about?" Roman's lips pursed together in distaste as you waved your new friend goodbye, his mind trying to reconcile his dissatisfaction at seeing you laugh and smile with someone else.

"I was just helping with her nails - her office crush is here today, so she's got to look her best." You fought to keep your eyes on your screen as you uttered the word 'crush', sure if you looked at Roman when you said it, the blush in your cheeks would give everything away.

"What's an office crush?" He quizzed, brow furrowed as he sipped his coffee, watching your neighbour disappear through glass lined corridors. You laughed at his suspicious glare as you matter-of-factly explained,

"It's just someone at work you have a crush on. You know, to keep the day interesting? Give you a reason to put on your best dress, even though you're just going to work." Roman's eyes trailed over the shirt he'd bought especially with a Friday in mind, horrified by this new information, thinking aloud as he turned the information over in his head,

"An office crush? Sounds fun. How do I know if I have a crush on someone?" The question caught you off-guard, your gaze drifting from your keyboard to the man beside you, who suddenly looked almost sheepish, his usual cocky mask shed for a moment of genuine curiosity. You mulled it over for a moment, trying to think of how best to explain a crush without outright describing the way his coffee visits had made you feel.

"Well, usually you can't stop thinking about them. Even if you're not with them, and there's nothing around that actually reminds you of them. They just pop into your head and make you smile, even from the other side of the city." You were sure you could hear Roman gulp as you spoke, continuing all the same, praying silently that no-one was coming to mind for him.

"And you feel strange when they do pop in your thoughts, and even stranger when they're actually around. Like, you have to think extra hard about everything you do, but things with them feel effortless at the same time, and your stomach and heart don't know how to handle that so they make you feel like you're dying, but also like you're truly alive for the first time. You start to crave that feeling, more and more, until you're looking for reasons to see them just to chase that unsettling joy. And you wonder what it'd be like to be closer than you are, and what their hand would feel like in yours, and you want to--- Roman why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes had grown wider with each sweet word, the answer to the riddles that had plagued for weeks finally being spelt out to him by the very person he needed to hear it from most. As if to bolster your argument his heart hammered against his ribs, his mouth hanging open as the crushing weight of the realisation shook him to his core. His eyes darted to your hand as you turned to squarely face him, trying to read his startled expression, and hoping it didn't mean there was someone else crossing his mind in all their crush-worthy glory.

"Uhh, it's nothing. That all sounds terrible." He stumbled over his words as he tried to regain his footing, running his fingers through his slicked back hair, as if trying to physically pull himself together. "Completely unrelated, do you want to have dinner together- tonight?" It was his turn to watch you try and process some information, his nervous expression doing a lot of heavy lifting as you tried to fight back a smirk at the confession.

"I'd like that. On one condition." He was clearly intrigued, gesturing for you to keep talking, mentally prepared to sign over half his kingdom to you if you asked. "You have to tell me who your office crush is." He rolled his eyes as you stifled a laugh at the leading question, watching him trying to form the perfect sarcastic retort, but instead deciding to take your acceptance for all it was worth. He set down his coffee and slowly slid his hand across your desk, pausing for a split second as if waiting for your retreat, before happily setting his hand on yours where it remained still.

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." A fleeting, but real, smile flashed across his face as you shifted your hand to further embrace his, agreeing before nodding towards your neighbour's desk and confessing,

"It's actually the same as hers," just in time for Kendall Roy to stroll past the glass walls of your office, your colleague practically falling over herself as she tagged alongside him, neither of them noticing the laughter erupting from the two Waystar colleagues holding hands on the other side of the glass.

#writing #fanfiction #one shot #requests #roman roy angst #roman roy fluff #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy #succession imagine #succession hbo #succession #roman succession

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bowieandqueen11 · 2 years ago

Text

Kissing Kendall Roy Would Include...

Request: idk if the Kendall Roy request is still open but like; i know it sounds silly but just kissing him. Just always kissing him whenever you can reach at the time. his hands while he hands you a glass of wine while youre sittin on the couch? sure. top of his head from behind? you got it. his eyelids when hes slowly waking up? amazing. under the jaw after straightening up his collar? lovely. on the chest after the shower? hot. cheeks so he doesnt cry? the cutest. just how can you stop when its HIM-

BABE I am YEARING god you are so real for this I want to cry I- Also ty ty for doing my job for me and giving me legit all the amazing headcanons inspo ily fr <3

NOT ME WRITING 4.1K OF KISSING KENDALL HEADCANONS LMAOO anyway I went a bit overboard and this took quite a while to write, so please please let me know if you enjoy! :) Thank you!

Warning: Kissing, racy kissing, some heavily implied NSFW, mentions of drinking and smoking and a little strong language! Although not explicit, I’m going to go with 18+ on this one please!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @technicolourtelevision.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Hngghhhh I want to kiss Kendall Roy so bad like?? His little dopey eyes and his sweet as seduction smile and his perfectly squidgy cheeks and those sad plump lips like frick Logan and the cycle of abuse Kendall Roy was invented for kissing pls-

Your first kiss happened when the two of you were sixteen: Shiv and Roman had been shipped off for the day to some yacht event their mother was hosting in England, and so the usually imposing mansion seemed all the more eerie when you slipped into its hall. Trawling through the rooms, you peered through ornate doorway after empty doorway to find nothing other than freshly beaten rugs and expensive looking vases crowding the place. Little did you know, as you snuck into one of the Roy’s ‘entertainment rooms’ in the west wing of the second floor, that Kendall was similarly as bored as you were; finally being given a break from listening in to his father’s conference calls, it wasn’t long until Ken decided to investigate the weird sound of talking coming from down a couple of corridors. He came trawling in to see you looking surprised, sitting hunched up on the floor and watching some kind of 00s looking rom-com on the flat screen television. He smiled fondly, not surprised to see you, and came dawdling over until he was perched politely down in front of the settee beside you. His freshly pressed brown trousers brushed against your own as his knee came to rest against your own, and he didn’t even hesitate to reach into your open backpack and pull out a couple of sweets you had smuggled into the Roy residence.

There had always been something between the two of you, ever since you had met as neighbouring children almost ten years ago now. A stolen glance. A kiss on the cheek when the two of you departed to plod sadly back home. A missed bite on the lip when the two of you waved and ran over to hug each other after only a few days apart. Kendall cradling himself and always beelining straight for your arms when his father had yelled at him again. Even so, while the two of you sat staring at the television screen without even really seeing it, it took Ken quite a lot of courage to try and make his feelings a little better known. Taking inspiration from the way the character flashing before his tired eyes had grasped onto the protagonist’s hand in some desperate plea of true love, Kendall tentatively spread his fingers out like a sprouting vine until they bumped against your own. He didn’t even turn his head when he planted them gingerly down on top of your own, but his fingertips shook nonetheless. It took you a great deal of bravery as well to rest your elbow back on the cushion as if you were going for a yawn, before letting your own fingers fall back down against the nape of his neck. Uncertainly, you hold your breath, and hear Kendall’s hitch as you play with a few strands of the hair poking out just above his cream cable-knit jumper. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his hand claw where it’s resting on his inner thigh.

Before you can even register your shock, Ken’s torso has turned and he’s leapt at you, clumsily knocking you backwards. Luckily his hands have already shot out to grasp behind your back, so you manage not to bruise yourself against his ferocity, but it doesn’t stop you from gasping as Kendall clambers over your body like a shoot reaching for the sunlight. The overwhelming rush of love gushed through him like the course of a river as he overtook you, his lips frantically latching and smothering and pulling against your own until you couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel. All there was in that moment was Kendall, his legs sliding between your own and the throb of his plump lips as they graced over every inch of your mouth they could latch onto.

He only pulled away, most unfortunately in a state of fear driven panic when the door pounded open and the scowl of his father thundered across the doorway. It was the first time Logan had ever caught him in the act of showing true, unforced, fully felt love, and so for a while after that Kendall retreats back into himself. Feeling the lash, feeling the sting of his father’s disdain, he becomes more cautious about allowing himself to indulge in the one thing he’s ever truly wanted in his life.

He tries his best to pull himself away from you - but it’s like an invisible tide, slowly swallowing him whole again until he’s lost in the warm tides, the glimmers of you breaking through the blue bounds like shards of sunlight and free air. He tries his best to smother it, or to drink and smoke the hole in his chest away, but even then it doesn’t do the trick: he has to steal one more kiss from you before he goes away to college, and then he can release you from the hell scape that is his life. A few hours before he’s due to head off for his first term, you enter his bedroom to find Roman rummaging through the last few half-packed boxes, searching for technology he can steal from his brother. You ask him where Ken is, and he gives you a ‘I wouldn’t even fucking bother, I’ve already tried to talk to him’ raise of his eyebrow and shrugs, titling his head slightly towards the bedroom’s balcony. That’s all the invitation you need to slide open the gliding doors and step out into the cold breeze, shivering as a few drops of rain brush off from the drooping trees that dance over the railings.

Kendall’s sitting on one of the lounge chairs: his legs are pulled up to his chest, and his arms are tightly clasped around them. He has headphones on, and as you come to sit beside him, you realise that his chin is tucked into the gap between the legs and he’s crying quietly to himself. He startles when he feels your pressure against his side, but neither of you say a word. You just already know that his heart is broken. And he knows there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can say that will stop him from being the shadow latched onto his father’s shoe. He’s tired. Of his father. Of his life. Of being a Roy. Of not being able to be with you in the way he so desperately begs for at night. So, before he gets into the limo you can see rambling down the stone-spitting drive, Kendall Roy kisses you for the second time. And in his mind, he believes it to be the last. You can taste his salty tears as he tenderly leans his head over, the slight pressure against your mouth making the lines on your forehead deepen. For a moment, your mouth opens in a gasp and Ken takes the opportunity to brush the front of his tongue against your own. But then the limo pulls up outside the front door and honks its horn, and Ken pulls away with a sigh. Before he leaves, he sorrowfully lets his forehead fall against the top of your own, and he sniffles for a few seconds as he desperately tries not to choke on his tears.

Then he just gets up and leaves. He can’t even bear to look backwards. It just hurts too much, even though he feels his heart being bruised and broken with each step away from you he takes.

Thankfully for Kendall, you’re not going to give up on him. You’ll stay by his side through thick and thin, keeping as his best friend throughout his adult years. If he can’t allow himself to love fully, and freely at the moment, that’s fine. The time will come for the two of you. The time will come when he’s no longer scrambling for that knife in the mud. The time will come when he’s the victor, and he can bend and snap the rules at his own will and fancy.

Besides, soulmates always found their way back to each other in the end.

It takes quite a few years for Ken to finally admit you’re the love of life. Until his mother’s wedding in a beautiful, if slightly dusty, hamlet in Southern Tuscany. Like a flower blossoming out of the cracks of a dull grave, he breaks down in front of his siblings on that sun-dried street. How much he ‘fucking loves you’ and ‘fucking misses you’, and that he’s a ‘coward’, so it’s no surprise that when you come wandering past one of the orange backhouses trying to find Ken, Roman and Shiv give each other a look and decide to give the two of you a moment alone before calling for a car. When you spot him sitting alone, shivering, looking as if life had just stomped on him and left him a quivering mess by the bins, your heart just crumbles.

He barely moves when you come to settle down on the dirt beside him. He just stays flopped like a ragdoll, his hands shaking where they rest over his knees. After a moment or two of you just allowing him to settle into a safe silence, he begins to wrangle his hands together nervously: a sure sign that he’s about to start sobbing. So you do the only thing you can think of in that moment, without breaking him into a million pieces. You lean sideways, and press a gentle kiss against the top of his stubble line, the skin warm and scratchy under your touch. He finally musters the courage to take a glance at you then, and from the sheer emotion that wallows in the pained look he gives you, you just know. He can’t hide it anymore. It has to come out, whether he can admit to it or not. Ken opens his mouth, a gasp rushing in as if his whole lungs are about to tumble out, and you jump at the opportunity. Before he can drown you lunge forward and latch onto his lips, right where a stray beam of sunlight is resting. He’s quick to reach up and cup your face, turning his head sideways so he could better wipe his bottom lip against the edge of your mouth. He cinched you to him, a shiver rolling down his spine as a few stray tears rolled their way down the bridge of his nose. The heat of the sun starts to burn against the back of your head but you couldn’t care less, because Ken has started laughing breathlessly, hysterically against your open mouth. It’s almost as if strangled devotions are about to choking their way up his throat, but you quickly silence him once more, and he falls, for the first time in his life, easily against you.

Thankfully, kisses after that afternoon come much more freely - especially the languished ones on your wedding night. I mean, he’s waited far too many years for this moment, so Ken manages to sneak you away from the party and bridal carries you up the staircase and into the newlywed suite of the fancy estate. You bite the edge of his bottom lip as he places you down on the bed, his chest already heaving just from the slightest dance of your hands as they slide under his shoulders and shove the suit jacket off of his shoulders. Messily, hungrily, fervently, he crawls over the duvet and clinks his teeth desperately against your own. Once he’s above you, he uses a free hand to rustle underneath the rustled layers of your dress until he finds the square of bare skin where your upper thigh meets your buttocks. He scratches his fingernails teasingly underneath your panty line and squeezes firmly, making you groan into his awaiting mouth. He smiles, both fondly but with a hint of smugness, as takes your free hands and lifts them up towards his shirt buttons, guiding you to undo them with a heavenly pop after pop. He swears in that moment, as your hands glide out over his abdomen and massages the sides of his pecs, he would be content to die in your arms right there and then.

Kissing to wake him up every morning is literally what bliss must feel like. At six on the dot, you lean over on your side and gently kiss the top of his eyelids until they sleepily flutter awake. Bless his heart, the first thing he does every morning now is automatically smile; his arm reaches out onto your side of the bed before he’s even fully awake, seeking you out. It always makes you laugh, when his hand finally grips onto the side of your waist and tugs you further against him, because it was a little habit that had grown since your childhood years. When Kendall managed to sneak you in through his bedroom window, unable to sleep soundly by himself in his own bed, he would always start out feeling so self-conscious. Lying on his side, he faced out towards the open opaqueness and gilded shadows of his hollow room, his hands bunched up under his pillow. Even though he used to leave nearly a mile between the two of you on the silk sheets, he was so hyper-aware of making you uncomfortable: of scaring you off, if any part of him touched you. By the morning though, he always managed to kick and crawl and scrabble across the bed in his sleep. Although he was still to conscious to hold you fully, you would wake up to feel an intense pressure against the top of your back. Kendall’s head would be stoutly impressed upon your shoulder blade, his hands curled up and tucked against the small of your back and his legs raised against your hips as if he were a child curling up against his mother.

Now, though, Kendall’s finally content. He’s finally able to open up, to indulge himself in the only thing he’s ever truly wanted. He allows his cheeky side, his Roman-esque side to shine through by lulling you into a false sense of security. After a few minutes of you cradling his head against your bosoms and pressing kiss after kiss against the expanse of his head, he’ll jump up and pounce at you. You squeal as you scramble for an escape, trying to kick him off as you throw your hands to the floor and try to run your way towards the kitchen. He’s quicker though: not even a second passes before his arms tighten like a vice around your abdomen and he’s blowing wet raspberries against your throat. So infantile, so uninhibited, he drags you kicking and giggling back towards him so he can latch onto your bag and spoon you for a little while longer. You don’t complain when you feel him settle behind him, the heaviness of his leg as it reaches up and clambers against your own a welcome comfort. So is the feeling of his loving lips wiping a fond kiss against the nape of your neck.

Mhhh you bet those domestic kisses are godlike baby! The whole time you’re sliding around the kitchen trying to dump the takeout the two of you had decided to order on a tired whim onto plates, he’s holding you. His hands are thrumming against your waist as he presses against you from behind, singing into your ear a song the two of used to dance around to when you were younger. Every time you think he’s finally pulling away to maybe, you know, help by getting some cutlery or dumping the empty boxes in the recycling, he appears again to tickle you by licking gently behind your ear. You try to swat him off with a laugh, but that only seems to spur him on; the man is literally so deliriously happy he could cry. This. This domesticity. This fondness. This trust. You. It’s all he’s ever yearned for. Spent his younger years dreaming about. So you bet your ass he’s going to come sneaking up back behind you so he can tremble against your back as he pulls down the back of your shirt and leaves a few hickies proudly littered behind along your shoulder.

When the two of you finally settle at the dining room table to eat, to talk naturally like you’ve done a million times before over the years, you actually manage to surprise Kendall. Using your foot, you catch the edge of his sleek charcoal chair and pull him closer to you until he’s sitting by your side. It makes it far easier to grasp onto him when he shakily pours you a glace of wine and hands it to you, and definitely is a far more satisfying viewpoint to see how his tears well up when you take the wine glass from him and place it passively on the table. Unclenching his hand, you slowly kiss each knuckle one by one, raising them up to your mouth in the way someone may kiss royalty. He’s giddily smiling when you rub your thumb over the back of his hand, and he refuses to let go of you, even while he’s eating. As he turns back to try and cut up his noodles with the edge of his fork, you compassionately pretend you don’t notice him turn his head away from you for a moment, so he may sneakily try and wipe his eyes on the corner of his shirt.

On tougher days: when things haven’t been going well at Waystar, or his siblings have decided to barge in and try to stir up some new unwanted drama in his life, the sweetness and tentativeness of shower kisses are Kendall’s favourite. He will actually melt into a puddle of goo if you hold onto him, allowing him a moment to feel safe as the water cascades down and burns against his clenched eyes. He finds it difficult to be around water, so he may be a little panicky, but the feel of you wrapping yourself around his naked torso always manages to calm him straight down again. That is, until he gulps heavily at the feel of your lips kissing a trail up his inner chest to come tease with soft bites against his pulse point. He’ll wrap his arms around the curve of your spine, running them gingerly up and down as if he can’t believe this is still really happening.

When you rinse out his hair, he finally comes back to himself and blinks in amusement when you try to wipe away a few of the leftover suds from the tip of his nose with a short kiss.

Bro I mean- it also helps him immensely when he finally just like... snaps. When he can no longer hold back the growing pounding against the dam of his heart, and the desire that’s been eating him alive ever since he was a teenager comes cascading out. In a split second, your hands have been removed from where they were running soapy circles against his oblique muscles, and he’s pinned them harshly above your head. Taking a step towards you, he traps you against the steaming glass of the shower while his tongue explores the inside of your mouth. He pulls away, panting, before lowering himself onto his knees and kissing the inside of your thighs as he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder.

Sometimes you make him jump with your kisses, no matter how well intentioned they are. Kendall hates having to work inside his dad’s old office: suffocated by the smells, the sights, the overwhelming life that still bursts forth from the space and haunts Kendall, even in death. To try and help him relax, you’ll come sneaking in to kiss the back of his head, making him jump a country mile. With a smirk, he drops his phone down onto the desk and leans backwards slowly, raising his arm up until it latches onto the back of your head. Langurous, he leans his head back against the headrest until you fall down and softly press your mouth against his. Even though he can see Gerri and Karl give each other an unimpressed side-eye glance, he honestly couldn’t care less. In the end, Kendall would give all this up: everything he’s worked his whole life to accomplish. In the end, he couldn’t give a fuck if he made his father proud, if he was competent enough to earn being a Roy, if he lived up to the mantle of being the second-born eldest son. Of being the favourite. Because in the end, all Kendall Roy actually wants is you.

Being CEO also comes with its perks, though, like you being able to straddle Kendall’s waist and sit on his lap, the two of you squeezed into Logan’s old chair. His groans can reverberate hoarsely throughout the empty floor after ‘lights out’, only the poor cleaners being left to see the blinds to his office shake as something hits against them. With an unceremonious thump, the tie you had loosened and thrown falls onto a shelf full of open binders, soon followed by Ken’s shirt. He fidgets underneath you, bucking his legs up when you begin sucking against the bottom of his jaw, and it fills you with great pleasure to feel his hands clutching desperately into the meat of your hips.

The sweetest kisses shared are up on the company’s roof. Sometimes Ken is just having an off day, mentally, and needs some time to decompress away from everyone else. No matter where you may be in the building: no matter if you may be in a meeting, or at your desk, or just hanging around the breakroom listening to Tom and Cousin Greg discussing something with heated whispers in the corner, Kendall comes lumbering in looking crestfallen and immediately dismisses everyone in the immediate vicinity. They all scramble off like cockroaches, and Ken reaches out to take your hand. You offer it willingly, knowing what’s going on when he starts fiddling with the edges of your fingers. He folds into you in the elevator, clasping onto you and tucking into your side as you hold him against you, stroking back his hair. When the two of you finally arrive on the wide stretch of beige concrete, and no one can see him be weak, Kendall allows you to guide him down until he’s sitting between your legs. He leans back against your chest, squeezing his eyes shut and gripping onto your legs as he simultaneously feels the sharp sting of the wind and the feel of your lips against his temples.

Kisses at events are actually the best no joke like those married life vibes are off the chart. When Connor and Willa decide to have another, smaller vow ceremony in front of immediate family, everyone (even Shiv finally relents) thinks the two of you look so cute. Holding each other close at the edge of the country estate’s freshly manicured lawn, the fresh crunch of the dewy grass underneath your shoes is a welcome relief against the burn of Kendall’s hand as it caresses your own, holding it up by his side. The two of you can barely make each other’s eyes, falling into a fit of euphoric, infantile giggles that makes the other wedding guests stop and stare confusedly at the two of you. The kind glow of the varnished barn lanterns brushes over you and Kendall’s blushing cheeks, the lace-like wood work that winds up their edges illuminating over your bodies and making the two of you glow like you were sublime. Like a fool madly in love, he keeps snatching looks at you with that big, soppy smile of his, before pressing a kiss against your forehead. He leaves his chin there, sighing in contentment as he pulls your shared hand over till it’s resting against his heart, and continues swaying the two of you back and forth.

Ken has adopted this adorable little habit of letting you know when he wants kisses. He dips his head and looks at you like a forgotten puppy, taking your jaw in his hands and stroking his thumbs over your bottom lip and man does it just make you melt and indulge him straight away.

I mean my man has a literal lifetimes of kisses to make up for, and I’ll be damned if he isn’t going to grab onto every opportunity he can. Every touch, every caress feels like a fresh spring breeze, like sunlight caressing the curling corners of a brand new flower, like the cascading glimmers of light falling through the vastness of an unsurmountable ocean. It’s a renewal of life. Of hope. And in all honesty, it’s the main thing keeping the real Kendall Roy alive.

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succcession · 2 years ago

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Kendall Roy ♡ Smut Headcanons

Okay sooo starting strong and maybe controversial but i think Kendall might umm cum kinda fast. But, even if did last a normal/good amount of time I think he would always be insecure that he finished too quickly.

Sooo because of that little insecurity I think he would always! try to go down on you after he came. Like, even if he just made you cum 3x on his dick he would still be like “come on baby just one more” as he's kissing your clit because he's just so worried about making you feel good!

Kendall being into toys just makes sense to me. Like he definitely would want to try handcuffs. Mostly on you, but I can see him wanting to be handcuffed while you suck his dick or ride him.

He would loveeee to hold a vibrator on your clit until you push him away or literal tears start falling and your screaming “Kendall please oh my god, I- cant-”

I think Kendalls main kink would just be trying to make you cum as much as he can! It would be so reassuring for him that even if he was a fuck up in other ways at least he could make you cum 5x in one night.

That would keep him going on hard days haha just picturing you waiting for him naked at home.

We ALL know Kendall would be a huge fan of car sex. Gently stroking and squeezing your thigh while you're on your way to some fancy event. Slowly inching his fingers higher, until he starts lightly brushing his fingers tips against your clit.

He wouldn’t even look at you while he teased you, keeping his focus straight ahead. Would probably do it while he was on the phone. Slowly making you come undone while he talked to Stewy or a possible new investor.

On the drive home he would purposefully make you moan as loud as possible. Secretly, hoping the driver could hear everything he was doing to you.

I think he would be into taking a shower together after you guys have sex. He just wants to hold you in his arms under the hot water for at least 20 minutes straight.

“Ken maybe we shouldn’t use all the hot water”

“Babe, I don't know if you know this but I’m fucking rich. I’ll have hot water flown in from fucking underwater volcanoes if it means i can hold you longer.”

Then he would wash every single part of your body so gently and soft with soap that probably costs the same as your rent in NYC. Definitely stopping to suck on your nipples, and squeeze your ass

Since a relationship with Kendall might be a bit on/off, make up sex might be a frequent occurrence. Sometimes it would feel like he was trying to start a fight just so you could have rough sex after.

But once you figured out his little game you started teasing him and not giving in so easily. At first Kendall was pissed. I mean, the poor man already feels so out of control in his life he at least liked getting to be dominant in the bedroom. However, that was until the first time you actually got him to beg to cum.

You were on top riding him and every time he got close to the edge you would stop.

“fuck baby don't stop I’m gonna cum”

as soon as he said that your hips halted. Teasing in his ear “aww baby did you wanna cum in me? Not yet” you did that 3x more times until eventually Kendalls eyes were rolling back and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing your hips and holding you while he fucked up into you, cumming sooo deep inside.

Ever since that moment occasionally he would let you take control but usually he was the dominate one

Kendall has fantasies of you waking him up with head, and would drop not so subtle hints about it. “Yeah, I think I could just increase my performance if I started everyday with like an orgasm”

His favorite thing in the world is to receive a random nude from you while he's at work but would want it to be kinda special. Like you have on fancy lingerie or you’re taking a bath. Something more than just a mirror pic, but he would gladly take that too!

My brain is just a montage of Radiohead Mitski Kendall edits right now, I could keep going forever! Enjoy♡

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession #succession season 4 #kendall roy smut #kendall roy headcanon #succession smut #succession headcanons

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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

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giving kendall roy a blowjob pls

i have a fic about this here buuuttt i've been so down bad for ken lately and am embarrassed to say i literally dropped all my WIPs to also write this. inspired by this gif from @technicolourtelevision. also please follow my succ sideblog if u are a kendall girlie like myself @kendollroyco!

warnings: smut under the cut (18+ only, oral sex m receiving, degradation, dom!kendall - sorry but i want him to be mean to me) not proofread, and potentially just bad -- i wrote this in like a 30 minute fugue state.

first off, where you do this is kind of important because there are sooooo many good opportunities. maybe you work for him and he's making you suck him off under your desk, his hand down the front of your blouse. you have to go to the bathroom after to clean yourself up because your mascara is smudged and he's ruined your hair. or maybe you're on your knees for him in the back of a car, and he's refusing to roll up the partition. the straps of the gown you've got on are falling off your shoulders, and you're worried about getting caught but he's shoving your head down and he's whispering shit like 'but you're taking it anyways, aren't you?' and you can't help but moan as he shifts his hips so you take him even deeper.

but REALLY what i think about is like, in the most recent episode when he talks about not sleeping well. you're his girlfriend who lives with him, but you hardly see him. and one night when he comes home late you can just tell he's tense, like, ready to snap at anyone who gets in his way. you're curled up wearing one of his old harvard sweatshirts maybe watching tv or looking at your phone and he looks so fucking good in one of those suits that fits him like a glove.

when you ask him how he's doing, he's short and snippy. 'fine.'

'you stressed or something?' you ask, rather than start an argument.

'fuckin', uh, i don't know, what does it look like?'

you're sort of taken aback by how rude his response it, standing over you with his hands on his hips. 'don't tell me you waited up this late for me....' he's trying to chastise you, but you can see right through him.

'you're working too much' you sit up.

'uh-huh, right. i don't want to hear your shit right now, i'm fuckin' exhausted-' and he's trying to be mean, to push you away.

'i bet. all you do is toss and turn at night,' you agree.

you reach out, hook your fingers around the cool silver of his belt buckle and yank. he steps forward, even if his eyebrows are still pinched together, his lips curled down into a frown.

'i could give you something that might help.'

by the time you've pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his face has neutralized, even though his hands are still on his hips. you drop to your knees, ignoring the chill of the italian marble. he smiles a little, then, puts a hand on top of your head.

you don't go slow, you don't want to, and he doesn't let you. he pulls your hair and jerks his hips into your mouth. you take him all, using your hands to spread the slick from gagging on him several times around. of course, he talks you through it, tells you exactly what to do and how he wants it in that deep, raspy voice, which only gets deeper when he's turned on.

'god, you're such a fucking slut.'

and you don't care about looking pretty while you blow him. no, you might normally try to be cute about it, but when he's mean it only makes you more feral. you choke and gasp until tears run from the corner of your eyes and you're drooling, straddling his foot and grinding yourself against his black prada oxford's.

you whine and mewl around him, mouth so full the noises are unintelligible. 'you're so pathetic,' he groans, looking down at you, and you can tell he's getting close because his voice doesn't have the same conviction as before. 'that's it, atta girl, just take it.'

the more you allow yourself to get into it, the more turned on you get. the more turned on you are, the more desperate and filthy you want to feel. it just keeps building, compounding. until you take him just a little too far and retch. 'easy, easy.' kendall pulls back, his voice stern.

glancing up, he almost looks concerned. he scolds you. 'control yourself.'

you're pissed that it nearly sobers you up. 'shhh,' you hiss, swat his hand away from where it's landed on your cheek.

'okay, fine, if you fuckin' want it that bad.' his fingers fist the back of your head again.

immediately, you wrap your lips back around his cock. you use both hands to jerk him while you suck on his tip, bobbing your head and humming around him.

he gets quiet, and that's your cue. he's not great at using his words when he's about to come, but it's a good indication to keep up the rhythm you've built and not stop under any circumstances.

'uh-huh, that's-fuck!' ken makes sure he's buried in the back of your throat when he comes, hard, his hips stilling their movements, but he keeps your head in place with both his hands until he's sure you've swallowed everything he has to give you.

at some point, you pull away and slump against the back of the couch. your eyes are watering, your face feels impossibly hot, and your jaw aches. it's hard to see straight, so you cover your eyes with your hand.

'jesus,' kendall mutters your name.

you peek at him between your fingers to see him squat down. now he's on the same level as you. he moves your hand away from your face, a look of genuine curiosity etched in his features. you'd never blown him like that before. 'where'd that come from, sweetheart?'

'it's dumb,' you shake your head, a little embarrassed. 'i listened to this podcast...'

the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, hand under your chin so you are forced to look at him. 'uh-huh?' he asks. 'at home all day fuckin' uh....taking notes on how to give me good head?'

'shut up,' you go to smack his head away, feeling a new warmth rise to your cheeks, but he grabs your wrist and hauls you against his chest, nose poking into your hair, lips on your cheek.

'is there, uh, anything else they had to say on there i might be interested in learning about?'

'potentially,' you answer. 'if you have all night...'

he laughs, a comforting rumble right into your ear. 'i do.'

#idk what it is but like there is something about this man's manic dick i cannot stop thinking about #like this is so disgusting i'm hiding myself in shame rn #asks #writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #succession writing #kendall roy smut

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the-west-meadow · 2 years ago

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hi! hope youre doing good! could I request Lukas Matsson x reader fic with the prompt “why are you awake right now”

im in love with your writing!

so thankful for the Lukas love. got carried away again, 18+ only!!

Lukas Matsson x (fem) Reader

prompt: Why are you awake right now? 18+ ONLY

In an unexpected twist, you spent your first night in Stockholm stranded at Lukas Matsson’s estate with the Roys. A torrent of icy rain had made travel to your hotel nearly impossible, so Lukas had diverted you to his house. He called it your welcome party to Sweden.

At two in the morning, you were still wide awake. You could hear the sound of a TV from behind Roman’s door, Shiv on the phone with Tom, and total silence from Kendall’s room. As his assistant, you were basically always on call. At least for now, you were off the hook and free to roam.

The house was otherwise quiet, with the sound of icy rain pelting the roof. You wandered the dark halls barefoot. Of course the concrete floors were heated. Beyond dark kitchen, the light of a TV flickered from the another room. You peered inside then froze, looking in at Lukas himself, reclining on the sofa in only a white tank top and shorts. You started to turn and creep away, but it was too late.

“Is the TV too loud?”

You stepped into the room hesitantly, self-conscious in just a t-shirt and shorts.

“No, it’s fine. I just got lost… on the way to the bathroom.”

“There’s one in your room.”

“Right.”

He gave you a curious glance.

“Why are you awake right now?”

“Jet lag. I never sleep anyway.”

Lukas nodded knowingly.

“I’ve never met anyone I respect who sleeps well.”

He gestured towards the TV.

“Well, I’m watching Swedish dramas if that interests you.”

You padded into the room. There was no where to sit but on the sofa with Lukas. Tucking your legs beneath you, you took a seat at the far end. You blinked at the screen, where two Swedish detectives leaned over a body.

“I don’t speak Swedish,” you said.

“It’s okay. I’ll explain. By the way, have you tried any of our snacks yet?”

He held out a bag of gummies and you took one, examining it.

“What is it?”

“Bilar. It’s supposed to be shaped like a car.”

“It looks like a rabbit.”

"Yeah. Now that you mention it."

“What is that?” you asked, pointing at his soda bottle.

“Julmust. It’s soda we drink at Christmas.”

“It’s April.”

“I guess I don’t do things like normal people.”

“I could have told you that.”

He gave you another curious look, which turned into a grin.

“Sorry,” you said. “Jet lag. My filter is gone.”

“It’s okay. I've never had a filter. It gets me in trouble a lot.”

He gave you another glance.

“So can we agree to pass over all that small talk bullshit?”

“Fine with me. I don’t have the energy for it.”

“You can hit me if I say something shitty.”

“Sounds like you have something in mind.”

He sat up, putting aside the soda and candy.

“I could have gotten you guys a ride to your hotel. But I wanted you to stay here.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t know when we’ll have a chance like this again.”

His eyes passed over your bare legs. His arm was spread along the back of the sofa, lingering close to your shoulder. You felt the heat flush into your face. You had caught the looks he gave you at various events with the Roys, and yet this was the first time you had found yourself alone with him.

“Why didn’t you come to my room?”

“I wanted you to come to me.”

You stretched out your legs, grazing his lap.

"I've got all this energy I don't know what to do with," you said.

He slid one hand up your calf, creeping along your thigh. His eyes were fixed on you, watching your reaction.

"I think I can help with that," he said.

You took a sharp breath as his hand pivoted to the inside of your thigh.

“I think the others are still awake,” you whispered.

“Then you’ll have to be very quiet.”

He gently took hold of your ankle, pulling you towards him. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling him between your thighs, just the thin fabric of your shorts separating your skin from his.

“Do you think you can be quiet?” he asked, eyeing your lips, your neck.

“I’m usually not.”

He let out a low breath, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I wish I could hear that,” he said.

“What about you?” you asked, grinding into his lap. He tilted his head back, letting out a low moan.

“Shh,” you said, then leaned over him, taking his head in your hands. As you kissed him, you felt him grind against you from below, growing harder. He grabbed your hair suddenly, pulling your head back.

“Whoever breaks first loses,” he said. You grinned into his lips.

“Deal.”

In one movement, he picked you up and lay you down on the sofa. He pulled off your shorts, tossing them on the ground, and nudged your legs open with his palm. He looked at you with a glimmer in his eye.

“I think I’m going to win,” he said. He stroked you between the legs with one long finger, gazing into your eyes. You threw your head back, biting your lip.

“See?” he grinned. “You’re already so wet.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered.

He slid the finger inside as you stifled a moan. Then with a wink he lowered his face between your legs. You felt his tongue hot and wet against you.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered.

His other hand slid up your leg as his fingers moved slowly, rhythmically, in and out. You clenched your fists in his dirty blonde hair, meeting his blue eyes as he glanced up to see your reaction. All the while, the TV light flickered silently over your two bodies, pressed against each other on the sofa.

“I’m still going to win,” you gasped.

He lifted himself up, gazing down at you with his hair wild, breathless. He kicked off his shorts, buried his hand in your hair, and pulsed into you all at once.

The moan that escaped you was beyond your control. You felt his entire weight on top of you, cradling you in his huge arms, as he teasingly put a hand over your mouth.

“You lose,” he whispered.

Not two minutes later, the door to Kendall’s room slid open. He peered out into the hall. Silence. Padding through the house, he made his way through the kitchen until he saw the TV flickering from the other room.

He peeked inside. There you sat, side-by-side with Lukas, a blanket over your laps. Between you were several bags of snacks.

“Hey guys,” he said uncertainly.

“What’s up, man?”

“I thought I heard something.”

Lukas nodded at the TV. “Someone just got murdered. You want some snacks?”

It wasn’t hard to miss the fact that your hair and Lukas’s was a mess, several pillows had fallen to the floor, and your cheeks were flushed. You looked at him guiltily. Kendall caught your eye and gave a slight grin.

“That’s okay. I’ll leave you guys to it.”

With a little wave, Kendall withdrew from the room, leaving you alone again.

“Poor guy,” Lukas said. “Guess he can’t sleep either.”

Then he tilted your face towards his and kissed you on the lips. His hand slid beneath the blanket.

“Now, where were we?”

#lukas matsson #lukas matsson x reader #lukas matsson/reader #succession #reader insert #a quick respite from emotional kendall roy fics #had to educate myself on swedish snacks #this is literally what he's eating/drinking in episode 2 #i am a nerd

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happy74827 · 8 months ago

Text

Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

Synopsis: Words can be hurtful (especially to most) but with Siobhan’s “5-star” personality and ability to not care about anything other than herself, you can’t help BUT spill some words. {GIF Creds: @olliviacooke// I took this off of google (fair warning) so I had to dig deep to find the OP}

WC: 2274

Category: Slight Fluff (?), Enemies to… trope {Trigger Warning: Foul Language (I really channeled the Roy family here), Logan}

I did not expect my first succession fic to be Siobhan… but honestly, I’m not complaining 👀 (fyi: this was a request and I stupidly forgot to “answer” so hopefully the anon who requested lovely Shiv finds this 💀)

『••✎••』

Siobhan Roy… mega bitch. You hated her. Well, that might be an understatement; you despised her. From the moment you met her, she was just a total and complete pain in your ass. Not to mention completely and utterly self-absorbed. She had the attitude and ego of a child.

So when you were made to work with her, you were less than pleased. Logan Roy, the only man who could top Siobhan in terms of being an insufferable asshole, had made you a deal. If you and Siobhan worked together to find a solution to the media shitstorm he was currently experiencing, he would put you on the team that handled the IPO of Waystar. It was the opportunity you had been waiting for, so you sucked it up and agreed.

You and Siobhan sat in the meeting, both of you looking like a pair of miserable children. It made Roman look like a ray of sunshine, and that was really saying something.

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

"What?" asked Siobhan, a tinge of irritation in her voice. It’s amazing how her mood could shift on a dime.

"Nothing. I'm just a bit tired of this fucking circus."

"Well, what the fuck do you expect? You made a public promise. If you can't make good on it, why not just say so? Why continue this fucking farce?"

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

"If I wanted to hear that, Siobhan, I would have gone to my wife's bed. I don't need a cunt in my ear right now."

Siobhan rolled her eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ. I'm a realist. You're the one who wants to live in your fantasy world. Just fucking drop the bomb, tell the truth, and let's move on."

"The truth? And what is the truth? That my son’s a psychotic, drug-addled mess? That Kendall is a sniveling, entitled little fuck? A pathetic, whiny, little shit stain who can't do his job because he's too busy jerking himself off to his own sob story? Is that the truth you want to set free?"

Siobhan stared him down, and once again, you were surprised. You had thought the woman was completely brazen, but there were still limits.

"I'm not your therapist," she said.

"No. You're not. And I'm not going to sit here and listen to a woman with the emotional range of a fucking teaspoon telling me how to handle this situation. Now, I need to get on the phone with my PR team. Fuck off, all of you. Get back to work."

You and Roman both jumped up, quickly leaving the room. Once you were safely away from Logan, you took a deep breath and relaxed a bit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered, "I don't know how she does it."

Roman smirked, "Oh, she's a special snowflake—a real ball buster. You should see her with Tom. It's a fucking bloodbath."

“Tell me about it. It’s a raging dumpster fire, even saying more than two words to her. I feel like she's going to snap my head off any minute. I’m so tired of her bullshit, and she's the least of my worries. The whole family is a fucking disaster. And I don't have time for any of it…. No offense.”

Roman gave you a half smile. "None taken. You're right; I'm the best of a very bad lot."

"Well, at least you're self-aware."

“You fuckers talking shit about me behind my back?"

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

"Always," replied Roman. "And it's fucking hilarious."

"Well, don't let me stop you," she said, rolling her eyes. Her eyes then shifted to you.

"I didn't realize we were having a fucking slumber party."

"Just having a bit of a break," you said.

"Oh, well, that's very fucking nice. I'm glad everyone is taking a fucking break because I've been dealing with our father, who is a raging psycho at the moment. You know, while the rest of you are fucking around, the company is dying. It's falling apart, and everyone is too fucking busy to give a shit."

"Come on, Shivvy. Take a breather. You’re starting to act like Kendall… and that's never a good look," said Roman.

"Fuck off, Ro.”

Shiv glared at him, then glanced back at you. The glare made you want to hide, but you refused to show fear in front of her. You had done it in the past, and it only fed her.

"Well," she said, "aren't you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there with your mouth open like an idiot?"

"I think I'll take option B. I'd like to live through this," you replied.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

"Yeah, I suppose it is. I guess I shouldn't expect someone like you to understand."

"Someone like me?"

“Shiv,” warned Roman, trying to interject. Personally, despite his whacked-out sense of humor, you actually enjoyed his company. He was definitely the least obnoxious of the Roy siblings. “Let’s not get into this now, okay? Just drop it."

"No. No, go ahead, Shiv. Let's have it out. Right here, right now. Let's see if you can handle it."

Shiv stared at you for a few moments, then she smiled. It wasn’t her usual smug, condescending grin. It was different, almost sincere.

"You think you're tough?" she asked.

"No. I know I am. It's a little different, don't you think?"

"Okay," she replied, her eyes darkening. She leaned forward, her face just inches from yours. Roman just looked at the two of you as if watching a tennis match. "You're so sure you can handle me. So why don't you prove it?"

"Prove it? Like, what, punch you in the face? Is that what you want?"

"Although, as satisfying as that sounds, I was thinking we all should just move on… maybe have a drink, talk it over? Yeah? No?”

Shiv just looked at you. "Yeah, I'll pass. I'm not here to make friends, and I'm certainly not here to kiss your ass."

"That's good. Because, honestly, I don't see you as the ass-kissing type. Tom, yes. You? Not a chance. You're the type who wants everything to be handed to you on a silver platter. I'm sorry, but I'm not the maid. I'm not going to serve you or kiss your ass. I'm here because I have a job to do, and I intend to do it. That's it.”

"Oh, right. I see. Well, then, why don't we cut the bullshit and just get right to it. How about you go back to whatever shithole you crawled out of and let the real people get on with things."

“Guys-” Roman started.

"Real people? Real people? You think you're real? You think this is real? I hate to break it to you, Siobhan, but you're not a princess, and this isn't a fairy tale. You're not the queen. Your father isn't the king. You're a spoiled brat, and he's… well, he’s Logan. He's not even a king. He's just a bully."

"Is that supposed to hurt me? To insult me?"

"No, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn't take criticism well. You’re doing a terrible job.”

Shiv stared at you, her lip curled up in disgust. She looked as if she were about to hit you, but the rage was just a facade.

"Well," she finally said, "It's a good thing we're not here to play fucking games, then. So why don't you shut the fuck up and get back to work? Unless, of course, you don't think you can handle it. Maybe you should just go back to where you came from, and let the real people get on with things."

Your nostrils flared. It took every ounce of strength in you not to smack the look off her face. But you knew better. If you started a fight, Logan would take your head off, and that was a fight you couldn't win. So, instead, you smiled.

"Fine," you said. "If that's what you want. I'll do my job, and you do yours. But, just remember, the day is coming when this little charade is going to come to an end, and when it does, it's going to be a lot worse than it is right now."

You didn't wait for her reply. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving the two of them standing in the hallway.

Once you were back in the safety of your office, you collapsed into your chair and let out a sigh. You had just gotten your first taste of a Roy fight, and it was worse than you had anticipated. The worst part was Siobhan had gotten the last word. It didn't matter that you might’ve won. She had gotten the last good word, and you hated her for it.

As the hours ticked by, you became more and more frustrated. You were angry and bitter. You were pissed at yourself for letting Shiv get under your skin, and you were angry at her for getting to you.

So, when your phone rang and you saw her name, you were tempted to ignore it. You let it ring for a few seconds, then decided to answer.

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

"Get your shit together," she snapped. “We have a meeting in five minutes. We have a lot of ground to cover."

That was, in fact, false. By the time you arrived, the conference room was deserted, and only Shiv remained. She was sitting at the table, her laptop open in front of her.

"What the hell?" you demanded.

"I'm sorry. Did you want a fucking audience? Because that can be arranged. But, if you don't mind, I would prefer not to have any interruptions."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that we are both here, and we have a job to do. Now, either sit down and help me, or fuck off. I really don't give a shit."

You stared at her, and she looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. There was no audience, and there wasn’t going to be one. So, you had two options. Either walk away and look like an idiot, or stay and possibly get chewed out again. You took a deep breath and sat down.

Shiv just hummed in response, then looked back at her screen. "Good choice."

For the next couple of hours, the two of you worked together, trying to figure out a way to turn the situation around. Arguments arose, shots were fired, and at one point, Shiv threatened to kick you out, but overall, it was a productive session. Logan wouldn’t be pissed, so that was a win.

"So," Shiv said as the two of you left the building, "Did you cool down?"

"What?"

"I'm asking if you cooled down. Do you feel better now?"

"Um, yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I? You know, besides the fact that we were at each other's throats for hours and the fact that we both wanted to kill each other. I'm peachy."

"Mm, peachy." She said the word like it was an insult. "That's a strange choice of words, don't you think?”

“What? The real people don’t use the word peachy, huh? Is it beneath you, Shiv? Do you only use fancy words and proper grammar?"

"Oh, I can be a real commoner when the situation calls for it. It's all about knowing your audience."

"Really? So, is this the commoner Shiv? Should I expect a new side of you?"

"Maybe.” She smiled oddly again. The one that made you nervous. "Maybe not. That depends on you. Do you want to know the real me?"

"No, not particularly."

"Good. Because I'm not interested in showing you. I’m just curious if you have what it takes."

"To what, put up with your bullshit? To put up with a spoiled brat who thinks the world is hers for the taking? Mmm, yeah, I think I've got what it takes."

"Okay, first off, fuck you. Second, you're a piece of shit. Third, I have something to tell you. So, listen up. This is important. Okay, ready?"

You were about to say something, but her expression stopped you. Her voice was low, her tone serious. You nodded.

"I'm a bitch. And, yeah, I have a temper, and I'm not a warm and fuzzy kind of girl. But, that's the thing, I don't need to be. I don't need to pretend that I'm anything other than who I am. I don't have to fake it because I know what I want, and I'm not afraid to go after it. That’s what you need to understand. It's not about what you think you need. It's about what you want and what you're willing to do to get it."

You just stared at her, unsure of what to say.

"So, let me ask you, what do you want? And are you willing to do what it takes to get it?"

You thought about it for a second. "I want a drink. A strong one."

A little comedy never hurt anyone. And judging by her expression, you could tell you had made her smile.

"Well, that's a start." Siobhan had a smirk on her face. "Alright, fine. Let's get that drink. Then we'll see how far that gets you."

"Yeah," you muttered, "I'm sure."

But, as you walked down the street, you couldn't help but think about the question. What did you want?

And what was Siobhan offering?

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eeveebitches · 1 year ago

Text

e-mail. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Reader

Summary: You're roman's assistant, and after delivering breakfast something clicks.

Word count: 2.154

18+ only! More under the cut

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, mommy kink, praise kink, hand jobs, come eating,

A/n: tysm @prettywordsblog for the request!! :DD i love your writing so it was a pleasure to get requests from you (my requests are still open, fyi)

_______________________

You've been wearing pencil skirts and heels a lot these days.

It's not that you particularly enjoy wearing them. Running errands like "get me a bagel" and "actually, I want a cinnamon roll instead, so get me one of those" do not become easier with red bottoms, and the cold of New York in autumn nips at your barely clad legs with ferocity.

But when you wear them, Roman becomes... docile.

Maybe it's the fact that the heels make you taller than him. Or shit, maybe he has a sexy assistant fantasy, who knows. All you know is that when you dress the way you now do, he hesitates when he snidely asks you to write his e-mails for him. Instead, he carefully suggests you should do them, not a singular perverted comment slipping in.

So now, as you walk out of the elevator, you hear the clicking of your heels echo. It's far too early to be in office, evident by the lack of your peers in the bull pit.

You huff as you approach Roman's office and see him lounging around, legs on his desk as he leans back, staring at his phone. You don't even bother knocking, simply swinging the door open. "I know it's like, three in the morning, but can you at least try to pretend you're being productive?"

He lets out a huff, dramatically rolling his eyes as he flops his legs down. "Yes, mommy," he mockingly whines out, staring at the plastic bag swinging from your arm. "What's in the bag?"

"A gun, so I can finally kill you," you casually throw out as you place the bag on the glass coffee table, throwing off your long jacket onto the leather chair he has. Roman stands up, amusement twinkling in his doe-like eyes as he walks over to sit on his couch. "Y'know, I could totally report you for saying that. That's like, a legit death threat. I could SWAT you." With a tiny jump he hops on the chair, shoes still on as he crouches on top of the couch's pillows.

You can't help but frown. Sometimes you feel like he isn't a total nepotism baby, but instead some kind of orphan child raised by wolves. "Don't do that with your shoes on, Roman, it's unhygienic." With another eye roll he lets himself fall onto the chair, resting his one leg on the thigh of the other. He leans back, arms reaching over the couch's back cushions.

You grab the contents of the bag and place them on the coffee table as you hum a random tune. The smell of a breakfast spread makes you hungry as hell, but you don't have another break until six hours from now. Silently, Roman watches as you place the various foiled up plates down and remove the foil.

Roman eyes the dishes-- an omelette, some sausages, bacon, hash browns, and a paper cup of coffee that he's sure is from his favorite café. "Okay, this is fuckin' weird. What's the catch? Did you get a chef to make all of this arsenic-infused? Because as my assistant, you're also my taste tester, so I'm not eating until I see you poison yourself first," he rambles, cautiously watching you place napkins, a fork and knife down.

"This is a congratulatory breakfast, so just shut up and be grateful."

He raises his brows at you. "The fuck are you saying congrats for?" With the tiniest smile you could stomach giving him, you throw the plastic trash in the bin. "The Oplex deal, Roman. You were the one who ended up buttering the guy up," you explain.

His eyes widen for only a second before returning to their neutral, lidded state. "Oh please, all I did was give him a verbal fuckin' blowjob. Kendall did all the business-y shit," he mumbles out, picking up the cutlery with a solemn expression.

"I'd disagree, and I think Mr. Roy would, too," you mumble out in return. You watch Roman as he takes the first bite of his omelette and moans, quickly scurrying to get another bite. "Fuck, this is good. Is this laced? I'm gonna fire the shit out of you if this is laced," he says in between bites.

You grab your coat from the chair and hang it up, smiling as you continue watching him from the corner of your eye. "I'm flattered, but no. I'm just a good cook." You fight back a laugh as he very clearly chokes on his food. Professionalism and all that, if there's even any left between the two of you.

"You're fucking with me." You plop down on the leather chair across from Roman, grabbing your thermos from your bag and taking a sip of tea as you shake your head. Wide-eyed, Roman gawks at you, then the food, and then you again. "You made me breakfast?"

You simply nod before pulling your laptop out. "I wasn't expecting you to be surprised by that. You're the one who always calls me mommy," you mumble out as you watch e-mails and messages immediately start to pop up. "Now finish up your food and get to work, before you upset mommy."

With a teasing grin you wait for Roman to shoot something back. Maybe something about you getting reported to HR, or about you wanting to suck his dick. Maybe even one of those jokes he makes about how his dad only hired you to be his personal babysitter.

But instead, you simply get,

"Yes, mommy."

Confused, you look up from your laptop to see Roman quietly eating his food. His cheeks are dusted a ripe shade of red as he struggles to cut his food up, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

Something that should've clicked ages ago, clicks. So carefully, you stand up and walk to stand next to the couch he's sitting on. Roman's head looks up at you, eyes large and lashes fluttering. His bottom lip stutters, as if he wants to say something, but it doesn't successfully form itself.

"Do you need me to help you with your food, baby?"

Your heart pounds in your chest as you await his response. Nervously, he scans your face, licking his lips as he mulls over his options.

"Yes mommy," he yet again mumbles out.

You take a seat next to him and wordlessly grab the fork and knife from his hand. "I hope you know I'm proud of you for landing that deal, baby," you tell him as you put a piece of the sausage on the fork. He doesn't hesitate to open his mouth for you, obediently letting you feed him in his office, in a building his dad owns.

"You made mommy so proud. When we finish up here, can you go sit at your desk for me?" He nods as you continue feeding him, which continues for another silent fifteen minutes.

After wiping his mouth for him, he quickly scurries to his desk, staring expectantly at you as you slowly make your way over. You place one hand on his chair, and the other on his desk, leaning over to stare at his computer screen.

Roman lets out a soft groan as your tantalizing perfume overwhelms your senses. All he can do is look up at you as you start up his computer for him. "You have an e-mail you need to write regarding a contractual agreement with a production studio. Can you do that for me?"

It's like he's possessed by you, charmed into a spell of utter submission as he can only mutter another 'yes, mommy'. He opens his mail, and right as he starts typing you tut.

"Mommy wants to hear you say what you're typing, so I know you're doing well," you tell him, hand moving down from his chair to instead rest on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he nods, clears his throat and with a shaky voice reads aloud to you.

"Dear Mr. Spruce, attached is a--" his voice dies in his throat as you let your hand slither down lower and lower, testing the waters as you fully bend over to reach his lap. "Keep going, sweetheart," you tell him, watching his twitchy hands hover over his keyboard.

As he continues where he left off, you carefully unzip his trousers, loosening the top button and successfully revealing a dark imprint showing through his white Calvin Klein boxers. "Attached is a, uhh, a copy of the contract, fuck."

The moan roman lets out as you pull his briefs down, allowing his erection to spring free and slap against his covered stomach, is whorelike. "Keep going, baby," you hum in his ear as you unbutton the bottom of his blouse a bit, wanting to avoid his pre-cum staining a perfectly good shirt.

"Please, mommy, fuck," he whines out as you let a singular finger drag over the tip of his cock, already causing his hips to rut up. "This e-mail needs to be sent today, Roman. Keep typing if you don't want me to get angry."

He nods fervently, shakily continuing to type as you carefully take his erect cock into your hands. He stumbles over his words, moans and hiccups filling your ears as you stroke him at a slow pace. You let your hand squeeze the base before going up, applying the perfect amount of pressure before rolling your thumb over his leaking slit.

Roman's eyes quickly turn glassy with welled up tears as he's made to endure your slow, torturous movements, and as much as he wants to please you, writing the e-mail would be the actual death of him.

His hands shoot away from his keyboard to clutch onto his seat's armrests. With a wanton moan he throws his head back, eyes screwing shut as you slightly pick up your pace. "You've been such a good boy for mommy, Roman, haven't you?" you ask him, voice dangerously low and dangerously close to his ear.

"Ngh-- yes, so so good f'r you, mommy." You kiss his forehead, earning yourself a cute whine. "W'na kiss you, please, mommy," he moans, head struggling to reach yours. "I'll give you a kiss after you finish the e-mail, alright sweetheart? For now," you tell him, grabbing his hand and leading two of his fingers into his own mouth, "I want you to be nice and quiet for me while I take care of you."

With a lack of hesitation he accepts his own fingers into his mouth, immediately sucking on them as his eyes flutter closed, and his moans grow strained. "Do you like it when mommy takes care of you, Roman?"

He nods, writhing under your every touch. He gasps around his own fingers as you pay extra attention to his tip, instant over stimulation taking over his body as his hips twitch up to meet your touch. "Mmh, would you let mommy fuck you?"

"Yes, fuck, yes," he groans out, removing his own fingers to instead find hold in his chair's armrests again. "W'na feel you around me, feel you-- fuck, feel you squeeze my cock." You increase the speed of your strokes, watching your boss fall apart in front of you. His hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his lips are as rosy as they are glossy with spit.

The veins on his forehead and neck look like they're about to pop as you whisper in his ear. "You wanna feel mommy's cunt as she milks you dry?" All he can manage to let out is a desperate 'uh-huh', clearly close to reaching completion.

"'M gonna cum, mommy, I'm g'na-" Roman gasps out, cutting himself off with a drawn out moan.

"Cum for me, baby."

With a moan so slutty you could confuse it for porn, Roman finishes, thick ropes of cum shooting onto your hand as you stroke him through his orgasm. Even when he's emptied out you continue relentlessy, earning you a teary-eyed Roman as he begs for you to stop.

Hiccuping, he grabs your arm. "Too sensitive, mommy," he groans out, trying to catch his breath. You decide to have mercy on him, removing your hand and instead hovering it in front of him. "Clean mommy up?"

He simply nods before licking your hand clean, tongue lapping between your fingers as he practically sucks off his own semen from your fingers. With your hand clean, he lets himself sink deep into his chair.

"That was, uh," he mumbles as he mindlessly stares at you as you wipe his saliva off on your pencil skirt. You don't say anything, simply walk back over to your laptop. "I'm gonna finish up scheduling for next week, alright Roman?"

He blinks a few times, processing your words before awkwardly agreeing with yet another nod. "Oh, and make sure to write that e-mail," you add, turning to now fully focus on your own work.

"...yes, mommy."

#female reader #roman #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #romulus roy #succession #succession hbo #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader smut #succession fanfic #succession smut #hbo succession #assistant reader #boss roman x assistant reader

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