#Kendall Roy enemies to lovers

[hunzzzzz]

STUCK WITH YOU UPDATE🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔

[chaithetics]

To Sit in Hell with You

Pairing: Kendall Roy x f (afab) reader Part 1 Desperate to Please Word count: 2.8K Dividers: @thecutestgrotto Warning: 18+ MDNI, smut, language warning, enemies-to-lovers? Feels more like reader's one-sided beef lol. Reader has no physical descriptions, it's you! Not proofread! A/N: I hope you enjoy and would love your thoughts, I'm sorry for how long this took! This might become an actual little series...? I appreciate all comments and reblogs! 🫶Forehead kisses for whoever knows what the inspo song is (title and a line or two snuck in).

The AC had been programmed to be refreshingly cold, as if it could possibly replicate the cool New York morning breeze, as you sat in your glass pen giving yourself a self-induced migraine by afflicting your eyes with more reports and press releases. 

It was a Tuesday morning, it had barely been a few days since that gala, it wasn’t even the middle of the week yet and you wore a black turtleneck with the highest neck you could find in the whole New York state to hide the evidence of that cursed gala. 

The evidence of Kendall Fucking Roy, as you should say. 

The text came in before it was even 10:00 AM yet, it was from a number that immediately set off the fire alarm in your head. It was too early in the day for this, too early in the week. You stared at the text longer than you’d like to admit and at each character you thought about how he felt, how he made you feel. You wanted to block his number each time you remembered it was saved to your phone but you couldn’t find the willpower to do that right now. 

Your finger fidgeted with the collar of your turtleneck and you itched slightly at the spot where he’d left a gargantuan hickey, the memory of his wet lips made your cheeks heat up and it was all you could think of while looking at his text and memorising his number. Just in case if you ever made the stupid decision to delete or block his number. 

Before you knew it, you’d sighed and sent a text message back and you were signing out of your computer and leaving your office. You justified it to yourself, as you stood quietly in the elevator you told yourself it was fine as you didn’t have another meeting for almost two hours, you had time. Plenty of time. 

You made sure that the limo would stop three blocks away from your office and you put on a big pair of dark sunglasses before you left the PGM building. It made you feel more like a serial killer with a cap on as well rather than tailored incognito chic as you walked to the stupidly large private car waiting. He’d texted the plate before and the car waiting stood out like a sore thumb anyway. It would be impossible to miss but that’s just how he is. 

He remembers what he thought that recent night at the gala, the last time he saw you. It’s burnt into his membrane. How you’d looked, how he’d thought to himself that you were a piece that should be front and centre of the Louvre. But now? Seeing you step into his car with such poise in your movements, the beauty in your side profile, he’s glad that you’re not. You’re too beautiful to be appreciated by the masses, by sweaty tourists or overeducated snobs. You’re a beautiful custom masterpiece that only a man like him could have the means to appreciate. 

You looked around the limousine, seeing the little prince’s chariot in daylight was different, your eyes scanned around quickly. Kendall froze for a second, immediately noticing your eyes searching. 

“What? Not nice enough or something?” He asks almost mockingly with a slight defensive air in his voice as he tilts his head and his eyebrows go up. 

“It’s fine enough to sit in hell with you.” You reply tilting your head back and adjusting your pitch to meet him with an almost equally mocking tone. 

“Wow, that’s… you’re so fucking- uh, how many english lit papers did you take at college again?” He’s further charmed and smiles widely. 

“I don’t know, maybe three?” You answer with a sigh and look out the window.

You do know. It was definitely three. 

“Well if you keep it up, when you get sick of PGM, I think we’d love to publish whatever slam open mic night button poetry collection you have uh, y’know marinating up in there. I’ll even oversee it myself.” Kendall teases. 

“You learned to read? I remember others doing that for you back in college.” Your head whips to face him quickly as you retort. But you do almost laugh at the fact that he knows of Button Poetry. A slight smile starts to come out onto your face. 

“In other contexts this wouldn’t be very uh, arousing, y’know?” 

“I’m glad you enlightened me, I’ve spent the last few days pondering over what arouses you.” 

“While I’m not complaining and I don’t mean to fucking like mansplain and-but it would’ve been more uh productive if you’d approached me with that question rather than pondering on your uh, lonesome.”  Kendall chuckles and then pulls his phone out and you tilt your head, raising an eyebrow. “What? I don’t want to see and give notes on your dick pics.” You say it as bluntly as you can and he chuckles with that large, cocky grin that takes over and transforms his face. It feels like it transforms him as a whole person. 

“You sure? I’m still trying to figure out how to take uh tasteful ones, make them look artful y’know? You can’t spare uh-a few fucking pointers?” He teasingly questions as his mouth quirks smugly. You roll your eyes, he’s a little shit and he knows it. 

“Couldn’t you date a photographer or an art historian?” You tease with a grin starting to come. 

“Your instagram is aesthetic enough. Like that uh fucking tree photo-” 

“My instagram is private!” Your brow furrows as you look at him. Kendall chuckles and shrugs looking at you. “You’re such a shit.” You say looking away out the tinted window with an exasperated sigh. 

“Sure, but you’re here… And not complaining…” He shrugs his shoulders up and flashes that signature grin. 

You tilt your head and look at him, scanning your eyes up and down, he does look handsome today. The suit is smooth, his white button up shirt is as crisp as ever, he’s freshly shaved. You couldn’t say no to those big brown eyes, they saw right through you and melted you down into a gooey puddle. 

“Fikret? Can you take another lap around or two, please?” He presses the button down for the privacy screen after his driver, Fikret nods. 

He puts his hand on your cheek, holding your face, his touch is gentle but firm as his lips start to move against yours. The kiss starts softly but the urgency quickly becomes clear as his mouth moves against yours, seeking more. 

He always is, he’s always looking for more and seeking more. Nothing is good enough. Nothing can ever fill the void, nothing ever gets close… But you. So he’ll push and ask for more, have his mouth seek more of you out without even needing to say a word.

You hesitate for a moment and tilt your head back but you let him in, opening your mouth up for him and you feel him instinctively smile against your lips as he dips his tongue in, exploring more of your mouth again. 

“You could be… uh… fuck, more expressive in your texts…” He whispers against your mouth in between kisses. You pant and keep your eyes closed as you feel his breath against you. You can feel his hand travelling down to unbutton and unzip your trousers. 

“What?” You whisper back, feeling his hand snake its way down underneath your underwear. 

“So short… Had me overthinking your uh punctuation.” He chuckles dryly against you as his eyes search your face, his pupils start to dilate and he doesn’t even bother to tease you over the panties. Something he’d usually do. 

You put one hand onto his thigh and squeeze him there as you sharply gasp, feeling his fingers start to tease through your folds, your arousal is growing and it’s something he knows. He can feel it and you squeeze his thigh tighter as you feel him tease you and start to spread your growing slick all over you as if he’s sensually finger painting. 

“Oh…” You blink your eyes tightly shut, screwing up your face for a few seconds as your pulse speeds up and you can feel your cheeks heating up as his breath fans across your face. As you dig your nails in, you can’t help but breathe him all in; his shampoo, mouthwash, cologne. It’s so intoxicating and overwhelming. 

“You’re already so wet…” He whispers in awe but you groan, hearing the smugness in his voice, as his index finger starts to tease your eager hole. “Probably got wet as soon as you read my text…” 

You start to chuckle at that but then Kendall presses his index finger in and you whine out as soon as you feel him inside of you, starting to explore the inside of you with his finger as your walls quickly suck that little digit up. 

He’s watching you as he starts to speed up his movements and enter a relentless pace, you’re quietly moaning and overwhelmed. You need more… And you don’t like the fact that you’re the only who is becoming a mess and more of one with each second. You need to even the playing field. 

Slowly moving your hand from his thigh you reach it up to try unbuckling his belt. He knows what you’re doing but he doesn’t stop, he instead seems to slow his movements down a little and adds another finger in. You moan out but you’re slick enough for it to slide right in. 

After what feels like minutes but is really seconds, you finally but sloppily unbuckle his belt and unzip his trousers. He lets out a groan and you try to tug his trousers so it’ll be easier to free him. Kendall stills his fingers for a moment and lifts up so you can quickly tug his pants down a little. 

Ken lowers himself down again with a groan and you put your hand down to his boxers to free his girthy, red head that is already starting to leak. 

“Fuck…” He mutters out as you wrap your hand around his girthy length and slowly move your hand down to his base, you can feel his coarse, dark pubic hair tickle your hand as it sits there. You look at his eyes, they’re closed as he leans right into you, his fingers still inside of your pussy as you start to move your hand up and down his throbbing length. 

His breathing speeds up as your hand works him. He’s so thick and girthy and as his fingers start to speed up again, being squeezed by your walls you can’t help but think about how it would feel if it was his cock thrusting in you instead of his fingers. You’d feel so much fuller. You’d really squeeze him.

You let out a whimper at the combination of those thoughts with how his fingers are now curving slightly to rub against the soft spongy spot inside of you. You arch your back away from the seat and whine loudly, forgetting that you’re in a car and then forgetting that the car isn’t some billionaire self-driving bullshit but instead billionaire with a private driver bullshit. 

You bite your lip as his fingers continue and he groans against you as you keep moaning and pumping him. You give him a slight squeeze as you keep stroking him, you can feel the pre-cum weeping out and starting to drip out, adding as a natural lubricant for your hand’s movements on his sensitive length. 

Kendall starts to whine and buck his hips more into you, you watch him. He looks so lost in pleasure as your hand perfectly tugs and squeezes him, so needy and almost pathetic. You love seeing him like this, you want to see him like this more. It’s a thought that’d scare you in your not-near-orgasm mind but right now it just turns you on and fascinates you. You know he’ll look even more perfect when he comes. 

You both keep stroking each other as your backseat is silent minus the sounds of laboured pants, whines and moans fill it. You can feel your heart racing and cheeks flushing as he keeps going, Kendall keeps pumping his index and middle fingers into you and starts to use some of your slick to rub it around you, you can feel his thumb start to circle your clitoris and it's heavenly. He’s applying the perfect amount of pressure and you’re struggling not to cry out. 

“I’m getting… Fuck, Ken, that’s gonna…” You whine and whimper out with less shame than you ever have around him, you do your best to keep pumping him, your hand moving faster as his fingers continue to bring you over the line to orgasm. 

He pants and nods, not slowing down at all, keeping at the same miraculous pace. 

“Come for me baby, go on…” He whispers between his groans and grunts. His voice is hoarse and needy. You nod and keep pumping him as his thick thumb keeps circling your bundle of nerves. 

You cry out, your eyes rolling back and you’re not sure what colour it is you see as pleasure takes over every molecule of your body. You come and you come hard in his car as his fingers work you through it, his fingers feel perfect. You pant and gasp, you quickly blink and try to slow down your quick breathing a bit. 

Kendall is watching you in awe, there’s nothing hotter than watching you in pleasure. You don’t even need to be touching him, he could get off alone just from touching you. Or not. Whatever you preferred. 

But he’s not going to complain about the fact that your hand is still wrapped around his throbbing cock and that you would’ve felt it twitch in your gentle hand as he watched and made you come. He smiles as he feels your hand continue. 

Your hand starts to move a bit faster again. Now that he’s made you come and breathing feels a bit easier and more natural again, you’re determined to unravel him as well. You’re yet to learn but it doesn’t take much of you to get him there, your touch is pretty magical and he’s honestly been touch starved for as long as he can remember. It’s heaven just when you look at him. 

Your hand keeps moving and he groans out as you continue, he tilts his head to press a messy kiss to your lips, trying to tangle his tongue with yours and teeth clash and you keep pumping him. You’re the most magical person he’s ever met. And he’s so lucky, he knows how lucky he is. 

Kendall can’t help it and he’s bucking his hips up to meet your hand more before he even realises. It’s not long before he starts to whimper at you stroking him and he then spills all over himself and your perfect hand. His come is thick and hot and he whimpers. He closes his eyes and pants. You smile as you watch, taking in how his face contorts into pleasure and the dopey smile he wears once you’re done. 

He gestures down to a spot in the car where there’s tissues. You clean Kendall up and your cheeks heat up as you see his release over his clothes. He’ll go home and change, he has a spare suit in here anyway. He gives a multitude of organised and calm excuses that make his pale cheeks turn a rosy pink and you can’t help but smile at it. He shouldn’t be this cute or hot or sexy. Or anything. 

You almost think about doing more with him, how it would feel for him to throb in your heat. You seriously consider being late to your work meeting but there’s no way you can take him and then fix yourself up enough to your standards and then walk into the office. It’s too much, you have too much dignity to ignore the logistics of it all. You sigh as you look at his stupidly handsome face, that smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

You both tidy up and when you’re satisfied enough. You’re eventually brought back to the same spot that you’d been picked up in. You look at Kendall, he chuckles and smiles. It’s a laugh at the beginning but you’re not quite sure yet what it’s the beginning of. It would be a lie to call it the end and you head back to office as unblemished as possible. 

It’s impossible for you to quite understand what it means to Kendall. What he’d already do for you. He doesn’t care if you’d dismiss him, roll your eyes at him but he needs you. He believes nobody could understand you like him and he wants to do the same for you. A pair nobody would’ve chosen to haunt at the back of the Louvre or wherever love was meant to exist.

Lovingly tagging: @waystarkia @maraschinodreamo @hunzzzzz

[muntitled]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader

Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.

Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.

You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.

You're appalled.

"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.

You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.

"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"

"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."

"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.

"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.

"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"

Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."

You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"

"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."

The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.

There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.

There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.

The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.

"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.

"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."

You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.

"Not Kendall." He says.

Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.

"My house."

Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.

He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.

"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."

"Consider it delivered."

He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.

The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…

He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.

"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"

"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."

"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."

"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"

The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."

You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.

But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"

You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.

"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.

From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.

What a dangerous individual.

"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"

You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.

And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.

"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.

You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.

"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"

Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.

"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."

You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.

That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.

"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.

"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"

There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.

That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.

Cooling, diabolical cum.

"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.

Rome. Come on.

Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.

Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.

"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."

Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.

"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.

"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."

"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"

Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"

Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.

"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."

"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."

Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.

"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.

"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."

"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.

"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.

"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."

Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.

"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.

Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.

"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"

Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."

Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.

"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.

"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.

"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."

"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.

"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."

Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.

Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.

"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."

You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.

"I don't need saving."

"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."

His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.

"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.

"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."

Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.

"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."

As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.

"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.

"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."

"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."

"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"

The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."

"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"

You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.

"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.

"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.

"Jesus- Lukas!"

"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.

"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."

There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."

His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.

"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."

There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.

It's far too much.

You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.

"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"

"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.

"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.

"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"

"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"

His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.

"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."

"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."

Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.

"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.

"Every last one of them."

[bleggmoe-blog]

CYCLE - succession fanfic

stewy hosseini x roy!female!reader

authors note: Guess I was tired of not having enough succession content. SO I decided on creating a fanfic of my own. LMAO. I’ve been jotting down ideas, trying to configure a original idea of my own. Trying to go for enemy to lovers type of ordeal? We will see! I hope you all enjoy it!

It had been an entire year since Maeve had seen her family. Aftering signing a modeling contract with Versace a few years ago, she had been working non-stop. Spending majority of holidays and birthday's with her friends. But due to some unfortunate circumstances, Maeve's  modeling career has been put into a sudden halt.

Flashing lights and screaming was heard while being escorted out of the airport. Despite her hooded disguise, fans and paparazzi swarmed around her like a swarm of sardines. Thankfully Trevor, her bodyguard managed to safely lead her toward the correct getaway vehicle. Despite the tinted windows and the safety of the car, her head remained low. Curling into her lap until the driver drove out of the vicinity.

"Miss. Roy? It's safe now."

"Miss Roy?"

"Y-yes—Thank you."  She croaks out toward her driver, peering at him through her luxurious sunglasses. But despite the frames resting upon her face, it could not mask her panic. Her face contorted, as her heartbeat thumped throughout  her eardrums.

Her driver carefully switched his attention from the road to the mirror. Watching the youngest Roy in concern as her clammy palm placed itself in the middle of her tightening chest. "Do you want me to drive you toward the nearest hospital?"

"NO ! No, thank you. I'm fine."

"The same route, then?"

"Yes."

Due to traffic and paparazzi, she was currently  late to her fathers birthday dinner. Although, she didn't entirely mind as it gave her time to recoup.

With a quick shut of the drivers window, Maeve did a complete wardrobe change. Changing from her hobo disguise into her signature old money wardrobe. A pair of suit pants, and her favorite emerald green sweater. Amidst buckling her belt, the driver announces her destination is nearing in a few moments. This allowed her to tie her long locks into a ponytail, apply last minute mascara. "Oh shit." She says out loud, in remembrance. Her hands quickly scavenging for anxiety medication.

As the car comes to a halt, Trevor is quick to pull open the doors. "Marcia called." He informs, arm out for needed assistance. "Of course, she did." She sighs out, smiling as she grabs ahold of his arm. "Thanks, Kev!" Maeve hollers to her driver, who waves before quickly shutting the automatic doors.

In NewYork Fashion, Honking and shouting is heard from the traffic behind. Which causes Trevor to hurriedly escort her aside, helping her onto the sidewalk, before escorting her safely  into her fathers residence. "She's waiting by the door for your arrival." Trevor informs, once they pass the doorman. "... And I can take this back to your apartment." He offers, grabbing ahold of her  duffel bag.

"You're amazing." She tells him, before kissing his cheek. Her phone vibrates through her pants, pulling her attention. "I've got to go—But, I'll send your paycheck in a few days." She tells him, nearing the ajar elevator doors while glancing down at her phone.

From: Kendall

Are you still coming?

She rolls her eyes. Immediately texting him back a response. As the elevator come to a close, she's welcomed with a few moments of silence.

Wait—

"Fuck!" She shouts out loud, once realizing she had forgotten about taking her anxiety medication. "Oh, fuck me..." She groans, eyes squinting in disbelief.

A pleasant dinging noise sounds off, halting her state of panic. Maeve freezes as the doors glide open revealing Marcia on the other side. "Maeve! Finally, you're here." She exclaims happily.

"GAH—I know, Im sorry! There was traffic..." Maeve quickly recovers herself, stepping out of the elevator to engulf the older woman into her arms. "That's NewYork for you." Marcia lightheartedly jokes, kissing her cheek.

"You look beautiful as always." Marcia compliments as they pull apart, hands still latched onto her own.

Maeve always liked Marcia, despite Shiv's own opinion. Finding the woman's touch warmer than her  mothers. One she wasn't afraid of. Sometimes Maeve wondered if that was the reasoning behind Shiv's discomfort. That a cold touch felt more familiar than a warm one.

"Vi? I didn't expect you to show." Suddenly Shiv's voice appears, causing the two to turn their heads in direction. She wore simple outfit, sweater and jeans. Very casual, unlike herself.

"Neither did I." Maeve responds, forcing a smile her sisters way. The three women all walked closer, stopping in close distance. There still remained some tension from before. As the sisters last conversation was far from a happy one.

"How've you been?" Shiv asks, almost as if she was forced. Her eyes held some sort of skepticism. All while her lips curled ever so slightly. It was obvious that Shiv found the question amusing. Considering the prior events that occurred for Maeve only a few days ago.

"Uh, hanging in there..." Maeve awkwardly trails out, her fingers now fumbling in front of her.

"You?" She quickly added, trying to remain respectful. Suddenly Tom walks behind her large smile, catching her attention.

Maeve always had assumed Shiv liked the bad boys. The rough & tough type. Motorcyclist. Actor. An international playboy, even. So when Shiv brought home, Tom Wambsgans... Well, It took everyone off guard. Like his last name, for instance—Maeve found him to be odd. Perhaps a little 'out there'. But she didn't hate the guy. Tom is a nervous wreck. But found him genuinely sweet. Because despite the years of the two being together, he still looked at Shiv with stars in his eyes. It was enduring. Something that her sister definitely looked over at times.

"Maeve! Hello!" He loudly exclaims, Interrupting Shiv from answering her sister question.

"Tom, Hey—How's it going?" Maeve asks, smiling at the annoyed expression of her sister.

"Great! Great!" His smile still remaining wide, beaming throughout the room. "Still kicking it with your sister. So it's all good. Life couldn't get any richer!" He laughs out, causing everyone to awkwardly follow along.

"Blink three times if you need help." Maeve whispers, jokingly. Which caused Tom to laugh a little too hard, earning an side eye from her sister. Maeve tended to avoid any conversations with Wambsgans. Finding that he not only spiked her anxiety, but found it created some turbulence within his own relationship. Due to Shiv's own fears & insecurities.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Which was luckily filled by Kendall's kids. Who ran past the group chasing one another in laughter.

"Hey, hey! No running!" Rava exclaims, quickly following the two. Upon meeting eye contact, the two exchange friendly smile.

"Vi! Oh my god, hey!" She exclaims, expressing a genuine smile. Out of everyone in this family, Maeve enjoyed Rava's company the most. She was kind, smart, and a great mother. Perhaps the only person Maeve trusted out of everyone in this penthouse. It was unfortunate that Kendall fumbled the marriage.

After exchanging hugs, Maeve looks around with furrowed brows. "Where's Ken?" She asks, to which she points toward the close off dining room. Loud giggling and stomps were heard upstairs, causing her to retract her attention.

"Sophie! Iverson! Sorry." She shouts, before quickly apologizing toward the group before following the mischievous children.

A random guy in a wind breaker walks into her peripheral. "M-Maeve, Hey! L-Long time no see!" He exclaims happily, engulfing her into a hug.

"O-Oh." She murmurs, awkwardly tensing at the strangers touch. She turns, eyeing Tom & Shiv in a state of panic.

He pulls away smiling, immediately taking notice of her confusion. "It's Greg." He laughs out, as if it were to ring any bells.

It hadn't.

"Our cousin." Shiv adds, finally deciding in helping her little sister.

"Oh—Oh my god. Hey!" Maeve stutters out in remembrance. Immediately hugging him again, this time more welcoming. "Yeah, I'm sorry—I barely recognized you. What's it been? 10 years?"

"Eight—But uh, who's counting?" He says, awkwardly laughing.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Greg—Get ahold of yourself. Stop gawking at her tits. It's my dad fucking birthday man." Roman announces, walking into the conversation.

"W-Wha—"Greg stutters out, eyes building out of his head.

"W-W-what? We all know you want to fuck her." He mocks their obnoxiously tall cousin, before rolling his eyes.

"She's my cousin, dude." Greg tell him, his tone screeching slightly.

"Cousins." Roman scoffs. "So what? I mean, come on. Half of America is fucking their cousins."

"You're disgusting." Shiv spat.

"Look, Maeve may not ever run the company. But dad will definitely make sure her award-winning tits will make Waystar cover-magazine." He comments, earning everyone in the group to look at him in disgust. After a few seconds of silence, he has the audacity to look confused.

"What? Oh, Come on! You know her tits recruit more employees into Waystar than any other commercial sponsor..."

"Birdie?" Their fathers voice appears, causing everyone to turn their attention elsewhere.

"Dad—Hey." She smiles, walking forward arms outward.

"You don't look a day over forty." She jokes before going in a hug despite his annoyed features. "Fuck off." He murmurs, pulling away with some sort of a smile.

"Hows... uh—business?" He asks awkwardly. Which only resulted in a stifled a laugh from her youngest brother. Maeve decides to ignore it.

"Uh good... Just glad to be able to finally relax & see everyone again."

"Your contract over?" He asks, taking Maeve off guard. It hadn't been discussed, but her manager hinted at the possibility of it occurring. "Y-Yeah... Hopefully I'm off to bigger and better things." She comments, trying to smile through the awkward silence.

"Oh. I brought you something." She trails out, immediately handing over the small bag in her hands.

"Ooo, is it underwear?" Roman jokes from behind, smirkingly. "You wish." She fires back in irritation as dad opens it, revealing the gift.

A snow globe with their family portrait inside.

"Wow, that's adorable. No wonder she took so long. She dropped by BrightStar on the way here." Roman sarcastically comments, earning a giggle from Shiv. Which suddenly strikes a cord in Maeve.

"Where's your gift, guys?" She asks, not missing a beat. "Right here." Roman says motioning to himself, amidst leaning on the couch. Maeve couldn't help but roll her eyes. She did not expecting anything less... Which is why, she hadn't bothered to question her sister. Knowing she'd have a similar sarcastic answer.

"Thanks, Birdy—It'll go on my desk." Her father says with a tight knit smile, before turning to it over to Marcia. "Now, where's Kendall?" He asks before waking off.

"There she is!" Connor shouts in excitement, causing Shiv to roll her eyes. "Who's birthday is it, again?" She sarcastically asks her boyfriend above a whisper.

"Conner." Maeve softly calls out, running into his arms. "Look at you!" He exclaims, lifting her up into the air as if she were still a child.

"Look the outcasts have finally been reunited." Roman comments, earning a smirk from Shiv.

"Hey. How've you been?" He asks, hand laying upon his sister shoulder. "I'm real sorry about the whole—"

"It's fine." She interludes, shaking her head as a way to dismiss the topic. But Connor continues, eyes full of pity.

"No, really. It must be embarrassing." Connor adds, earning laughter from their siblings. "Hey, guys. That's not cool." Connor says, eyeing them in scold-like fashion.

"Con, I'm—let's not talk about it. Yeah?" She points out, eyeing him tiredly. "Yeah, Vi." He rubs her shoulder again, in hopes to comfort her.

"Okay, everyone! Let's get a move out!" Their father announces, nearing the elevator doors. Maeve eyebrows furrow, turning toward her eldest sibling.

"Where we headed?"

"To the game."

—

Upon exiting her fathers estate, they were escorted into one of the many tinted vehicles.

Since Maeve wanted to avoid being coup up with Shiv, she squishes herself into the already full vehicle. "There's no room." Kendall tells her, but she ignores him. "I'll make room." She insists, crawling over her brother.

"That doesn't seem very safe." Rava whispers over to her sister in law, who somehow seats herself in between the two. "It's fine—see?" She says, flashing a smile toward her niece and nephew.

"Yeah. Until we get in a car accident, and you go flying through the front window." Roman comments, earning a concerned look from Iverson. "Seriously?" Rava asks, immediately scolding Roman. "That's not going to happen." She tells her children, reassuringly.

"Whatever you say." Roman sings, his attention focused on peering out of the window. The car was now in drive, a silence lingering over the group. All that could be heard was the sounds of Iversons video game playing in the background.

Kendall's attention remained on his cellphone, not paying any mind to the people around him.

"How's work?" Maeve asks, but is only welcomed with silence.

"Ken."

"Wha—Are you talking to me?" He asks, finally looking up at his sister. She rolls her eyes, and turns to Rava. "Does he always play dumb?"

"I'm busy with things, Maeve—And it's fine." He responds irritatedly, clicking off his phone. As if it were to prove a point.

"You sure? You seem... stressed."

"He's always stressed." Iverson adds, his eyes never leaving his video game. Maeve weakly smiles toward the two children. She felt for them, knowing the difficulty of having an absent father. "Business is Business—Uh, you know... It's going." Kendall adds, noting his sisters concern.

"H-How's um, modeling?" He asks, hoping to bring her attention away from his children.

"How do you think it's going man?" Rome sarcastically asks, before leaning over to get in between the two. "...Her contract dropped her because Jason made her have a freak attack on the runway."

"They didn't drop me." Maeve corrects, her tone filled with aggravation.

"That's Not what the tabloids and news say..." Roman sings lowly, which caused her jaw to clench.

"Yeah, dude—Okay we get it." Kendall rushes out, hoping to defuse the tension.

"Well if that's true, then I guess you're still a spoiled rotten coke infested creep." She spat out, not able to help herself, squinting at him.

Roman immediately bursts out in laughter at her insult. "That all you got?" He provokes. To which she responds by shoving his face backwards.

"Okay! Can we not do this with the kids in the car?" Rava exclaims once realizing her children were witnessing the scene unfold.

"Crybaby."

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

"Dick."

"Whore."

—

Luckily for Rava and the children, the drive to the airport wasn't long. Immediately they are escorted out of their cars and toward the three sets of helicopters. Having enough of Roman & Shiv, Maeve remains by Kendall's side. Well—that was until her father ordered her to join him & Roman instead. "Come on, hurry up!" Her father shouts, causing her to verbally groan.

"Suck it up, buttercup." Kendall pokes, before walking off in the opposite direction. Now left alone, she quickly joins them.

Quickly she straps in and places the headphones over her head. Anxiety riddled within her as the helicopter began to take off, her palms tightly grasping onto the seat in reaction. It didn't help that Roman was in her vicinity, smirking at her reaction. Despite her fathers nickname, birdie came elsewhere. Although it was pretty ironic that Maeve absolutely loathed flying.

"I have a proposition, Birdie." Her father informs, pulling her attention away from her brother.

"Take a year in Shanghai."

"Dad—" She begins, only to be shut down and interrupted.

"You already have your bachelors—What's stopping you?!" He exclaims, causing Birdie to grip the seat tighter. It was difficult to think straight, let alone answer the question.

"Dad, look—I'm not interested in the company." She sprawled out, cutting the bullshit.

"You're sister isn't either—but she's starting to consider it." He points out, causing her to shake her head. "You might too."

"We're different people, dad."

"I know that!" He exclaims, almost insulted that she'd think differently. There was a pause of moment of silence, one that was full of tension.

"You're young, Meave. You wouldn't have to deal with the business aspect right away. Or at all, for that matter—We have people for that." Her father explains. Maeve couldn't even look at him, too busy digging her nails into the leather.

"You're sister... is withering away...." Logan trails out, catching his children's attention again.

"Oh god." Roman is the one to laugh out. Which only earns a glare from dad.

"....And far as I'm concerned. Shiv is incapable to pass down the business." Her father continues his thought. Maeve mentally cursed at the topic, knowing it would arise sooner than later.

"I think Iverson & Sophie will be more than capable to take the spot."

"I think what dad means is he'd prefer our business to remain in the bloodline." Roman points out.

"Do you want children, Meave?" Her dads finally asks.

"Uh, Well—I, maybe. I'm not entirely sure, yet."

She stumbles over her words, both thoughts and words combining at once. It also didn't help the fact that Logan was eyeing her down rather intensely.

"Are you lesbian, Maeve?" He suddenly asks, taking her by surprise.

"No, Dad. Oh my god. No? N-No, I'm not..." She stammers out, heat rising to her cheeks. Now everyone was eyeing her, including Romans step-daughter.

"I like men." I affirm them.

"So, what's the problem?" Her father asks, looking both confused and irritated.

"For starters, Im single..."

"That can be fixed."

"It's not that easy...."

"I'll arrange it. I know a few former—" Her father begins, only for Maeve to intervene.

"Dad—Look, thank you. For the... offer?" She trails off, confused at choice of her words.

"But?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes at the excuse

"But I spent two years of my life with a guy who publicly humiliated me..." She states, gently reminding the man of the fresh wound.

"Fuck Jason! He was a fucking airhead." He erupts in irritation.

"Dad—"

"He's a fucking faggot who bitch cries on screen for a living!" Logan continues on, shaking his head at the thought of the make bimbo.

"You shouldn't be crying over that idiot. I raised you better than that." He finished, pointing his finger at her scold-like. She tenses at this action. Knowing it had became one of her triggers.

"Im not crying over him." She murmurs under her breathe, only earning a glare her way.

"Anymore..." She adds, before fumbling her fingers.

"If someone fucks you over, you move onto something better."

"Better?"

"More attractive. More richer." He roughly comments, waving his hands for expression.

Those were great quality's to look in for a partner. But she didn't really care for it anymore. She had grown to realize those were perks. Love was essential, but in the end, she valued loyalty more than anything. But she remained quiet on the matter. Knowing her father would end up laughing in her face.

"I'm twenty five, dad. It don't think getting married would feel right." She points out, hoping to end the topic.

"What's wrong with twenty five?" He scoffs.

"I'd practically be a child bride." Maeve states, causing her father to laugh sarcastically, before face palming. "Jesus fucking Christ—both of my daughters are fucking feminists..."

"And liberal." Roman adds under his breathe, earning an glare from his youngest sibling.

"Dad, Twenty five is like—like the new eighteen... And I have so many years ahead of me. There's no need to rush things." She explains.

"Meave, are you aware of the age I turned today?" He asks, peaking over to eye his youngest.

"Eighty—Yes, dad. And guess what? You'll be hundred years old, healthy, and still be kicking everyone's ass." She continues, hand now placed on his shoulder. He sighs at her comment, knowing it was no use to continue this conversation further. Taking her hand in his, he eyes her for the last time.

"Will you at least consider it?"

"Of course."

[from-the-clouds]

hello.

my name is mar. i write fic and post about anything & everything i'm interested in. currently writing for the last of us, but also have written for succession, marvel, star wars, & dc (to name a few). i always keep my askbox open for requests, comments, to chat or basically anything. if you don't want to send an ask for whatever reason, feel free to shoot me a message. cheers!

succession sideblog: @kendollroyco

NOTE: I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on post notifications to be updated whenever I post a new fic.

most recent fics:

lost in the fire - kendall roy x reader - (succession - tv series, smut, angst, fluff)

texas sun - joel miller x reader series - series finale - vol. xiv - (the last of us, tv series/game, pre&post outbreak, fluff, angst, romance, slow-burn, smut) - series masterlist

moonlight on the river - joel miller x reader (the last of us - tv series, angst, fluff)

savior complex - joel miller x reader | bad liars (part ii) (the last of us - tv series, enemies to lovers, SMUT)

[saturdaynightghostclub]

Hi Toady! I loved your 90s series and have been having withdrawls ever since it ended. Do you have any movie/show/book recs that have a similar vibe to Leander?

Hi love! I’m so glad you asked 😉 here are some recs for you—for anyone else reading this, please reblog/leave more suggestions in the replies if you know of any that I missed!

Movies:

When Harry Met Sally - douchebag with a heart of gold, witty banter, big sweaters

Much Ado About Nothing - enemies-to-lovers, roasting the shit out of each other, hot secondary romance (trust me on this one)

Pretty in Pink - yuppie greed, opposites attract, Harry Dean Stanton

Notting Hill - Hugh Grant, social anxiety, more big sweaters

You’ve Got Mail - cozy vibes, more enemies-to-lovers, Y2K time capsule

The Proposal - rich bitch, fake dating, daddy issues

Shows:

Succession - I’m not necessarily recommending this bc it’s such a commitment and SO intense but just know that Leander’s a Kendall Roy boy. If Kendall Roy was like 50% more normal

Northern Exposure - slow burn, cuffed shirt sleeves (🤤), fish out of water

Bones - I hate this show like I can’t tell you but the banter is undeniable

Books:

I haven’t read a contemporary romance book since I was 17 and it was Less by Andrew Sean Greer, recommendations are more than welcome

That said: Emma, Pride and Prejudice (obv), Persuasion. He’s so Jane Austen coded. To me

[flintsdragon]

*To the tune of the atreides chant from DUNE* Argestes! Argestes! Argestes!

This gets overshadowed by some killer episodes at the end of season 2, but if i had to pick a single episode of Succession that’s my favorite, it would probably be this one.

Before getting into the plot and the character moments i wanna say that a major reason i feel compelled to rewatch Argestes is that I’ve always really enjoyed the aesthetics of this episode. I realize its kind of weird because it doesn’t have the flashiest outfits or the most stunning visuals, but the fact that everyone’s basically wearing the same clothes and living on a college campus is really fun to me. it makes it feel like gossip girl or something, where the Roy’s can turn a corner at any moment and be met with an enemy or a bestie (or a disgruntled lover)

No offense to Connor or Willa (whom i love, and are completely absent from this ep), but the strongest element of this episode is that you get a glimpse of nearly every single relationship dynamic on the show: Tom/shiv, Gerri/Roman, Kendall/Stewy, Tom/Greg, etc. and on top of that we see (most of) the Roy siblings interacting in a public way we’ve never seen before. I could rewatch their “condemn and move on” talk a million times and never be bored of it because of the way Kendall and Shiv present these polished, agreeable versions of themselves and Roman essentially appears lifeless, barely contributing and waiting for the whole thing to end. It says a lot about their characters, and the actors all play that scene beautifully.

Of course, there is the scene after the talk which ends with Logan hitting Roman and Kendall and Shiv rushing to his side. Everyone’s behavior indicates that this isn’t by any means the first time this has happened, and Roman downplaying the moment speaks volumes about the abuse he has suffered and the ways he has learned to cope with it.

Speaking of seeing characters in a new light, the end of the episode where Logan is banging on Nan’s car after she fires Rhea and calls off the deal is iconic because you can just tell that he hasn’t felt this powerless in his entire adult life. It’s also striking because as audience members we know he makes his kids feel this way basically every day of their lives.

On a much lighter note, another subplot centers around what Tom and Greg are going to title Tom’s presentation, and the result is my favorite joke of the entire series. They believe that “we’re listening” and “we hear you” could get them in trouble so they decide to call the talk “we here for you”. Iconic, brilliant, perfect nonsense. Five stars no notes

[amywritesthings]

fic writer interview.

found this in the tags while I was browsing & thought it could be a fun way to end 2022! i am not tagging anyone, but if you'd like to fill it out, then feel free to copy + paste it to a new post!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Eleven, soon to be twelve!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

113,915

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Marvel (The Avengers, Moon Knight), Star Wars (The Mandalorian, Andor), The Last of Us, The Bubble, and Stranger Things

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Point A to Point B (493)

Where Shadows Meet Spaces (356)

Meet Me at the Usual (277)

A First for Breathing (226)

Meet Me On the Other Side (118)

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Every single one, no matter how long or how short! Reblogs on tumblr and replies/comments under the posts are literally my life source to keep me going through the day. I try to make sure I don't miss a single response if I can help it.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It isn't finished yet, but I have the finale outlined for Famous Last Words as I only have two more parts to go. (That I intend to finish some day I promise!) Same Old Mistakes will have the angstiest ending out of all of my fics.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I do not. I totally could one day, though. Just has to have the right mood.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

No! Luckily I am fortunate enough to say that I have been given only constructive criticism to my fics, which is not equivalent to hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! I actually really get nervous about writing smut. Like it'll take me eons to write smut chapters versus normal chapters because they're the pieces of writing I'm most self conscious about. (Even if... nearly all of my works constitute as smut-based fics.) I primarily write f/m smut just because... well, it just happens that way? And I write smut for me, so I don't primarily write things that I don't find hot. Because fic-writing it's about self-indulging, baybeeee.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No! Not that I am aware of, anyway. Hopefully not, because stealing fics is lame.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of, no.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I'm actually more well-versed in roleplay writing than I am with fanfics, so I want to say... yes? Because I've written collaborative stories with friends that I've just never published to the public, but it's a long-winded way of say yes and also no.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't know if I have one? I write mainly reader insert because I would be writing original character x canon fic, but they don't typically sell well, so I adopted 2nd person writing to get with the times.

In terms of readership, I loved Buffy/Spike from BtVS as a kid, Garrus x Sheppard from Mass Effect 3, Zutara from ATLA, Jack & Elizabeth from POTC, Obidala, Dramione, Reylo... I'm typically a big proponent of enemies to lovers, if that hasn't been obvious yet, lol.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have a Succession fanfiction that is extremely dark and 'dead dove don't eat' territory that I've had sitting in my google docs for over a year now. I think it's some of my best writing, but I know that it's extremely taboo and very much not safe for work, so I struggle with posting it despite how I go back to read it all the time lol. I write a really good Kendall Roy, guys!

15. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue. I went to school and have a degree in pre-production motion picture and television writing, so screenwriting is my niche little hobby that I wanted to turn into a career and never did. That being said, I think that I can really pick up on dialect of characters and actors very well in order to translate them into original pieces / fanfiction, so I think most of my strengths lie within my verbal writing.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Description. I absolutely loathe writing long paragraphs and descriptors and tend to gloss over when others write very long paragraph writing. My attention span just cannot handle non-quippy and whippy writing, and that goes for myself as well. I'd rather just write the dialogue and the drama going on between interpersonal relationships, and tend to struggle with setting up locations and atmospheres in a broader, descriptive sense vs. abstract.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't do it because I would have to use Google Translator and that's a total gamble, but I admire those who can and do fluently. I can read Spanish, but I cannot write it. The closest we get is me writing Din speaking in Mando'a and quite honestly I do not know if those translations are even real / up to Wookiepedia code lol.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Y'all are going to lose. your. shit over this.

Jimmy Neutron. I was nine years old. A 12-part story I still say is my best work 😂

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Point A to Point B will likely be my favorite. I have put so much of my heart and soul in that storytelling and world crafting that I'd be remiss to suggest anything else.

[pity-in-pink]

for my succession girlies: i have this daydream where i tragically go out with kendall and he breaks up with me to "focus on his career" which is such bullshit obvi. fast forward to me bumping into stewy and he says to me "oh so you're the roys' garbage too huh?" and then!! he tells me a business deal goes south and kendall took it personally and they are no longer friends. i never liked stewy tho (too arrogant for my taste) but then its a slight enemies to lovers plot.

am i mentally ill

[tomwambscunts]

j*ke n*rdwind’s IG stories ☠️ no matter how much they try I’m not gonna be fooled by michael and andrew’s whirlwind “friendship” JUST NO (also something about ben wearing suits)

LOOOOOOL I don’t buy it I think this is a “keep your enemies closer” chapter of an “enemies to lovers” book.

Goodnights were funny though because it was just michael trying to get to places and andrew looking kendall roy level sad LMAO but it took a turn and andrew started following michael around for no apparent reason??????

[hunzzzzz]

[pynkhues]

Any chance of expanding on everyone's favourite "childhood friends to maybe-college-fwb to partners to enemies to endgame lovers" Kendall and Stewy for the two character thing? (I'm not above trying to nudge you towards fic writing in any way I can)

Definitely, haha. Sorry this took me a minute to get to, and full disclaimer, I have no idea what this is, BUT I know it was very fun to ramble for a bit:

-

Okay okay okay, so you know they met in kindergarten at Buckley, they know that too, or at least, y’know. They know it academically, because fuck, the only shit that really sticks when you’re five is the stuff that hurts. The times dad ripped the phone out of the wall or mom said you were the big brother now so you didn’t get carried anymore, even though the nanny was holding the baby, or scraped knees or loud voices or that weird, sticking feeling of being left alone somewhere longer than you should’ve been, long enough that the shadows grew long and sharp and you felt smaller than you’d ever felt and - - whatever.

Look, the point is who remembers anything good about five?

Not Kendall, and not Stewy either, even though he talks a big game about - - well, everything. Has built his own story in the fragments of Kendall’s fucked up memories and he tells it all the fucking time – about seeing a thin-skinned little prince at the edge of the playground, lost outside his kingdom for the very first time, and maybe there’s a kernel of truth to it, but Kendall still tells Stewy to fuck off every time he brings it up.

Like Stewy isn’t a little prince too.

(It’s different though, isn’t it? The Hosseini’s weren’t the Roy’s, they were rich but not stupid rich, and while Stewy might’ve spent those first five years before they met bouncing between Farsi and English in first class between Elahieh and New York, he wasn’t chasing Roman up the aisle of a private jet to visit Connor at Northwestern for the weekend).

(If I’m a prince, you’re, like, what? A duke? Kendall asked him one night, stoned. Or just like – uh – a prince of a smaller kingdom? Stewy hadn’t looked too impressed at that, but he’d pinched the joint from Kendall’s fingers with one hand, and buried the other in Kendall’s hair to yank his head back as he said: I’m new world, man. Republic of fucking me. You should try it one day. Maybe you can partition the state of Kendall away from daddy’s heavy crown.)

Whatever, the point is the way Kendall remembers it, Stewy was just there one day, wavy haired and bright eyed and already so fucking sure of himself, and maybe it didn’t even matter how they met anyway. What mattered was Stewy picked Kendall, or maybe Kendall picked Stewy (some nights, Kendall likes to think maybe he picked Stewy, but then - - maybe it feels okay to be the one picked sometimes too. Maybe, sometimes, it feels more than okay), and then that was that.

They were friends. Best friends. Partners on the playground and doubles in tennis, Stewy with his uniform always slightly askew, just the right side of cool, and only more so when he added football to tennis in freshman year, adds girls to straight A’s, dated a cheerleader at Spence just to dump her for some cat-eyed Linda Evangelista lookalike, started working out and wearing his Calvins like Wahlberg in a way that made all the girls at whatever lounge bar they ended up at stare.

And okay, even then Kendall knew Stewy was - - y’know, not cooler, because Kendall’s like - - he’s cool in his own way, he’s pretty sure, even if Roman and Shiv have started promising him he’s not. Like, who cares if he backed out of trying out for the football team (it’s not like he chickened out, he just likes all his teeth in his skull) or if he only made it to first base with that girl Stewy hooked him up with, they’re just - -

Different.

But different never really seemed to matter.

Not when they stumbled back to Kendall’s place (dad’s place, whatever), blissfully light, free, because the world felt like something small and easy – a bauble to roll between their fingers – and in Kendall’s room they’d peel off their clothes and smoke and drink and plan in that way you can only do when you’re fifteen and feel not like a prince, but a demigod in designer jeans.

In Calvins.

Stewy really knew how to wear them.

How to get the band to sit right, just above the waist of his pants, below his belly button, and in Kendall’s room like this, he’d take his shirt off, until he was just tanned skin and abs from football, and Kendall would make a joke about his lack of chest hair to distract from the way his own pale skin burned and Stewy would wrestle him back on the bed to get his shirt off in response (like you’re fucking Tom Selleck, bro, do you even have pubes yet?) and Kendall would just about throw himself off the side to hide the fact that - - y’know - - like - -

Bodies respond to - -

It’s not like he wants to do anything with Stewy, it’s just - -

It’s normal, and they’re both young, but maybe a seal breaks, or maybe it doesn’t.

Maybe it’s just like there’s this sort of gauze between them that’s never been tested before and suddenly there’s this tension because Kendall thinks about Stewy sometimes when he’s making out with Cindy Simons after the Buckley-Spence Junior Honors Society Mixer, and maybe he catches Stewy looking at him once at the club they definitely shouldn’t be in on East 14th, wet-mouthed and sure in that way only Stewy ever is, and maybe the wrestling, the roughhousing, in Kendall’s room becomes a habit, and maybe it feels a little electric when Stewy’s knee accidentally brushes the inside of his thigh when he pins him on the bed.

That was an accident.

Right?

Kendall’s pretty sure it was an accident, and mom keeps telling him he needs to stop overthinking things, especially now that he’s going to Harvard in the fall, so Kendall does. Tries to.

No.

Does.

But that like - -

That summer between highschool and college, they barely see each other, because Kendall spends half of it at the Summer Palace with dad, who’s still smarting from mom filing the divorce papers which makes it - - not fun, and it feels like the minute Kendall steps back into Manhattan, Stewy’s parents have him back in Elahieh, meeting with diplomats and hanging out with architects and artists on Fereshteh Street before school starts.

It’s not that it makes things weird when they start at Harvard, but there’s an air of something, distance, maybe, of what feels like a lifetime with fractured by a few months without, and the first time they go out to a bar that’ll take their 18-year-old asses, Stewy gets so wasted he starts speaking Farsi (it’s really hard to keep up your liquor tolerance in a country with an alcohol ban), and it just makes the distance feel even further.

Or maybe it doesn’t, because Kendall’s got his own room in the dorms, and Stewy loops an arm over his shoulder and lets him stumble them out, lets him take them up, in, lets him fumble with the buttons on Stewy’s shirt, and the first glimpse of hard chest has Kendall staring at the floor, at their feet, while his hands work, because Stewy’s firmer than he remembers, more real, and sometime this summer, he really did get chest hair, and that wasn’t supposed to happen, and - -

“Fucking - - bro, hey, fuck - - ”

And Kendall looks up, and Stewy’s staring back at him, cheeks flushed and hair mussed in that way that shouldn’t look so fucking like - - like movie star or whatever, and Kendall’s so fixed on that that he doesn’t even notice Stewy huffing until he grabs his face between both hands and says:

“Yeah, so like, here’s the thing, I think - -” he pauses, wets his lips, and Kendall’s gaze fixes on that too, and he can feel the heat in Stewy’s look, can feel the more real heat, pulsing off his chest, can feel Stewy’s hands, clammy at his cheeks, and they’re so close he feels Stewy’s exhale against the bridge of his nose when he says: “I think you should not freak out, okay?”

And then he’s kissing him, and Kendall thinks this isn’t - - Kendall thinks this can’t - - Kendall thinks - - Kendall thinks this time Stewy means it when his knee pushes between Kendall’s legs, thinks this time, the way his body sparks electric, maybe he does want to do anything, everything, maybe - - maybe - -

When it comes to them, there are always going to be a lot of fucking maybes.

[raskolni-kin]

im a SUCKER for period/classic lit au (english major thing ig)

so for tomgreg (like seriously we have matt mac the king of period drama here???), apart from p&p (which is the obvious choice), i think these are some interesting choices if anyone needs an idea lol

northanger abbey au: another austen work. nerdy gothic novel fan imagining that the rich manor he visited and its handsome owner were like the novel he read??? but mr. tilney was a lot kinder than tom tho lol

jane eyre au (yeah inspired by that post) if you wanna go full unhinged gothic romanticism (i would recommend wuthering heights too but i can’t stand any more whitewashed heathcliff smh)

north & south au: kinda enemies to friends to lovers, poor but progressive protagonist from countryside newly arrived in rich industrial town vs capitalist factory owner. pretty tomgreg imo

anything romeo & juliet inspired au (ex: west side story): rival grandfathers, rival business season3 mood blah blah blah, and before you bonk me into cliche jail just do whatever retelling and add anything you want lol

bridgerton au: not really classic but we all love gossips about rich ppl here, also a good opportunity to add whatever minor ships you want (kenstew, gerriroman, the sapphics👀) bonus if greg has been the lady *whatever you name* behind these news pamphlets all along

anything time travelling au: yeah awkward unemployed stoner boi greg hirsch no title no money fell from the sky into the cold and arrogant mr. darcy-wambsgans whatever’s arms skdkksksk YES (i might watch too much outlander)

spy au but its during wartimw: yup that mr. bond scene lol, like imagine old james bond novel/movie vibe or casablanca. greg as a new spy (sent by kendall or uncle ewan or whoever) to work with the corrupted roy family but OMG YOU CANT FALL IN LOVE WITH THE TARGET

[jakesullypussyhair]

kendal roy x patrick bateman enemies to lovers 500k words

[mego42]

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

(bless you for putting the q's in and enabling my laziness)

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

honestly this one kind of stumped me at first bc omg so many? but i'm gonna go with spike from btvs. he was originally introduced with the intention of being a short run villain but the actor and character were so engaging they ended up writing him into the whole show and gave him (imo) one of the best, most interesting....i don't want to say redemption arcs because while redemption was a feature at some points in it, it wasn't really the point, i don't think? his character was more a fascinating character study in self-determination and intentional evolution beyond innate nature and i love love l o v e it.

he also feeds into one of the absolute best enemies to lovers relationship arcs ever depicted on tv. i'd say fight me but don't bother, i'm right.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

i don't think you guys realize how stressful this sort of question is for me (or maybe you do and that's part of the fun and in that case, i tip my metaphorical hat to you)

i'm going with don't cry by bugsy malone ft dermot kennedy for kendall roy from succession aka the broken trash son i never asked for and do not want but @pynkhues thrust upon me and now i'm a wRECK. i know you don't go here so this is meaningless, but i'm gonna call out some lyrics anyway (plus the sheer drama and overall vibe of the track is SO KENDALL):

The skies aren't bright enough to see the gods / One hand on the crown, I'm on the ground

and

I told 'em, don't cry, be a soldier / Now you're holding your composure / I think I see the holy ghost / I'm not ready yet to leave the throne

and

Shoot me down, paranoia / Bring a medic, bring a lawyer / I can't even bear the thought of / Living on with all this trauma / If the blood thickens up / And goes to your heart, will you fall apart

okay i'm done now. I DIDNT ASK TO BE LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

mmmmmmmmmm idk that i have one? to me, tropes are entirely dependent on how you use them and whether or not they work is a function of how skilled/intentional/aware the person wielding them is about their work, not necessarily the trope itself. that said, i am highkey unlikely to ever be interested in pregnancy-related tropes and am bizarrely averse to coffee shop AUs for no real reason aside from i generally don't like them.

fandom asks

[minnesotabysamia]

uh um thoughts on the popular succ ships... so like (censoring to avoid search) t*mgreg k*nstew r*mangerri etc. also r*man & tabitha idk if that's popular probably not but ykm

hi kieran omg the way I have a note with my detailed thoughts on every succession ship .. very prepared for this q

tomgreg: it's fun & I get the appeal they're weird and insane but I'm personally not into it.. they're so fun as a dynamic and as sort of foils of each other they just have zero romantic chemistry to me 😭😭 also I feel like we are focusing on tomgreg but not enough on tomshiv can we talk about tomshiv I've been dying to talk about tomshiv .. wait this should be its own section

tomshiv: OBSESSED with them if you couldn't tell. every one of their interactions is like the most pathetic tragic embarrassing thing you've ever seen it's cringe comedy but it's neither cringe or comedy like it's depressing I ❤️ them. they both have an idea of what their relationship is in their minds and they like that idea so they want to make it work but are so completely detached from the other person that they don't realize it's been doomed. shiv is openly manipulative and it's one sided and tom wants to ignore that she's just like. a bad person. as much as he tries to match the unremorseful stone cold killer attitude of the roys he expects his wife to be a safe haven from that but she can't be she can't turn it off!!!!!

romangerri: I don't understand people who like want them to be in a relationship like that's not what it's about ... however their dynamic is so interesting it's about the uncertainty it's a means of tension that's so much more effective than a clearly like. purposefully predatory relationship where one person is in the wrong. here, it's so unclear to what extent each of them is manipulating the other AND he's her boss AND she's his sister's godmother maybe his too AND they still both seem to have some affection for each other. & the kind of sad discomfort of it all is doubled by that lack of specific intention. this just like. happened and it's unpleasant and you're forced to sit with that.

roman & tabitha: I love them tabitha so funny I love when she's mean. they're a couple of eunuch besties! literally would be so sad if they wrote her off also they should give her more characterization besides being bisexual <3 ... in part they're kind of comic relief but also interesting to see how genuine and matter of fact tabitha can be at times in contrast to the stickiness and facade of the rest of roman's world

kenstew:

kenstew getaway car edit. that's all.

(I like them, i'm not attached enough to kendall to really be invested but the themes of old friends/betrayal/lovers to enemies/the social network are very pleasing)

anyway in closing, the other day I lost my minddd abt the succession relationships and took a voice note of it & I'm literally just going to transcribe that: everything is tactical and none of it is emotional...none of the relationships have a single ounce of emotion except for when it's played for laughs, and if you do invest emotion into those relationships that's what kills you.. it's so gross it's all so unromantic and gross because it's never some sleek maneuver done from a heart of passion it's always just because they don't know what else to do ... it's nauseating. in everyone's essences there's just something so unromantic it makes you want to throw up to watch them attempt to perform love !!!!