#Kendall Roy fight for you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 months 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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shesnake · 8 months ago

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obviously the privilege and daddy issues are inherent to his character and I'm most likely making this comparison due to their respective shows' common setting of the cutthroat finance world but half of what drew me to harper stern is that to me, she is like kendall roy minus the privileges he was born with. because Hear Me Out she really acts in the same way! she will overshoot, every decision she makes is BIG, she will hold her blackmail cards close until the last minute because she will always try to play the game first, because moral superiority is failure compared to winning! she will fight whatever! she will hurt and hurt and hurt and LOSE but keep going because She Has No Shame! (as you may know there is an hour of me talking about how kendall has no shame besides that which is enforced by logan) and that is so so so compelling because she doesn't have the parachute of privilege to save her, she has to be smarter that him. and she will absorb the poison, everyone's poison! and she will die a little bit every time trying to convince herself it's anti-venom. there are so many things wrong with her she's a piece of shit and I love her

#industry #industry hbo #harper stern

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beegomess · 1 month ago

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You Haven’t Seen My Man || Kendall Roy

Summary: Being Kendall Roy's wife involves giving up some things. However, working with you involves understanding that sometimes you may end up drawing more attention than he would like. But this is not really a problem for someone who loves to prove to be powerful all the time. Warnings: Cute, spicy with hints of implicit control - Word count: 8.3k

You were married now, but the story that united you was far from conventional or romantic. His brother and Kendall met in a rehabilitation clinic, sharing not only the fight against addiction, but also the weight of being heirs always pressured to prove their worth. The friendship between them was natural, and you, as a frequent visitor, became part of that bond. At the time, she hid that she worked as a legal advisor at Waystar, aware that the connection with the Roys could complicate things.

When both were discharged, you organized a celebration. It was that night that you and Kendall began to get closer. What seemed like an unpretentious friendship evolved into something more. You have become colleagues, friends and, finally, boyfriends. They were difficult years, marked by relapses of both and by Kendall's constant effort to get back up. Despite this, you remained together, supporting each other.

But the night Kendall asked you to marry him brought a devastating turn. You left dinner overflowing with joy to tell your brother the news, but you found him unconscious in your apartment. The overdose was fatal. What should be a new beginning also became the end of an important part of his life.

The devastating loss increased the pressure of your father, who wanted you to take on the role of CEO of the family business, something you always avoided. He also showed support for his marriage to Kendall, but his real intentions involved uniting families to strengthen his power, which filled her with revolt. Since then, you have kept your distance from your family, although his pressure has never ceased.

Kendall remained by your side, putting her own pain aside to help you get through the grief. Although the loss has never been completely overcome, it has become more bearable in the company of someone who understood the weight of carrying difficult memories.

When they got married, the lives of both fit in a surprisingly quiet way, considering the chaos that surrounded them. You chose to stay out of the power dispute at Waystar, which helped maintain the balance between work and marriage. Still, working under the same roof, with Kendall technically as his boss, brought challenges. Some tensions inevitably overflowed to domestic life, but you learned how to deal with it.

That morning was a perfect example of the controlled chaos that you and Kendall had learned to master. Since Logan's death, Waystar had become an arena of constantly burning egos, with Kendall, Shiv and Roman competing to make decisions while sewing the deal with Lukas Matsson. For you, the frenetic pace was nothing new. But that day, it seemed that everything was amplified.

Kendall had left early, leaving you with some precious minutes in bed that, although comforting, ended up devoured by the avalanche of messages and notifications on her cell phone. When he arrived at the office, he was already one step behind, and this did not go unnoticed. He didn't even have time to spend in Roman's room, where he and Lukas were gathered. Not that you wanted to get more involved than necessary - your role there was more strategic, and you knew exactly when to withdraw and when to act.

While packing the pile of papers I would need to discuss with Kendall, the phone on his desk vibrated. It was a message from him with a typical urgency. You sighed, already gathering what you needed, while answering a call from an external lawyer who seemed unable to understand something simple.

The heels of your shoes hit rhythmically against the carpet as you crossed the corridor. The sound echoed in the open spaces of the floor, a clear sign of his haste. In that environment, everyone seemed to be always watching each other, like animals in a corporate zoo.

When passing through Roman's room, he noticed Lukas gesturing at a glance, but did not pay attention. It was no news that he was there. Inside, Lukas interrupted the sentence itself when you passed, his eyes fixed on you long enough for Roman to notice.

- When I buy all this shit, will I have assistants like her? - Lukas shot, a cheeky smile curling his lips as his gaze lingered in the direction where you had just disappeared. The malicious insinuation was clear in every word.

Roman swallowed dryly, the discomfort evident in his expression. I knew Lukas well enough to know that giving any information would only increase his interest. But I couldn't just ignore it either. He needed to stop talking.

- Man, trust me, you wouldn't handle her. - Roman said, launching his typical mixture of humor and sarcasm. - She sees beyond the walls. You probably already know what you think before you open your mouth. It's fucking scary.

Lukas let out a short laugh, but Roman's comment didn't totally disarm him. His thoughts were still stuck in the image of you crossing the office, his hips moving with a grace that seemed almost calculated.

He knew he shouldn't be distracted, not at that moment, but something in you bothered him. It wasn't just the appearance - it was the aura of control, of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

As Lukas turned his attention to the meeting, the malicious smile did not completely disappear. Maybe it was an exaggeration, maybe he was just bored. Or maybe there was something in you that challenged you, without you even knowing it.

You, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to any look that could be cast in your direction. Your mind was too busy with professional issues, and on the personal side, Kendall, although consumed by the obsession with being a CEO, found ways to devote to you all the attention she needed - and sometimes even a little more. He knew how to balance the two worlds when necessary, a trait that you secretly admired in him.

That same day, something not so unusual was about to happen. At work, you always maintained an impeccable posture. Seriousness and professionalism were practically their business cards. You knew the dangers of giving room to gossip or distractions in the corporate environment. But no matter how much I tried to keep things strictly professional, sometimes it was impossible to ignore the magnetic tension between the two of you. He had a unique talent for making you lower your guard, especially when Waystar's building was almost empty.

The day was exhausting and long, a whirlwind of words and numbers that seemed to dance in front of you from the moment you passed by Waystar's concierge. Now, with the floor almost empty and the sky outside dipped in darkness, you and Kendall were sitting side by side on the couch in your living room, trying to decipher the last barrier of a problematic contract.

Kendall's suit had already been abandoned hours ago, and the sleeves of his dress shirt were folded up to the forearms. He was more comfortable. You had also abandoned any formality: the heels were dropped near the sofa, the blazer had disappeared at some point in the day, and you now settled with your legs bent under you, in an almost intimate position, reflecting the tiredness and comfort you felt next to him.

The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of fingers occasionally typing on the notebook keyboard and exhausted sighs. It was Kendall who broke the cycle, rubbing her face with her hands and leaning back on the couch with a heavy sigh, the frustration evident.

You observed the movement, the way he seemed more vulnerable at that moment, and made the decision to end the torture that you yourselves were imposing. With a decisive gesture, you closed the two notebooks in front of you and organized the papers in an improvised pile.

- I think we've done enough for today. - His voice was low, but he had a quiet determination that he didn't dispute.

When you leaned over to reach the table, your skirt went up a few centimeters more, exposing parts of your skin. Despite the evident tiredness, Kendall's gaze automatically slid to you, a spark of interest lighting up in your eyes. He didn't say anything, but the smile that began to play on his lips delivered him.

You leaned back on the couch again, but this time, instinctively, closer to him. His hand went up to the back of Kendall's neck, his fingers tracing small circles on the tense skin, an affectionate and intimate gesture that always made him relax.

- Do we really have to go to his country house this week? - You asked, your voice low and almost resigned, as if you expected him to change something. - Can't Matsson be normal and just do a video conference?

Kendall opened her eyes, turning her face slightly in your direction.

- Do you need a vacation? Because that would be a bad moment. - The provocation came with a tired but sincere smile.

- Well, you couldn't stop me anyway. - You answered in the same tone, a playful smile illuminating your face.

Kendall tilted her head, the expression slightly challenging as she rested her hands on her legs, gently pulling them to be on top of his.

- You know I'm still your boss, don't you? - His provocation was accompanied by a light touch on his knees, his fingers slowly rising up the curve of his thighs, like someone testing the limits.

- Nothing like a good judicial process to put things in perspective. - You replied with a defiant smile.

He let out a low and incredulous laugh, his eyes shining with amusement.

- Are you threatening me? Because, just for the record, my legal group is the best in the country.

You couldn't contain the loud laugh that escaped, the sound echoing through the silent room. Kendall leaned over, his smile growing when he saw his fun.

- What? Do you think I'm kidding? - He continued, still smiling, but now his hands were firmly anchored to your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't notice the exact moment when you ended up completely on his lap, but there was, sitting on your legs, the heat of the bodies of you two filling the small space between you.

- You definitely wouldn't want to face me in a court, Ken. - You murmured, the lowest voice now, but still provocative, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

His hands tightened slightly on his waist, as if they wanted to record the moment in his memory. He tilted his head, his eyes sliding from his lips to the neckline of his blouse, which was now slightly more open because of the position.

You didn't have time to say anything else before he tilted his face and his lips finally met. The kiss started slowly, almost exploratory, but quickly became more intense. His hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, feeling his breathing accelerated as he deepened the kiss.

Some fingers slowly rose under your skirt, dragging the fabric with them, while Kendall pulled you even closer, gluing her hips to his. The movement was deliberate, provocative, and when he pressed you against you, you felt exactly what he wanted you to feel.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, your fingers sliding down the open collar until you met the heat of the exposed skin, at the same time, his hands went up more, exploring his thighs without any hurry, but with a firmness that made it clear that he knew exactly what he wanted. When the lips parted, it was only for him to go down his jaw and reach his neck, where he began to distribute hot and possessive kisses.

You let out a trembling sigh when he found a sensitive spot near your collarbone. He noticed and lightly bit the area, a satisfied smile forming against his skin when he heard the sound that escaped from his lips.

- You have no idea how much I have to hold back when you wear this fucking skirt. - He whispered against her neck, his warm breath making his skin shiver.

You arched your body, tilting your head to give him more access, while he continued the path over your shoulders, his lips alternating between kisses and soft bites that made you lose control. Unhurriedly, Kendall slid her fingers through the fabric of her blouse, moving it away just enough to expose more of her skin.

- Much better this way. - He murmured against his collarbone, the hot breath making his skin even more sensitive. His hands returned to your waist, pulling you again against him while your lips explored the new piece of exposed skin.

You tried to answer, but your mind was a blur. His every touch seemed to set you on fire, and when he pressed his lips lower, near the beginning of your bra, you couldn't hold a louder sigh.

That's when a noise in the distance interrupted the moment. A low sound, maybe the creaking of a door or quick steps, made you freeze for an instant. Kendall, however, seemed to ignore it completely.

- Ken... - you call, between sighs, your eyes opening more attentively while trying to regain focus. He ignored it, thinking it was just one more of those delicious moans you let out when muttering his name. But your voice became more serious when you pushed his face away, still panting. - Ken, I think there's someone here.

He frowned, reluctantly, his lips still close to his neck while grumbling:

- So what?

You moved away a little, already restless, standing, your eyes trying to cross the darkness of the office beyond the glass walls. Kendall sighed, clearly upset, and accompanied you. He stopped right behind you, his hands automatically returning to your waist as he glued his body to yours, as if the situation were a mere detail that did not require any attention.

- There's no one here, dear. - He murmured in her ear, pressing his lips back on the curve of his neck, ignoring any sound or shadow that might exist.

You closed your eyes for a moment, almost giving in again to the warmth of his hands on your waist and brushing your lips that seemed to want to erase any remnant of your concern. But then the sound came back: something soft, like a hurried movement or the creak of a door in the distance.

- Ken, seriously. - You turned around, putting your hands on his chest, trying to stay firm. - Shall we go home?

He furrowed his eyebrows quickly, his lips curved in a carefree smile that only made it clear how much he thought you were exaggerating.

- Are you really getting me out of here? - he asked, tilting his head while looking at you as if it were a crime to leave things incomplete.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head, but before you could answer, he pulled you by the neck for a kiss, one of those that disarmed any argument. The plan of a quick kiss to convince him was completely lost when he deepened the movement, his hands firm on his waist as he pressed you against his body, with an accuracy that made you forget why they were still there.

Finally, he walked away, the satisfied smile still stamped on his face, and murmured:

- Let's go soon. - He took the suit thrown on the couch with the same energy as someone who wanted to shorten the waiting time, wearing it anyway.

You took the opportunity to take your bag, put on your shoes and turn off the lights. While the door closed behind you and you walked to the elevator, Kendall didn't waste time: a hand slid firmly to his ass, squeezing lightly while he commented something provocative with a cheeky smile.

The way back home seemed longer than usual, every second an agony. His fingers slowly went up his thigh, deliberate, squeezing and sliding, as if he wanted to test his limits.

As soon as the elevator of the building where you lived arrived, the silence between you seemed electric, the air loaded with tension. As soon as the door opened directly to the apartment, Kendall was already pulling you by the waist, closing the space between you as if there was no more time to waste. He pressed you against the wall next to the entrance, his hungry lips on yours, and you responded with equal intensity, your hands grabbing his hair, pulling him closer.

The corridor became a blur as he guided you inside, the two bumping into furniture as if every second mattered. When they got to the kitchen, Kendall didn't hesitate.

- Is this good for you? - He murmured, his voice loaded with sarcasm and desire, his chest pressed against his back, while sliding his hands down his thighs, raising his skirt without ceremony.

You couldn't answer, already completely surrendered to the firm and urgent touches. The kitchen, with its cold tones and the soft street lighting that entered through the windows, became the perfect setting for the outcome of the desire that began in the office.

__________________________

The days before the trip were intense and so full of commitments that time seemed to escape through your fingers. Kendall, you, Roman and Shiv were at a frantic pace, adjusting the last details of the proposal for Matsson during the flight. The atmosphere between you was focused, but Roman's constant interruptions with his jokes did not let the environment become completely wise.

The flight was long and silent. While most of you were immersed in papers or napping, there was a feeling of shared restlessness. You noticed this in Kendall, who drummed her fingers on the arm of the armchair.

When they landed at the small airport, the atmosphere of the destination welcomed them with a humid and cloudy cold. The surrounding mountains seemed to be covered by a thin fog, and the icy wind carried raindrops. Roman, when putting his feet on the ground, looked at the cars waiting for you and, as expected, made a comment:

- Oh, perfect. Who needs a helicopter when you can take an endless trip by car.

During the journey through the winding roads that crossed the mountainous region, the silence in the car was interrupted only by the sound of the windshield wiper fighting against the persistent drops.

When they finally arrived at the place, an imposing and modernist construction emerged in the melancholic landscape. It was isolated, surrounded by tall trees and surrounded by low clouds. Despite the discomfort caused by the cold and rain, the minimalist architecture seemed even more impactful in the scenery.

You and Kendall went out side by side, the body expression of both was neutral, maintaining professionalism. The tense atmosphere of the negotiation seemed combined with the gloomy atmosphere of the place.

Lukas was waiting under the entrance cover. Dressed casually, he seemed completely at ease, as if the hostile weather was just another characteristic of his nature. His eyes soon fell on you, analyzing every detail in a long and not at all subtle way. A brief smile appeared on the corner of his lips, something between interest and curiosity.

He approached to greet the group, extending his hand to Kendall first. Then, his eyes turned to you, and he tilted his head slightly, as if trying to evaluate who you were.

Kendall returned the greeting impassively, and you just kept the same professional countenance, corresponding to the handshake that Lukas offered. Despite not showing any visible reaction, you noticed his insistent gaze on you, as if you were trying to decipher your presence there.

His first impressions of that place ranging from something almost picturesque, ideal for relaxing, to a slasher movie setting. Dense trees surrounded the complex, its branches writhing as if whispering secrets. And the accommodations... Well, these brought a new meaning to "forced intimacy".

The rooms were small, surrounded by glass walls that led to the treetops - and to the rooms of others. There were no curtains, just a dubious concept of "integration with nature". Privacy seemed like a joke.

- What the fuck is this? - you let go, dropping your suitcase in a corner with a slack of disdain. - They put us in a matchbox with transparent walls.

Kendall, already taking off her coat, laughed low and shook her head.

- This guy is too weird to choose this damn place. - But the irritation on his face was obvious. He hated places that escaped the standard of impeccable luxury.

While you were removing your heavy coat, Kendall answered a call from Roman. He left his cell phone on the speakerphone on the table, and his brother's debauched voice took over the environment.

- Damn, are these rooms a social experiment? - Roman began, already with that tone loaded with sarcasm. - Who was the genius who decided: 'Hey, do you know what's going to be great? Glass walls among dysfunctional adults!'.

You suppressed a laugh while Roman continued:

- By the way, you can see you here. Yes, literally. So, please, do me a fucking favor and save the couple's little show for later. Seriously, whatever you do in that bed - I don't know, bite, moan, scream - I don't need a VIP window to watch. My trauma quota is already broken.

- Why don't you just look away? - Kendall replied, frowning, but unable to hide a smile.

- Oh, great plan, Ken! I'll just turn my head and ignore the erotic theater that you two may or may not decide to stage. Like, of course, super simple. It's like asking not to look at a car disaster.

Kendall just hung up with a sigh.

- He never shuts up, does he?

- It's a talent. - You laughed, dropping your coat on the couch and going towards the bathroom.

The bathroom was even tighter. You sighed when you entered, since it wasn't exactly the standard of comfort you were used to. His apartment in New York was practically a sanctuary, where not even a drone would be able to snoop.

The hot water ran down his skin, but there was no way to relax completely. Everything in that place seemed... exposed, at the same time as tiny. When you left the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, you found Kendall sitting on the bed, fiddling with your cell phone with a restained expression of frustration.

- What's wrong? - you asked as you went to your suitcase, taking the clothes you would wear during dinner.

Kendall dropped her cell phone on the bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands, the gesture of someone on the verge of exploding with their own thoughts.

- Nothing, just rereading some things. - He replied, looking up at you. The smile that emerged was subtle, but carried a malicious trace.

- What kind of "things"? - you asked, pulling a black wool blouse out of the suitcase.

He tilted his head, his eyes walking through you while you chose a heavy coat to complete the look.

- The kind that makes me think that we could pretend we got lost in this shitty place and skip this dinner.

You laughed, shaking your head while wearing your underwear, still feeling the remnant of lightness of the moment they shared. However, as soon as you and Kendall left the room and reached the main corridor, the atmosphere changed. Near the entrance of the hall, they found Shiv and Roman, and the air already seemed loaded with tension. As expected, Roman did not miss the opportunity to break the atmosphere with one of his jokes, full of irony.

- Look, the couple of the moment. - He said, with a crooked smile. - I bet dinner will be the preliminaries for what comes next.

You didn't stop, you just kept walking, your cutting tone escaping naturally.

- Roman, you're talking so much about it that I'm starting to think you're waiting for us to make love in front of you or something like that.

Roman went from surprised to angry, and you could hear the frustration in his voice.

- Fuck you.

You launched a victorious smile, without even looking back. You positioned yourself next to Shiv, following next to her to the table where they would sit while you listened to her tell you about the discoveries about Matsson.

The rhythmic sound of your heels and those of Shiv echoed through the hall as you walked towards the designated table. To the corner of your eye, you noticed Gerri and Carl sitting further down, engaged in a conversation that seemed casual. Gerri threw a polite smile in your direction, and you reciprocated, without thinking too much, before continuing to walk next to Shiv.

However, as soon as you passed, Carl leaned slightly towards Gerri, the unmistakable provocative tone.

- Still trying to make friends, huh?

Gerri kept the smile on his face, but the sarcasm in his voice was cutting.

- I still can't believe this bitch got so much power just by fucking one of Logan's children.

Carl gave a muffled laugh, his gaze dancing between Gerri and his figure, now on his way to the table.

- Well, it's not like you haven't tried something similar either, right?

Gerri sighed deeply, as if the conversation was more exhausting than necessary.

- Fuck you, Carl.

You, oblivious to the poison exchanged behind you, went to the table with Shiv, focused only on the dinner you were about to start.

Dinner was a mixture of forced formality and disguised tensions. The expensive dishes were served in silence interrupted only by the strategic conversations between the sides of Waystar and GoJo. You were calm, oblivious to any subtext that surrounded the table. He answered Matsson's questions succinctly when he tried to involve you in discussions about his area of expertise, remaining strictly professional. His clear and objective answers left little room for any other interpretation.

On the other side of the table, Roman watched everything with the usual restless attention. It didn't take long for him to realize that Matsson's eyes wandered to you more often than necessary. It was subtle, but it was there - the look that lasted a little longer when you spoke, the pause before he returned to paying attention to what Kendall or Shiv were saying.

He spent dinner rolling his eyes at himself. "Really, Lukas? Do you want to fuck her now? At a dinner? With Kendall right there?" He thought, trying to decide whether to intervene with some comment or just let the show roll. In the end, he remained silent, but the tension did not go unnoticed.

Dinner was over, and conversations flowed in small groups scattered around the hall. You ended up cornered by Greg, who, with his innate ability to turn any topic into an endless monologue, was talking about something that involved compliance systems and a documentary that no one else seemed to have heard of. You nodded from time to time, let out a "Is it really?", while thinking about how to get out of there.

Finally, you asked for permission, a polite smile on your lips, but in a hurry enough not to give him room to insist. The cold air outside was an immediate relief, and you pulled your coat closer, taking the silver cigarette wallet out of your pocket. The sound of the lighter breaking the silence was almost comforting as the smoke spread around him.

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn't hear the steps approaching until a low voice full of irony sounded behind you.

- Do you mind offering me one of these?

You turned around slightly, finding Lukas Matsson standing there, the smile half crooked on his face, the expression too casual to be innocent.

- Of course. - You answered, handing him the wallet and the lighter. He took a cigarette, lit it calmly, and the flame of the lighter briefly lit up his face before he released the first long puff.

For a few seconds, silence reigned, only the sound of the embers burning filling the space. So, he broke the moment:

- So, what's your story? Did they throw you into this last-minute deal or was it just a strategic move that no one noticed?

You let out a low laugh, bringing it again while answering:

- I don't think your team did homework as well as you think. - There was an ironic tone in his voice, but nothing exaggerated. - I've always been involved. I only prefer to avoid the spotlight when I can.

Matsson gave a short laugh, leaning more relaxed against the wall, but his eyes never left you.

- You know, that's funny. - he said, releasing another drag. - It seems that the more time I spend with you, from Waystar, the more I wonder how Logan kept this shit all together.

You kept a polite smile, but you didn't get more involved than necessary.

- He knew exactly how to deal with each piece on the board.

He arched an eyebrow, interested.

- And you? Is it just another piece... or is it the one who moves the others?

His words came loaded with a subtext that you preferred to ignore. Your smile didn't falter while you put out the cigarette on the stone guardrail in front of you.

- I'm more for someone who guarantees that the board remains whole.

Matsson laughed softly, shaking his head.

- Between us, if Kendall had introduced me to you before, I would have signed any contract he asked for.

You stopped in the middle of the gesture of putting out the cigarette, crossing your arms instinctively. The short laugh that escaped was dry, almost sharp.

- This is somewhat inappropriate, considering the context.

Matsson tilted his head, a smile that was half fun, half provocation forming on his lips.

- Don't worry, it just makes everything more... interesting.

The comment made something turn in your stomach. His disconnection from the seriousness of the situation was as absurd as it was annoying. For him, it seemed like a game, a casual provocation, but you felt the weight of the inadequacy. Taking a step back, you adjusted your coat with calculated calm before answering firmly:

- Well, I think I've spent too much time outside.

He didn't move, he just kept smiling in that almost defiant way, as if he was testing his limits. You turned around and started walking back, but the discomfort persisted. Even without looking, it was impossible to ignore the weight of his gaze burning on his back.

When he got close to the salon, he saw Kendall, and the relief was immediate. Approaching, you lightly touched his arm and murmured something quick. He nodded, casting a discreet look at you before continuing his conversation.

As you left the room, you could feel Matsson watching everything from afar, his eyes fixed on every movement. What did he think he was doing? The confusion hung over you as you went up to the room, trying to remove the discomfort of that interaction.

After dinner, when most people were already starting to disperse, Matsson called Shiv, Roman and Kendall to his office. The room was minimalist, with dark wooden furniture and soft lighting that seemed to cast more shadows than clarity.

Roman, as usual, did not miss the chance to make one or two comments that made him laugh, while Shiv kept a clinical look at Lukas' roles and words. Kendall was attentive, but calm, following each point with a meticulous focus.

When the subject of the agreement finally sold out, Roman was the first to get up, with

Shiv going right behind. Kendall, in turn, mentioned accompanying them, but Matsson's voice interrupted him, casual, but firm.

- Kendall, stay a little longer. I want to exchange an idea with you.

Kendall stopped halfway, looking at the brothers. Shiv hesitated for a moment, narrowing his eyes, but ended up leaving without saying anything. The door closed with a soft click, leaving the two alone.

Lukas went to the bar in the corner of the room, the steps deliberately slow. He took a bottle of whiskey and poured two glasses, handing one to Kendall before casually leaning back on the counter. His smile had that ambiguous quality - friendly, but provocative.

- You know, you have an interesting team. - He started, turning the glass in his hand. - A little... predictable, maybe, but interesting.

Kendall laughed low, almost automatically, while taking a sip.

- Yeah, they do what they need to do.

Lukas tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening.

- Someone from your team caught my attention.

Kendall raised an eyebrow, curious, but still relaxed.

- Really?

- Yes. - Lukas took another sip, savoring the moment. - An assistant of yours, I imagine. She tried to stay professional, but... fuck, what a woman.

Kendall laughed lightly, shaking her head as if the situation were an internal joke.

- I didn't know she was your type.

Matsson arched his eyebrows, as if he were facing something too obvious to be discussed.

- Are you slutty? Damn, the woman is fucking hot. I tried to start a conversation, but she didn't make it easy.

Kendall let out a more genuine laugh now, completely certain that Matsson was talking about Jess. He imagined the assistant, who always seemed shy and out of place, trying to avoid the company's buyer.

- Well, that probably blew her mind. This kind of situation is not exactly her strong point.

Matsson shrugged, the smile loaded with subtext.

- Maybe. But nothing that a little... persistence can't solve.

Kendall still laughed, not realizing the true focus of the comments.

- Okay, good luck with that.

Matsson raised the glass, as if toasting to the "challenge", but the malicious glow in his eyes suggested much more. Finally, he changed the subject, but the tension in the air persisted, hovering between the two as something that would not be easily dissipated.

__________________________

The next morning, as soon as Kendall appeared, Roman intercepted him right on his arrival for breakfast, looking more curious than worried.

- So, Ken, what did Matsson want with you yesterday?

Kendall sighed, already anticipating Roman's insistence. In addition to having been briefly frightened by the abrupt arrival of his brother.

- Relax, man. I won't sell the company without you. - Kendall answers with a light smile with a humorous tone.

Roman, however, rolled his eyes, impatient.

- What did he want?

Kendall hesitated for a moment, but ended up letting out a short laugh while lowering her tone of voice.

- No big deal. He just wanted to talk about an assistant of mine.

- Assistant? - Roman narrowed his eyes, his expression confused.

- Yeah, I don't know, Jess. He said he thought she was hot or something like that. - Kendall gave a light laugh. - Surprising, right? Like, who would have thought?

Roman blinked, the plug suddenly falling, and his expression became incredulous. He grabbed Kendall's arm, pulling him away from curious ears.

- Ken, are you serious? - Kendall frowned in confusion, with no answer to what her brother meant by that. After all, why would he lie about that?

Roman rubbed his face, as if he needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts.

- Man, I hate being the bearer of the bad news, but... he wasn't talking about Jess.

Kendall kept not understanding, already getting impatient.

- What the fuck do you mean by that?

Roman lowered his voice even more, but the tone carried all the drama that only he knew how to apply.

- He was talking about your wife, Ken.

Kendall's face hardened, the laughter disappeared immediately.

- What?

- Do you remember that day at Waystar? He saw her passing by and, fuck, I swear, the guy almost drooled on the glass of my living room. It was so uncomfortable that I had to invent something on the spot.

- And what did you say, Roman? - Kendall asked slowly, her eyes narrowed.

Roman raised his hands, half defensive, half cynical.

- I said she was your assistant, okay? I thought you were helping. The guy was literally looking at her as if it were dessert.

Kendall ran her hand over her face, taking a deep breath, as if she wanted to punch a wall.

- Did you say she was my assistant?

- Yes, because Lukas was one step away from asking for her number. You know how he is. I thought I was playing fair for you. I thought that, because I was an assistant, he would lose interest, I don't know.

Kendall closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was counting to ten.

- And now he thinks he can talk to me about it as if it were a trophy he wants to conquer?

Roman shrugged, casting an almost apologetic look.

- Welcome to the world of Lukas Matsson. He's a cretin with an ego the size of fucking Norway.

Roman patted Kendall's shoulder before walking away, but Kendall stood still for a moment, looking at the floor, clearly trying to decide what her next step would be.

The worst was not only Matsson's behavior, but what it meant. It was a constant reminder that he was, of his own free will, about to deliver everything: Waystar, ATN, the legacy that his family carried, no matter how sick it was.

Kendall tried to focus on work for the rest of the day, but it was impossible to ignore. Whenever Matsson made a comment that seemed on the verge of something inappropriate, Roman exchanged tense glances with Kendall, as if he was expecting an explosion at any moment.

And, of course, there was the ATN.

Kendall knew that selling Waystar was already a complicated decision, but including ATN in the package? That was simply handing over all the weapons to the enemy. With the presidential elections coming, the ATN was more than a tool; it was a weapon of influence on a large scale. Leaving that in Matsson's hands was giving him a power that not even Logan would have dared to deliver.

___________________________

That same night, Kendall finally consolidated his decision. He knew that Shiv would never support him in this plan, so he went straight to what really mattered: convincing Roman. Manipulating her brother, twisting the arguments until they made sense to both of them, was something Kendall did with the skill of someone who had spent his whole life watching Logan. And, like Logan, he felt no remorse for leaving Shiv out. She was brilliant, but also mercilessly practical, and at this moment, Kendall needed something more emotional, something that only Roman could offer.

The next day, the morning was tense, but Kendall barely seemed to notice. He maintained his professional posture, and when the right time came, he set up the scene. During the meeting on a mountain trail, he pressured Matsson with insinuations about the fragility of GoJo's numbers and the potential increase in Waystar's value. It was a dangerous dance, but Kendall knew exactly where to step to make Matsson hesitate. The plan was moving slowly, but accurately.

At night, after dinner, Kendall was visibly closer to you. Throughout the day, he had left small gestures of proximity: his hand resting on the lower part of your back while you moved through the hall, one arm on the back of your chair. It was atypical for him, and you were surprised, but you didn't complain.

Already in the room, the dim light of the lamp next to the bed barely illuminated the room, but it was enough to highlight Kendall's tense expression as he closed the door behind him. He walked up to you slowly, his fingers running through his hair in an automatic gesture of frustration, before letting the weight of his body fall on the edge of the bed.

- Roman is with me - he said, without preamble, his gaze fixed on the floor. He tilted his head to you, his eyes softer, but still full of concern. - That's already something.

You frowned, closing the book you had in your hands and putting it aside.

- Okay, but what exactly are we talking about here?

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands before turning completely to you. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost conspiratorial:

- I'm going to screw this deal. Make Matsson give up even before he gets to the council.

Your stomach jumped a little with the confidence in his voice, but you kept the expression neutral.

- And how do you intend to do that? - he asked, hesitantly.

- Force the bar. Inflate the numbers. Throwing enough shit on the table until he thinks it's not worth it.

You were silent for a moment, processing everything he had just said. It was risky, of course, but the part of you who knew the game well knew it wasn't impossible. Still, there was something in his tone, in his gestures, that suggested that he wanted more than just his approval.

- Ken... - you started, but he cut you off.

- And you? Do you have another idea? Because, honestly, I'm open to suggestions.

He hesitated. Of course there was something - the letter that no one else seemed to be thinking about. But it was risky. Not only for Kendall, but for you too.

- It's not exactly conventional - you started, carefully choosing the words. - But we've done things like this before.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile thrown on his face.

- Okay, before your father passed away he kind of chose the next president, didn't he? Maybe... If you ensure that one of the candidates wins, but on the condition that the agreement is barred...

- Politics? - He laughed softly, more out of disbelief than humor. - Are you suggesting that I use ATN to create a political advantage and bar Matsson?

- And why not? The ATN takes care of him being elected, and everything is very simple: an election for favors to Waystar.

He didn't answer immediately. He was just looking at you, his eyes loaded with something difficult to decipher, as if he was evaluating not only the weight of your words, but you whole. Then, suddenly, a slow smile formed, that typical Kendall expression when an idea consumed him completely. Without warning, he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours almost desperately, as if you had just delivered the solution to all his problems.

- Damn, I fucking love you. - He murmured, his forehead touching yours while a small smile still hovered on his lips.

You couldn't avoid a laugh, half surprised, half enchanted, but full of the lightness that he seemed so desperate to feel.

At the same time, in Matsson's office, Shiv entered with a confidence almost identical to Kendall's, carrying on his shoulders the posture of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Shiv entered Lukas Matsson's office with calculated steps, like someone who knew the weight of his own presence. He was at the bar, absently fiddling with a bottle of whiskey, but turned around when he saw it. A provocative smile appeared almost immediately.

- Oh, Roy who really knows what he's doing. What an honor.

She ignored the sarcasm, approaching with the usual posture: absolute confidence. Shiv knew he loved a power game and wanted to make him confused about what piece she represented on that board.

- We need to talk, Lukas. Of course, my brother is... complicating things.

He poured himself a glass and offered her another one, which Shiv accepted without taking his eyes off him.

- Complicating? - He arched an eyebrow, leaning casually. - It's a polite way of saying that he's trying to fuck with the agreement.

- Well, considering the circumstances, it doesn't surprise me.

Matsson tilted his head, interested.

- Circumstances?

Shiv turned the liquid in the glass, taking his time to choose the words. She knew that the next move would be crucial.

- Before we go for this, I want something from you.

He laughed briefly, surprised by the audacity.

- Like what?

- A guarantee that, if I help you, my place in all this will be solid. No unexpected turnaround, no last-minute change of plans.

Lukas blinked, clearly intrigued.

- Are you serious?

- Always. - She took a sip of the whiskey. - You need someone who knows how to deal with things... and I need to know that, at the end of this, I won't be just a pawn.

Shiv observed his reaction with a subtle smile, as if he knew exactly the direction the conversation would take. She leaned back in the chair, keeping her eyes fixed on Lukas, while he still seemed to process her proposal. She had the feeling that he was beginning to realize the weight of his words, but still not enough to accept the offer without question.

- And what are you going to give me in return, then? - Lukas asked, more genuine now, as if the negotiation had begun.

She didn't hesitate.

- Kendall. - The word fell like a silent command, and she watched him, seeing the surprise twinkle in her eyes.

- Kendall? - He repeated, the disbelief evident in his voice.

- I want you to keep him in control. I'll help you deal with it, keep it more... tied to the agreement. But what I need is to know that my role in your structure will be clear and definitive. I'm not someone who submits to uncertainties.

Lukas was silent for a moment, watching her more intensely now. He realized that the conversation was not only about business, but about power and control. Shiv wasn't there to ask for favors, she was negotiating something much more valuable.

- And what do you think I need to know exactly? - Lukas asked, leaning forward. He seemed to want to better understand what was at stake, but something in the way he looked at her said that he was also considering the impact of this for himself.

- Something about Kendall, of course. But also about who he has next to him. You know, his wife is not just another woman in the equation. She's... strategic. Before being Kendall's wife, she already had influence, an influence that is not seen in the media, but that is very real. Politics, maybe. Real power, not this spotlight show you love. And, of course, she was always his right-hand man, helping him get where he got.

Matsson was silent, his expression changing as he assimilated Shiv's words. He tried to connect the pieces, and the surprise soon turned into a smile of recognition.

- I'll make sure Kendall doesn't destroy the agreement. I'll help you keep him on the right track. And in the end, you'll need someone like me to make sure everything goes as planned.

Lukas was silent for a moment, evaluating her, before giving a low laugh, full of understanding.

Lukas let out a short and incredulous laugh, his smile widening.

- Damn, you Roy really hate your own family, don't you? - He said, the sharp sarcasm, but his eyes shining with something darker, almost fascinated.

Shiv tilted his head slightly, an ironic smile touching his lips.

Without saying anything else, she deposited the empty glass on the table with a slight click, keeping her gaze fixed on him for a moment that seemed to last longer than necessary. So, he got up with the calculated grace of those who always know the next move and walked out of the room, leaving Lukas with the trail of his presence and the sound of his jumps echoing in the silent space.

After Shiv's departure, Lukas Matsson remained motionless for a few moments, his gaze fixed on the door she had closed behind him. A slow smile formed on his lips, but it wasn't just satisfaction - it was something deeper, almost voracious. You.

Kendall's wife.

Lukas got up from the couch and walked to the window, the whiskey glass turning in his hand. He stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment, his breathing a little heavier. There was something electric, a mixture of irritation, fascination and a barely disguised excitement.

With a quick movement, he took his cell phone in his pocket and typed his name. In seconds, the information appeared: the first photo showed you next to Kendall at an event, the haugty look, a perfect smile, but distant. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing every detail of the image.

He moved on to the next photo. You alone, greeting some big guy at a formal event. Impeccable posture, wearing power as if it were a second skin. The almost non-existent smile was just enough to comply with the protocol.

A wave of irritation passed through Lukas. How had your team let something so grotesque pass? They had done a thorough research on Kendall and all his surroundings, but they hadn't realized that the person next to him was more than a wife.

Another article caught his attention, and he clicked. Your maiden's last name. Political connections. Zero direct involvement with the media, but an evident reach in other circles of power. Lukas laughed dryly, almost incredulous. You didn't need Waystar to be relevant.

He found another photo. You in a tight dress, walking alone to an event. Every line of his body seemed designed to exude control and elegance. Lukas pressed his lips, his jaw contracting. How did Kendall get someone like that? The thought hit him hard, a mixture of mockery and indignation.

He rested his hand on the bar, the smile on his face now a mixture of contempt and challenge. Kendall, with all her flaws and insecurities, had conquered something that seemed so out of reach. Maybe that was luck. Or maybe it was you.

The heat of the whiskey burned his throat, but it was not enough to relieve the tension that grew in his body. Every detail about you was like a piece of a puzzle that he wanted to assemble. How could someone so strategic, so imposing, be next to someone as pathetic as Kendall?

Leaving his cell phone aside, Lukas leaned back at the window, his gaze fixed on the horizon. You weren't just a challenge.

_______________________________

A/N: Okay, I know we ran over some things here, but I just couldn't contain my obsession, sorry!! 🫠

masterlist

xoxo, bebe🫶🏼💕

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solestixx · 8 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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hunzzzzz · 11 months ago

Text

Fight for you - Chapter 3 : The exes

Kendall Roy x original female character

TW : SMUT !!! Read at your own risk 😩🤚🏽

A/N : okay so this is really long 11k+ words I’m sorry. I was gonna write it in 2 parts but it just needed to be all together !!

I woke up the next morning, with a smile on my face, which faded as quick as it came. I stuck my tongue down Kendall Roys throat. I groaned, cradling my head in my hands, how could I have been so reckless? Allowing myself to get swooped up by his sweet words. This was a future scandal just bubbling beneath the surface, ready to erupt any second. I had worked too hard, to get to the position which I’m at now at Waystar, and to jeopardise that over this man was not worth it. And with that I cut off the wings of the butterflies, not allowing myself to get lost in them again. Vowing to think with my head, and not my vagina from now on.

I had managed to successfully avoid Kendall all morning, the distance was necessary, my mind scrambled to mush when he was close, all logic flew out the window.

At around lunch time, I heard a light tap on my door, my heart skipped a beat as my mind went to Kendall, but to my luck it was Steve.

Myself and Steve had become more than colleagues over the years, I considered him my closest friends. We oversaw numerous projects together, bounced ideas off of each other. We had synergy, he was the only person in my department who didn't see me as the enemy. He wasn't trying to stab me in the back at any given chance, instead we both wholeheartedly supported each other.

“Hope I'm not interrupting”, he grinned, strolling in and plonking down on the chair in front of my desk.

“Not at all.” I smiled, shutting my laptop. “What's up?”

“Lunch at our spot?” He asked, holding his hands together in a prayer. “I’m starving, and I fear if I eat the cafeteria food one more time this week, I might die from malnutrition or food poisoning or maybe even a combination of both.”

Feeling my stomach rumble, I agreed, and decided to ignore Kendall's message requesting to meet him for lunch. I needed a distraction, to rid myself of him living in my mind rent free. We made our way to a little cafe tucked away in a quiet street, only a 10 minute walk from work. We sat down with our regular order.

“So what’s going on with you,” he asked with a knowing look, “I hear you're entangled with Kendall Roy?”

“Oh great. So that's spread," I groaned. This is exactly what I was afraid of when he showed up at the 9th floor yesterday, unannounced.

“He's actually insufferable,” I felt guilty for lying, but what else was I supposed to say? Admit that I indulged in a steamy makeout with the COO of our company the night before?

“He's just invested in my project, it was really random, I think he's just trying to prove something to his father,” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“Mhm, invested in your project or invested in you?” He gave me a questioning look.

“Please, I wouldn't go near him with a 10 foot pole. Trust me.” Another lie.

“Yeah good, I thought maybe you were going through a quarter life crisis. He's bad news, don't get caught up in it,” He warned me.

After my previous relationship almost ended me, Steve had grown quite protective of me like an older brother I never had.

“I appreciate the concern. Thank you, but I promise you that will never happen. I'm just keeping my head down, working on this project with him. The sooner it's done, the sooner he'll be out of my hair.” I reassured Steve.

“Okay, okay," he nodded, easily convinced, “But now that I have you here, I need to ask you for a favour.”

“No, absolutely not. Whatever fight you have going on with Catherine this time. I'm not getting involved, last time-” I began defensively crossing my arms over my chest not wanting to get involved in whatever tiff he and his girlfriend –who I had grown to adore– had going on.

“Jesus woman, will you let me finish.” He cut me off, rolling his eyes. “I was going to ask if you would come to the Waystar charity Gala with me tonight.” He finished looking up at me with his puppy dog eyes. “Please, Catherine’s out of town this week and I need a pretty lady on my arm if I'm going to get any donations.”

“You want me to spend my Friday evening at a work event? Sorry Steve but it's a hard pass,” I shook my head.

“Please Harper, I’ll owe you one. Lunch on me for the next year.'' I sighed, finally agreeing to go, seeing as he was so desperate.

It's the least I could do to repay him for the endless favors he had done for me. Staying late at the office helping pick up my slack, covering for me when I took time off due to my devastating break up.

We made our way back to the office, after a much needed catch-up on all the gossip.

“Yup and now she’s pregnant, and she's keeping it.” Steve chuckled as we stepped into the lobby.

I threw my head back laughing, clutching onto his arm, almost losing my balance. “Oh my god, shut up. I'm gonna pee.” I said in between giggles, the large coke I had for lunch was catching up to me. “We need to stop talking before someone hears us.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw the last person I wanted to see approach us.

“What's so funny?” Kendall asked, his eyes fixated on my hand on Steve's arm, which I immediately dropped. His eyes flashing with anger, possibly even jealousy?

Steve wasn't unattractive, he was a conventionally good looking guy, he was tall with broad shoulders. I know the women on the 9th floor swooned over him, running to make copies for him with the snap of his fingers, waiting by the door with his coffee in hand every morning. But to me he was just Steve, the guy who burps in my face after inhaling a burger or comes to me with his endless relationship problems.

“Nothing.” I quickly sobered up from my lunchtime giddiness, and put on a facade of professionalism.

“Uh-huh.” He didn't seem convinced, he finally looked over to Steve and plastered on a fake smile, “Kendall Roy,” He stuck out his hand.

“The man himself. Steve Murphy, pleasure to meet you,” Steve put on a fake smile matching Kendalls, giving him a firm handshake, a silent standoff. The tension in the lobby was heavy between both men who disapproved of each other, both for their own reasons.

Kendall finally released the handshake and turned to me pressing his lips in a straight line, “Could I grab you for a second Harper?”

“Yeah sure, Steve go ahead, I’ll see you later,” Steve furrowed his brows, but didn’t press any further though I could tell he wanted to. He gave a curt nod and left.

Kendall guided me to a quiet corner, placing his hand on the small of my back, but I swatted it away, weary of on-lookers. The last thing I needed was more rumors going around about me. People were just starting to forget that I was the sad, pathetic woman whose fiance had an affair with her best friend.

Kendall stood across from me with jaw clenched.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked, deciding to cut through the tension.

“I thought you didn't go out for lunch? Fucking, with your, uh, endless piles of work you have,” he narrowed his eyes.

“First of all not that it's even any of your business but I had some free time today. And second of all, I couldn't say no to Steve, I owed him one.”

“Uh-huh. You owed him one?” He probed, as if it was an interrogation and I was some kind of criminal on the loose.

“Don't worry about it,” I waved him off, “Okay if that is all, then I really have to get back,” I tried to step past him to leave, but he blocked my path

“No, actually, uh, I did want to ask you something,” he cleared his throat, a flash of nervousness breaking through. “Are you free tonight? I have this charity Gala thing I have to give a speech at, and I was wondering if you would, uh come with me?”

“Oh,” I stared at him blankly, “I actually already have a date for that.” I made a mental note in my head to thank Steve and give him a massive kiss on the cheek, for saving me from having to be Kendall's date.

“With who?” He asked, his mouth agape, “Is it that Stewart guy?

“It's Steve and like I said it’s none of your business,” I leaned in to whisper in his ear, before making my exit. “But I'll see you there,” I smiled over my shoulder, leaving him standing in the lobby, dumbfounded.

I left work early and stopped by a boutique on the way home. I had to dress to impress if I was going to help Steve land some donations tonight. Picking out a dress took more time than I had intended, I wanted to look good tonight, not for anyone in particular. Though the thought of Kendall kept creeping its way into my mind, I wondered which gown would he like? If he preferred red or black. I tried to convince myself that I wanted to feel sexy for myself and not for anyone else’s approval or validation.

I rushed home cutting it close to 7 pm, I quickly showered and began getting ready. Steve was picking me up at 8 and J could already hear him complaining about my tardiness. I finished doing my makeup, adding a deep red lipstick. I slipped into my gown adjusting myself in the mirror. I had decided on wearing a black satin gown, with a deep plunge neckline. I couldn’t remember the last time I had put in this much effort for an event, or a person. I hated myself for caring so much about it.

Text message

Steve : Uber. Downstairs. Now. Hurry.

I hurriedly grabbed my valentino clutch, which I had thrifted when I first moved to the city, throwing my phone, cigarettes and lipstick in before scurrying out the door.

“God could you have taken any longer,” Steve sighed dramatically, as I slid into the backseat, “It's 8:05, what time did we agree on?”

“Calm your tits, being 5 minutes late isn’t gonna kill anyone,” I rolled my eyes, checking my makeup in my compact mirror.

Steve took a closer look at me, taking in my appearance. “Damn,” he let out a low whistle, “you went from 0 to 100 real quick. It's like an episode of catfish,” he chuckled, “Who are you looking this good for?”

“Your dad,” I retorted, laughing when I saw his scrunch his face in disgust. “No you’re right, I should've pulled up in sweats and glasses, that would really attract all the 70 year old men into emptying their pockets for you.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Awww you did all this for me?” He smiled, clutching a hand over his heart, wiping away a fake tear. “That's so kind of you. How can I ever repay you?”

“Shut up,” I swatted his arm, “Drinks are on you.”

The banquet hall was bustling with people who were much more important than me. I looked around at the sea of women wearing designer dresses from fendi to dior as they clutched an arm around men almost triple their ages.

Steve immediately began mingling, or as he called it ‘networking’, and of course he dragged me along. He grabbed us 2 complimentary champagnes from the wait staff and began speaking to an older gentleman.

“Mr Monroe, glad you could join us tonight. Where's the Mrs?” Steve greeted him, shaking his hand.

“Oh, you know Mrs Monroe, she was in the Bahamas last and now I'm hearing she's in Milan for fashion week. She won't rest until she bleeds me dry from all I’m worth,” He grumbled, “And who's your lovely date here?”

Mr Monroe glanced over at me before his eyes dropped down to my chest, lingering there for a moment. A married man, no, actually a married senior citizen, just checked me out. The urge to vomit all over him was so strong, but I pushed it adside. With a tight lipped smile I brought my hand up to shake his instead.

“This is my dear friend Harper, Harper Aly,” Steve introduced me as the older man grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it, with no consent whatsoever. I quickly pulled my hand back to my side, forcing a laugh as Steve continued talking.

This continued for another hour, we moved through the crowd of prehistoric men, buttering them up as they objectified me, raking their eyes up and down my body as they licked their crusty lips.

I was on my 4th glass of champagne, but I needed something stronger if I was going to make it through the rest of the night. Steve handed me his card and I made my way over to the bar.

I waved a hand to the bartender trying to get his attention, but he was preoccupied serving a handful of people. I found myself glancing around, hoping to see a familiar set of hazel eyes. I was acting like a lovestruck teenager at prom hoping to lock eyes with her crush.

“What can I get ya princess?” I turned to put a face to the voice, shocked when I recognised who it was. “Yup, that’s right. Soak in the glory,” He held a hand up gesturing to himself.

“It’s okay. I got it.” I flashed Steve’s card.

“Roman fuck off and stop harassing the donor’s,” said the red head beside him. “Hi, Siobhan Roy,” she smiled politely, pushing past the shorter man to greet me.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Harper Aly,” I smiled, clasping her hand, awkwardly shifting on my feet, feeling intimidated under her icy blue eyes.

“So what brings a fine piece of arm candy like yourself here tonight? Let me guess your sugar daddy promised you a new Birkin?” Roman Roy was just as obnoxious as everyone made him out to be.

“Actually I'm here for work. And that’s quite inappropriate coming from the co-COO,” I grimaced, not even trying to hide my disgust.

“Oh my god Roman, you're disgusting. Go hit on Gerri or something. I'm sorry about him, he has some deep rooted mommy issues,” Siobhan apologized for her brother's crude comment.

“Fuck off, Shiv,” he snapped pushing past her to lean over the bar, “Hey! Yoohoo bartender! Over here! Roman Roy here!” Roman yelled, getting the bartender's attention, as he frantically rushed over, “2 whiskey on the rocks and …..” he looked over at me, ushering me to order what I wanted.

“Seriously, it’s fine I can get my own-”

“Just fucking tell him what you want or you’re fired,” he cut me off with a devilish grin.

“Two gin and tonics, please and make it a double,” I reluctantly answered.

“See, now was that so hard?” He smirked, “Two gin and tonics for the lady and make it quick, I don’t have all night,” the bartender nodded and instantly began concocting our drinks.

“You can put away daddy’s card princess, I got this,” his voice low as he leaned into my ear. I looked around trying to find his sister who seemed to have him on a leash. “Are you scared? I don’t bite,” he murmured, “But no promises.”

“Scared? Please,” I snorted, “sorry if my repulsion has been misconstrued.”

“Princess, don't forget, I still own Waystar Royco. And you’re at the bottom of the food chain,” he laughed.

“Own? That's so interesting, because last I checked you’re not Logan Roy. You're just a sad little boy fighting for daddy's attention. Begging him to notice you, oh please daddy, please let me take over." I mocked pleading with my hands together.

“Dont fucking turn me on right now,” he bit his lip.

“I find you so repulsive,” my body involuntarily shuddered.

“Hey Rome, have you seen Kendall?” A brunette asked, cutting into our conversation.

“I don't fucking know maybe, have you checked the bathrooms? He's probably there snorting lines?” He shrugged.

“Rome. I'm serious,” She said, pressing her lips into a straight line. She finally caught my eye and forced a smile. We both looked over to Roman waiting for an introduction.

“Uh yea sure, Rava, Harper Aly from waystar, I don't know what the fuck she does there. I’m guessing the janitor by her looks.” He pointed toward me, “Harper, Rava Roy, my brother's estranged wife,” He said flatly pointing towards the other woman.

He grabbed his drinks, throwing two hundred dollar bills on the counter, and with that he was gone— leaving me alone with Kendall's wife? I stood there gobsmacked, processing the nuclear bomb Roman had just dropped on me. Kendall was married. Kendall was married when he kissed me.

I quickly excused myself, grabbing Steve and I’s drinks from the counter. I couldn’t engage with Rava, guilt pooled in the pit of my stomach.

I downed both the drinks, and grabbed 2 glasses of god knows what, from a passing by waiter and drank them swiftly. I felt the alcohol burn down my throat, hoping it would calm me down. My mind was the aftermath of Hiroshima. I couldn't think straight, or even walk straight for that matter. How could I have been so fucking stupid, tears pricked at my eyes. How could I have trusted so blindly, again.

I spotted Steve sitting down at our table, slumping down in the seat beside him.

“Hey, what took you so long? He asked, looking up from his phone, “Where's our drinks?”

“Oh shit, yeah, the line at the bar was too long,” I muttered keeping my eyes glued to the table.

“What's wrong?” He asked, sensing that something was off with me, “Did you see someone?” He studied the slight tremble in my voice, my flushed skin, my lips curled into a frown.

“Hmm, no,” I shook my head vigorously, trying to seem convincing, “I'm just tired,” I offered him a weak smile, hoping he wouldn't hear the slight slur in my voice. He just stared at me, contemplating whether to push it or not but ultimately decided against it.

“Okay but just a heads up—” he began, before getting interrupted by the screeching of a mic, everyone rushed to be seated, the speeches were starting soon.

“What?” I looked up at him with heavy eyelids, propping my head on my hand. At this point, I knew that he knew I was drunk.

He shook his head, disregarding it muttering something about it not being important. The wait staff made their way around to serve wine. I insisted that they fill my glass to the brim. I heard Steve mumbling something about bringing some water to one of the waiters.

“I think you should slow down,” he eyed me as I continued to innocently sip my wine. I chose to ignore him, until he forcefully took my half empty glass off me, handing it off to a passing waiter.

He cut me off before I could protest, “Look I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you decided to get drunk at a work event. But we need to make it through to the end of the night,” He scolded me, pushing a glass of water towards me.

“Whatever dad,” I rolled my eyes slowly sipping on my water.

The speeches dragged on, but I wasn't listening to a single word of it, instead my mind was heavy, weighed down by concrete thoughts of one of one man. How he had manipulated me, how he had convinced me he was good, different. How I let myself believe him so easily. Had I learned nothing?

I snapped out of my thoughts as the last speaker made his way onto the stage, and there he was. The very man responsible for me trying to drown my problems in liquor.

His eyes met mine, twinkling under the spotlight as he spoke. I couldn't take it anymore, I got up mumbling to Steve that I was going to the the bathroom.

I slumped over the sink, taking in my pathetic reflection in the mirror. God, I was so embarrassing, letting Kendall affect me like this. Letting him slither his way into my life like black mould. The realisation hit me hard - I was the other woman. I let him sweep me off my feet, like a fucking idiot, but maybe that was his plan all along. A challenge in his eyes, he found a wounded bird, nurtured it back to life only to shoot it down in the end for his own enjoyment.

I scoffed at myself, spending more than I could afford on a gown just for him, a fact I wouldn't even admit to myself let alone another soul. The anger simmered in me like a pressure cooker, ready to blow any second. My self pity was quickly replaced by foul, hot fury. I left the bathroom with newfound determination. Fuck Kendall.

Yet, fate had other plans for me. As I headed back towards the hall, I collided with a broad set of shoulders.

“Oh— I'm so sorry,” I began to apologise but the words got cut off in my throat when I locked eyes with the attacker, my fucking ex-fiancé, Will.

This was officially too much for one night. Without another word I turned on my feet and fled in the other direction, I needed to get away from him. What was he even doing here in the first place? I knew I was eventually going to bump into him one day, it was inevitable, but why tonight? As if I didn’t already have enough going on. This must have been the heads up Steve was trying to give me.

“Harper please, just listen,” he pleaded, grabbing my wrist in a bruising grip, but I couldn't bear to hear it. The mere sight of him was enough to make me sick to my stomach. “Let me explain, you at least owe me that much.”

“Let you fucking explain yourself Will? No, you lost that privilege when you ended up in bed with my fucking maid of honour,” I snapped, trying to keep my composure, digging my nails into his skin, trying to claw him off me, “I don’t owe you shit. So please kindly, fuck off out of my life forever.”

Tears burned in the corner of my eyes, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me breakdown.

“Harper, just listen, I'm ready to take my part of the blame,” his eyes were stone, nothing about them was apologetic as he tightened his grip around me, “But it took 2 people to breakdown this relationship—”

“Yeah, you and my fucking so called bestfriend,'' I spat, the endless liquid poison I had consumed amplifying my rage.

My words seemed to cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention of those around us, “Will I’m being so serious, if you don’t get your hands off me I’m going to fucking scream and make a scene right here, right now.”

“Everything okay here?” A voice boomed emerging from the depths of hell, of-fucking-course Kendall made his way over to join the party, just what was missing. “She said let go.” Kendall demanded, clasping a firm hand on Will’s back, the noise echoed through the lobby, his presence adding fuel to the fire.

Will's eyes hardened as he pushed my arm out of his grasp and sulked away. I tumbled back from the force, Kendall quickly steadied me bringing a hand to my waist. I ripped Kendall’s arm off me and took off, almost tripping over my feet, ignoring his calls.

The cold air nipped at my skin, I continued walking, with no sense of direction. I couldn't stay there for a second longer. I felt suffocated by my thoughts.

I was beginning to get a tension headache, it was all too much now. My ex-fiance cornered me and tried to tell me I was to blame for his affair and to pile on top of that Kendall, my boss had involved me in an affair, while failing to mention he was married.

“Harper, wait!” Kendall called out from behind me, jogging to catch up, “Are you okay?”

I was so sick of people asking me that. No I wasn't fucking okay, my life was falling apart at a rate so fast that I couldn’t even pick up the pieces and try to repair it. Each time I attempted to pick up one piece, three more came crashing down.

“Leave me alone, Kendall,” I shouted, picking up my pace, but it was proving difficult in 4 inch heels. He was the last person I wanted to speak to. I was a couple blocks away from the venue now.

He grabbed my aching wrist in an attempt to stop me. I flinched, sucking in a sharp breath.

Kendall let go of me in an instant, “Did he hurt you?” His eyes were two angry black points, his fists clenched by his side.

I rubbed my wrist, trying to soothe the tender skin.

“Did he fucking hurt me? What about you kendall?” I lashed out, jabbing my finger in his chest. “Oh but of course you would never hurt me right? Because you’ve convinced everyone that you're such a great guy, always coming to my rescue. Is that what you want to hear?”

He shook his head trying to understand where my aggression was coming from, how long did he think he could keep up his lie for?

“Fuck off and have a nice life with your wife,” I turned around and took off again, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he was going to pull out of his ass.

“Harper, wait. I can explain.” I heard his footsteps still following me, from a distance. The audacity he had to continue following me after I had caught him red handed. What was it with men tonight and trying to explain all their fuck ups to me. First Will and now kendall.

“That's great, go tell your wife.”

“Harper please, fucking, just wait a second,” he persisted, running ahead of me and planting himself in front of me, his body towering over mine, “My wife and I—”

“I honestly don't care what you have to say. Nothing is going to change the fact that you're married. There's nothing for you to explain. So please just go,” I yelled exasperated, closing my eyes not wanting to look in the eyes.

Bitter tears escaped from my eyes, “Whatever happened on the roof, just forget about it. It was a mistake. It was my mistake.”

I hated myself for crying, I didn’t want him to think I was hurt by him, they were tears of frustration encouraged by my drunken mind.

“Rava and I are separated,” He sighed. My eyes snapped open hearing his confession, “We've been separated for months.”

I crossed my arms over my chest shivering, as the wind picked up. I felt him gently place his blazer around my shoulders.

“It doesn't matter if you're separated, Kendall, you still should have told me.” l said, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.

“I thought you knew?” He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Everybody knows, it’s public knowledge.”

“I told you everything about myself, and you couldn’t mention this major detail about your life?” I looked up at him with flaming eyes.

“You know what it doesn’t matter anymore,” I held my hands up, backing away from him, “We kissed one time. It should’ve never happened. And it will never happen again.”

“Do you really mean that?” His voice was heavy with regret. “Or are you just trying to push me away because you're afraid?”

I pinched my nose, taking a deep breath, “You are still my boss, this can't happen." I strained to explain, my voice cracking. “Unlike you I wasn’t born into wealth, I had to scrape my way up from the bottom and I’ll be damned if I let you tarnish my reputation. Us even speaking right now is inappropriate, anyone could see this and report it to HR.”

I didn't expect him to understand my concerns at all, he came from money, I didn’t. We lived in different worlds. His was full of private jet rides, maids, chefs, his biggest worry was trying to take over his father’s company. My world was subway rides, living off of cheap coffee and struggling to make rent each month.

“Harper, you don't have to worry about any of that, I promise you. I'll take care of you. I am HR, everything goes through me,” he argued, gently taking my hands in his. The street lights illuminated his to appear a lighter honey color, “If you want this, I can make it work. We can make it work.”

Could we make it work? If he was separated, it still wouldn't be easy. His life would still be entangled with his ex-wife until they officially got divorced. Would they even get divorced, what if they reconciled? He was still my boss, rumors spread quickly. Did I really want all my accomplishments to be tainted by him?

“I need another drink,” I muttered, meticulously weighing out the pros and cons.

“Alright, let's get you another drink then. Let's ditch this gala, I can't stand to be around those people anymore,” He smirked victoriously, leaning in to meet my lips.

“Not here,” I pressed my hands on his chest, even though I so desperately wanted him, “we can't be seen together in public. I don't need another scandal.”

“Okay,” He thought for a moment, I could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to find a way to keep me close to him, “Let's go back to my place, my chef can make us something to eat, since we missed dinner.”

I pressed my lips together, conflicted. Back to his place was suggesting more than just dinner. Everything was happening so quickly, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to dive headfirst into the unknown. But the alcohol pulsing through my blood spoke louder to me, overpowering all logic. After taking one look at his plump lips, flashbacks of our kiss came back to me. Right now I wanted him— badly. I didn’t care about the complications or risks that plagued my mind moments ago.

“I also have a fully stocked bar,” He enticed me, all my nervous thoughts seemed to melt away. It was the final push I needed, the reassurance that I could drown any remaining doubts in the haze of more alcohol.

“Lead the way,” I gave him a tentative smile.

“My driver is around back,” he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, leading me to the car.

He opened the backdoor for me, and slid in next to me. He was pressed up beside me, his arm now around my waist, hand resting on my hip, his knee squished against mine. With the click of a button a partition separated us from his driver.

He turned to me, his gaze lingering on the silk gown that clung to my curves, "You look beautiful," he remarked, his voice soft and sincere. "The gown suits you perfectly."

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at his compliment, a warmth spreading through me despite my efforts to remain composed.

"You’re not the first person to check me out tonight," I murmured, my lips brushing against his ear lobe, “but you are the only person that didn’t make me feel nauseous after.”

"I waited all night to tell you that, from the minute you stepped foot into the hall," He confessed, "When I was making my speech, I could barely focus, seeing you sat there, looking like, like a fucking Greek godess."

“So why didn't you say it to me before?” I pouted, hearing the words I had been longing to hear all night. Not from the million other people there, but from him.

“Because I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself if you were standing in front of me,” His voice was low, in my ear sending waves of heat down my spine, aching in between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to calm myself.

He brought a hand to my jaw cradling it, “you're so fucking beautiful,” He whispered, before crashing his lips into mine, the kiss was deep yet rough. He sucked my bottom lip, a low moan escaped me.

His hands roamed my body like they had a free pass. He squeezed my ass, eliciting a gasp out of me. The mixture of alcohol and lust in my system gave me the sudden confidence to pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, I battled with his tongue for dominance.

“Kendall,” I breathed against his lips, “Your driver— he’s gonna hear….” I trailed off, losing my train of thought, as he began kissing down my neck, nipping and biting my sensitive skin, only stopping omcd the car was parked in front of his building. He stepped out offering me a hand, which I accepted, trying to calm my thrashing heart.

“God, this fucking dress was made for you,” He wrapped his arms around me, his hands resting on my ass, backing me up against the elevator wall, “Who did you wear it for?”

“I wore it for you,” I giggled, sticking my index finger in my mouth and slowly sucking it, letting it release slowly with a pop. I gently grazed my wet finger against his swollen cherry stained lips, attempting to fade away the remainder of my lipstick.

“Fuck,” He groaned, his grip tightening, “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.”

As we entered his penthouse, he leaned down to place a peck on my lips. He guided me to the kitchen. I was in awe of the size of it, covered in shining black marble, not a speck of dust in sight. Across from the kitchen, the sitting room had floor to ceiling glass windows wrapping around the entire length of the apartment.

“Shit, I forgot I sent the chefs home tonight because I had intended to have dinner at the gala,” Kendall facepalmed, shooting me an apologetic look.

“Hmm that’s okay. There was talk of a fully stocked bar, no? Or was that a lie too?” I needed something more to calm the nerves in the pit of my stomach.

“Yes, that I do have,” He clasped his hands, rubbing them together.

He had a small bar area at the end of the kitchen. There were endless shelves stocked with every type of spirit. Brands I couldn’t even pronounce, brands that I never even gave a second glance to in the liquor store, because I knew they were not in my price range.

There were freshly cut lemons and limes, an ice bucket, a mini fridge stocked with mixers. So this is what heaven looks like. I climbed up over the counter, Kendall supported my hips up to lift me up, and I landed ungracefully on the other side with a thud.

“What are you doing?” Kendall watched me with amusement.

I picked myself up, throwing a dish towel over my shoulder, “What can I get you?”

“Fuck me, hottest fucking bartender ever.” He said with a crooked smile, taking a seat on one of the barstools. “I'll take a whiskey on the rocks. When's your shift done sweetheart?”

“I don’t mix business and pleasure,” I winked, turning around to shovel some ice into a glass, grabbing one of the many bottles of expensive whiskey he had, pouring it in. I plonked a slice of lemon in it for a garnish, “And viola, there you are sir, your whiskey on the rocks.”

“Add it to my tab,” He took a sip, ”And what will the beautiful lady be drinking?”

“Hmmm, well I’ve been drinking gin tonight, but why not spice it up with some whiskey,” I made myself a drink identical to Kendall’s. I took a sip to admire my hard work and almost gagged as the corrosive liquid burned down my throat

“That is fucking horrible, how are you drinking it,” I gagged again, thinking it was a good idea to smell it and let it burn my nose too.

“Hey don't blame the drink, blame the bartender,” He shrugged, “Add some mixer, there's coke in the fridge.”

The coke made it a bit more bearable, but it still tasted like nail polish remover. I climbed over the bar again to seat myself on the barstool beside him.

Taking another sip of my drink, my nose scrunched up in disgust, “I don't know why you and your brother like Whiskey so much.”

“Oh, you met Roman?” He laughed, “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yeah he's, definitely, interesting to say the least.”

Thinking back to the gala, I remembered Steve, “Oh shit, the gala, I ditched my date, fuck. One second.”

I frantically pulled my phone out seeing the endless messages from Steve. I let him know that I had a run in with Will and was back home safe and sound, before turning my attention back to Kendall who had a quizzical look on his face.

“So this date of yours, was it the guy who was harassing you before?” He furrowed his brows, as he gripped his glass, the veins in his forearm almost bursting.

“Fuck no, my date was Steve. The guy outside….” I tilted my head back and downed the remainder of my whiskey, “was my ex-fiance.”

Kendall realized this was a difficult conversation for me. He silently reached over bringing the bottle of whiskey and coke to the counter.

“I don't even know what he was doing there,” I ran a hand through my hair. Kendall refilled my glass, which I thanked him for.

“Let me see your wrist,” He demanded, holding his hand out, gently inspecting the redness around my skin, he brought it to his lips kissing all over.

I crossed my legs trying to stop the ache that had reawoken in me. He delicately massaged my wrist, I wished he would sooth my throbbing core like that.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” There was darkness in his eyes, his teeth were clenched, but his touch was so soft in comparison.

I shook my head, taking another gulp of my drink. “Not physically at least, so it's fine,” I waved it off, not waiting to dwell on Will's malignant existence any longer

“So uh, how much money did we raise tonight?” I changed the topic.

“No fucking clue. My family is gonna be pissed that I left early. You're a bad influence on me,” He teased, refilling his glass.

“Me?” I shook my head in disbelief, “If anything you're a bad influence on me. You made me ditch poor Steve.”

“Uh-huh, well you shouldn't have gone with him in the first place,” his jealousy was making an appearance again, “If you went with me, I would have made sure no one came within a 10 meter radius of you, your glass would have never been empty, and nobody would dare let their eyes linger on you for more than a second if you were on my arm.”

His cockiness usually repulsed me, but in a strange turn of events it turned me on?

“I'll keep that in mind for next time,” I felt my cheeks flush, partially from the alcohol but also from his possessiveness over me.

“So there’s gonna be a next time, huh?” He grinned from ear to ear.

We continued chatting, Kendall started getting deep and telling me about his family, his childhood, his failed marriage. He kept prying about my personal life, trying to get to know more about me. I reluctantly gave him a few short responses.

We ended up on the sofa, comfortably sat next to each other, shoulders brushing against one another. I leaned back in the seat resting my eyes, as the room began to spin slightly. Kendall took another swig from the bottle, we had long ditched our glasses on the counter. The conversation drifted back to our exes, and this time I was too drunk to hold back, as was Kendall.

He handed the bottle back to me, “Yea, being married fucking sucks ass,” He threw up his arms in exasperation, “I fucking married the wrong person. But at the time, I was like fuck yeah this feels fucking right. This feels like forever.”

“Yeah, I like, really and I mean, like really, really dodged a bullet there. I’m like, not even mad about it. Fuck getting married,” I nodded, agreeing with him.

“100 fucking percent, fuck marriage. It ruined me.”

“But like, you’re still married? Why? Just like get a fucking divorce?”

“It’s complicated. I want to and so does she, but it’s just— pass me the fucking bottle,” He closed his eyes, taking another gulp, not even phased by it, “But it’s just fucking hard.”

“What like, don’t tell me you’re still in love with her,” I gasped, covering my mouth.

“No— no, I mean, I do love her. I’m always gonna have love for her. I’ve known her for 15 fucking years. But I don’t know, I want her to be happy,” He sighed undoing his bow tie and collar, “But we are getting a divorce, that is definitely fucking happening.”

“Mhmm,” I gave him a fist bump.

“And fucking what about Bill? What’s his deal?”

“Ugh him again,” I groaned, not even bothering to correct Kendall, “I think you have a crush on him, you bring him up more than me.”

“Come on, you just heard about my failed marriage, stop being so fucking cagey,” he playfully shoved my shoulder.

“Pass me the fucking bottle,” He handed it over to me and I took a swing of it, hissing as it made its way down my oesophagus.

“Fine, what about him? We were together since I was like 19 or maybe 20 I think. Or actually maybe 18? I don’t know, I met him in college. But I used to be a fucking idiot back then, like I’m talking crackhead level stupid. I made so many bad decisions he was definitely the fucking worst one,” I continued rambling. “It was good at first you know, he said what I wanted to hear, did what I asked of him,” I hiccuped between words, reliving my past relationship, “But like, at the same time, it wasn’t?”

Yeah, for sure,” He nodded, leaning back against the sofa with his hands resting behind his head, looking over at me, his eyes barely open, “College is the real thing to blame. You know? That’s where I met Rava and you met what’s his face.”

“You’re dead right,” I snapped my fingers, his words making complete sense in my barely functioning brain, “It’s like maybe stop fucking around and open like a book or something.”

We continued talking about everything and anything, coming up with our own philosophies that were so illogical but they made sense to us. Between us we shared one singular brain cell, after both consuming an unhealthy amount of whiskey.

Wanting to put my feet up on the sofa, I attempted to unbuckle the straps of my heels, but failed miserably. I let out an over-dramatic sigh, lying back on the sofa and stretching my legs, bringing my feet to rest in his lap.

“Can you get these off please,” I batted my lashes up at him.

“Fuck, why is there so many fucking buckles,” He grumbled as he attempted to undo the singular buckle, concentrating like he was deactivating a bomb.

He gave up and brought it up to his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth, letting my aching foot free, his hot breath on my skin sent an electric shock up my leg. He did the same with the other foot. Before looking over to me with a sinister grin and started tickling me.

“KENDALL STOP,” I shrieked, thrashing and kicking away his hands. Attempting to get my revenge I pounced on him, my fingertips tickling his neck, I was practically straddling him.

He grabbed both my hands in his. I felt him hardening under me, I grabbed his neck, closing the gap between us. He kissed me back with hunger, like he had been deprived of food and water for weeks. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth. His touch was more rough now, his fingers caressed my ass, kneading it like fine dough.

He pulled me closer to the pine scent of his body, a cigarette smoked not so long ago lingering on his shirt. I began subconsciously grinding my hips against the tent in his pants, trying desperately to create some friction to soothe my throbbing centre. His warm hands slid under the skirt of my dress, rubbing them up and down my thighs, inching them higher each time. His fingers were getting dangerously close to my soaking panties, my breath hitched. Feeling my body tense against his, he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

“Kendall ….” I said breathlessly. I looked down, feeling embarrassed, “I haven’t done this in a while. Like in a really, really long time actually.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay baby,” He released my thighs, bringing his hands out from under my dress and nudging my chin up to meet his gaze. Hearing the sweet nickname fall from his mouth turned me on even more.

“I’m just nervous,” I admitted feeling shy.

“Why? You don’t have to be nervous, I'll take care of you,” He pressed his lips to my temple.

“I’ve only been intimate with like one person.”

“You’re so fucking innocent,” he brushed my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear, “We don’t have to do anything you're not comfortable with. Just tell me to stop,” His voice was rich and frail, as he empathized. He pulled my body into an adorning embrace, holding me like I was made of glass.

“No, but I want this. I want you. Can we just take it slow?”

The realization was prominent, that there would be no going back, once I went through with it. But at that moment I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t care, I just wanted him.

His body relaxed moderately as he soothed his hands up and down my back, almost as if to assure himself of the words he had just heard.

His lips met mine again, he got up from the sofa, hoisting me up, I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me to his room. The anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed me, my heart beating out of my chest.

He gently placed me on the bed, lying me down on my back as he hovered over me, lips not leaving mine once. I traced his firm chest with my fingertips, drawing him into me. He began kissing down my neck, smiling against my skin as I let out a soft moan. Leaving a trail of kisses down to my cleavage. My dress shielded my breasts, nipples already hard through the fabric.

He brought his hands to the straps of my dress, “Can I take this off?” I nodded, no longer capable of getting any words out, my mind foggy with lust.

“So beautiful, so fucking perfect,” He pulled down my dress, admiring my exposed breasts, the cold air quickly replaced by his wet mouth as he sucked on my nipple, twirling his tongue around, cupping my other breast, squeezing it tight. Swapping over to the other, placing sloppy kisses, pushing it deeper in his mouth savoring every inch of skin. My hands tugged at his hair as pleasure took over me.

To know that I was beautiful in his eyes, made me feel beautiful.

“Kendall,” I gasped as he bit and nipped at my scorching skin. His free hand moved down from my hip to caress my inner thigh, ghosting over my panties.

“Kendall please?” I begged, so needy for his touch, spreading my legs wider for him, grinding my hips up.

He unlatched his mouth from my breast, “Is this okay?” He locked eyes with me, his hand rubbing up and down over my fabric of my panties

“Yes— yes. perfect,” I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Suspense bubbled in me, he was going so painfully slow. He slid my panties to the side, gently and languildy his fingers expertly teased my clit, rubbing soothing circles.

“Your so fucking wet, baby. How does that feel?” He cooed, my mind couldn’t even focus on what he was saying. It felt so good, I hadn’t been touched like this in so long, I was so deprived. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” I sighed. “Feels so good Ken-“ the words got cut off in my throat as he moved his digits towards my slit.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” He was enjoying this, a lazy smile playing at his lips as he watched me squirm.

His eyes burned into mine, seeing me so needy for him, so desperate for his touch, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Come on, use your words,” I should've known that he would make me beg, I should've known that he would be so good to me.

“Yes, please— please just-“ He pushed his middle finger inside me, “Just like that,” I cried out as he pumped a finger in and out of me. My mind felt hazy, he added another finger, stretching me out, pumping faster now, curling his fingers as I let out a string of moans. I whined my disappointment as he removed his fingers from me, missing the fullness.

“I need to taste you, let me taste you,” He pleaded, getting on his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed.

He hiked my dress up to my waist, hooking his fingers under my panties and pulling them down my legs, revealing my smooth mound. Panic rose in my chest, it was moving too fast, I sat up feeling self-conscious.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you,” He murmured, pressing a hand down on my chest to lay me back down.

“Let me take care of you,” He began kissing up my inner thigh, gripping his hands firmly around my hips holding me in place. He worked his way closer and closer, eventually leaning in ever so slowly and licked all the way up my slit, tasting me.

My eyes fluttered shut as he placed his hot mouth on my clit, sucking it like a pacifier, the fuzz of his stubble tickling me lightly. I could feel the pressure building up inside me, I ran my hands through this hair grasping it softly as he continued lapping his tongue up and down my slit greedily, fucking me with his tongue. His tongue travelled lower and lower, gently grazing over my tight rosebud.

“Have you ever had your ass eaten?” He looked up at me.

“No,” I squirmed, he sensed my uneasiness.

“Do you want to feel good, baby?” He asked circling his tongue around my wrinkled rosebud again, it felt fucking good, sending shivers up my spine.

“Yes, please— please make me feel good,” I begged between gasps. He gripped my ass, spreading my cheeks apart, to give himself more access as continued to worship my tight pink bud.

He opened his mouth letting a string of spit fall down and pool down, “Just relax baby.”

“Kendall,” I whimpered, as he inserted 2 digits in me again. My quivering walls grasped his fingers tightly. I was grinding my hips against him, my aching clit deprived of his attention. I needed him everywhere all at once. He brought his face back in between my legs, devouring me, sucking every crease, crevice and fold before latching onto my clit again. He alternated between fast and slow flicks of affection.

Hearing the sounds of his wet tongue on me continued building up the pressure in my lower abdomen, getting tighter and tighter. My senses heightened and my hands desperately fisted the bed sheets.

“You're so close aren't you, baby? Cum on my face,” His dirty talk, sending me over the edge, my back arching into him.

I threw my head against the mattress, eyes rolling back. My mind exploded in a white, pleasure filled haze as the sensations from his relentless assault on my clit while simultaneously pumping 2 digits in me.

Grabbing a fist full of his hair, grinding my hips against his face, I rode out my high. Legs trembling as he continued to finger me though my orgasm, he hummed in satisfaction against my clit. He removed his hands from me, placing one final tender kiss on my sensitive clit, making me jump.

He caressed my face as I panted for air, “You did so good, baby,” He cooed, stroking hair. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, making me taste myself.

I regained some composure bringing a shaky hand up and palming at his hardness through his pants.

“Fuck,” He groaned burying his head into my neck.

I hastily undid his belt buckle, he helped me shimmy his trousers and boxers off, his cock sprung out bouncing against his stomach. I wriggled out from under him, flipping us over to straddle him, rubbing my wetness against his dick.

“Fucking so good baby,” He sat up, undoing my zipper with a quick motion of his fingers and tossing my dress over his shoulder. I was fully exposed now, I felt so naked, so bare in front of him as I covered my face with my hands, feeling so small.

He brought my hands down, stroking my cheek with his thumb, “You just came on my face, don't get shy on me now.”

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes and began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and threw it on the ground. Bringing my fingers to his thick cock, a few veins ran up his shaft, the swollen pink head dripping with precum. I started pumping him, locking eyes with him as I spat down on his cock for some lubrication, he hissed, grabbing my hips tightly.

A surge of courage took over me, pushing him down on the bed, I lifted my hips hovering over his cock, I grabbed it rubbing it up and down my slit, he gaped up at me. I lined it up against my entrance, ready to lower myself on him, he held my hips in place stopping me.

“You want to ride me? Are you sure Harper? You don't have to.” His eyes grew with concern.

“No, I want to. I want to ride you, Kendall. Please just let me ….let me make you feel good,” I whined.

He sighed agreeing, keeping his eyes on me as I lowered myself down on him, he was so much bigger than Will, so much thicker, I could only take him a little at a time. Soft moans left my mouth as I was half way down his cock, his firm grip on my hips being the only thing keeping me up right, stopping me from crumbling down, as the sensation of his thick cock mixed with the alcohol pulsing through me was making me feel lightheaded.

“You're doing so good,” He groaned, momentarily shutting his eyes, “So good baby, taking my cock so well,” He let me work at my own pace, his breathing quickened slightly.

“I know you can take me, all of me,” He encouraged me. I lifted up off him again, and sank back down, taking all of him, the stretch was far too intense. He was so deep in me, I could feel him in the pit of my stomach. I bit my lip, trying to suppress my whimpers. My lips unintentionally curled into a slight frown.

“Are you okay?” He sat up, rubbing a hand up and down my spine.

"Ow, yes. You’re just— just a lot to take,” I winced, looking down at him through heavy eyelids, trying to adjust to his length and girth, but I could barely move at this angle without feeling the sting of pain. He swiftly flipped us over, cock still engulfed deep in me as my head crashed onto the soft pillows.

“It’s okay baby, let me take care of you,” He murmured, between soft kisses on my trembling lips, “I’ll be so gentle,” He reassured me, showering my face with kisses, his thumb wiping away stray tears from my cheeks. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I took a deep breath in, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck.

He pulled out of me, sinking back in me ever so slowly. “Fuck your so tight,” He hissed.

I cried out, feeling so full again. His balls rested against my core with his cock sheathed all the way in, I took in slow, shallow breaths, attempting to soothe the burning away. I could feel each inch of him, each ridge, each curve of his meaty cock inside me.

“You're doing so good, baby. You feel so good,” He groaned in my ear, his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back for me.

He pulled all the way out again and plunged back in a few more times, letting my walls accommodate him. Careful not to thrust, taking his time, being so patient, so gentle just like he promised.

“Kendall, please,” I moaned, dragging my nails down his back, the pain melted away, pleasure overtaking me as the tip of his cock, hit a spot deep in me, igniting a fire that only he could put out. My walls were practically pulsating around him now, begging for more.

“What is it baby?” He asked, searching my eyes.

“Fuck me,” I rasped, my eyes fluttering shut. After gaining my approval he sighed in relief and thrusted his cock in me harder. My eyes flew open, I gasped digging my nails into his biceps. His fingers dug into my hips, I wrapped my legs around his waist, needing to feel him deeper, quivering under him.

“Feels so good Ken,” I moaned in his mouth, at some point our lips must have entangled again. His eyes never leaving mine, praises of encouragement falling from his lips.

“You look so good taking my cock, such a good girl,” Overwhelmed, my body trembled with each thrust, stretching me out, the waves of pleasure flooding me whole, coursing through me. Broken breaths paired with his name fell from my lips, parted slightly.

His cock dwelled deeper in me, my taut muscles milking his cock, “Listen to the sounds you're making, baby,” The sounds my cunt made each time he pumped in were so sinful. Hearing the word baby fall from his lips made me even wetter.

I let out a string of embarrassingly loud moans, not being able to find a singular word in the English language to describe the euphoric feeling. He jerked faster, his cock throbbing in me, muffled moans scattering his breath. His sizeable dick sliding into my wetness with ease now, like he fucking owned it.

My breasts bounced under him, as he fucked me mercilessly his cock splitting me inch by inch, it felt so good I was seeing stars. He pressed his face to my chest, placing sweet kisses, tasting my salty skin, kissing up my neck.

“I need more,” I panted, as he continued pounding into me. He released one of his hands from my hips and brought it to my swollen nun, rubbing aggressive circles. I was in complete bliss, “Don't stop,” I begged.

“Ken I’m-”

“Fuck me too,” sweat beaded across his forehead, his skin flushed pink. “Cum for me baby, you've been so good, you deserve it. Let go for me, just let go.”

Hearing his praise sent me over the edge again, as I let out incoherent moans and gasps. He groaned as I dug my nails into him, drawing blood. He drew back, balancing on his knees, grabbing my ankles and throwing them over his shoulders, he fucked me relentlessly, with harsh thrusts as I rode out my high clenching around his unforgiving cock.

“Good girl, you’re so good, you’re my good girl,” he panted, talking me through it, “That’s right. Just like that, let it all out, baby.”

I practically sobbed feeling each curve of his cock as he buried himself deeper into me, tears pricking my eyes. He let out a haggard breath before pulling out and releasing on my stomach, collapsing on me, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. I ran my hands through his hair soothing him as his chest heaved against mine.

“Fuck,” He rolled off me to lay beside me, he cradled my jaw, pressing a tender kiss on my lips, “You're fucking amazing.”

He got up leaving the room and returned in his boxers carrying a damp towel. He gently grazed my skin, cleaning up his mess. He was doing exactly what he said he would, taking care of me. He dabbed the towel over my abused cunt, I winced feeling the soreness his girth left behind.

“Sorry. Do you need anything?” His eyes softened.

“Water please,” I rasped, smiling as he scurried off. No one had ever taken care of me like this before, not even the man who claimed to love me. I retrieved my panties bunched up on the ground, sliding them on before throwing on Kendall’s button down.

He returned with a cold bottle of water, leading me back to the bed, he drew the comforter back, pulling me under with him. I winced again coming in contact with the mattress. I pressed the water bottle between my legs, trying to soothe the stinging.

Kendall’s brows furrowed in concern, he wrapped an arm around my waist, turning to face me. “Fuck, sorry, was I uh, too rough?” He asked with apologetic eyes.

“No, no you were perfect,” I let out a small laugh, seeing him get so worried, “She’s just out of practice,” I gestured between my legs.

“Is there anything I can do?” He glanced down at the water bottle, “To uh, help her I guess.”

“She’ll be fine, don’t worry,” I reassured him, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Listen, thank you for the lovely evening, but I like, have to get going now,” I slithered off the bed, trying to keep my weight off my pelvis.

I stood up, my legs still wobbling from the aftershocks of the not one but two ground shattering orgasms I received.

“What? No, you don’t have to leave. Stay,” Kendall sat up on the edge of the bed, grabbing my hips pulling me into him from behind, his cheek resting on my ass.

“I can’t, Kendall, we both have work in the morning and I can’t show up in that dress,” I argued, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

“I wouldn’t mind it if you showed up to work everyday in that dress,” I felt him smiling against my exposed skin.

“Kendall seriously…” He pulled me down onto his lap gently placing a hand between my legs, cupping around my soreness, relieving some pressure off it. My back was pressed against his chest, he rested his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his other arm around my waist.

“Baby, it’s Saturday tomorrow,” His chuckle vibrated through my entire body, “Please just stay, you're drunk and walking like Bambi. Just let me take care of you Harper.”

How could I say no to his sweet words? I begrudgingly agreed and got back under the covers with him, he kept his arms around me, holding me close.

“You’re impossible?” I rolled my eyes.

“I always get what I want,” He smirked.

I shifted lifting his arm off me, “I need to go get—“

“What? What do you need? I'll get it,” He cut me off. “You stay here and rest,” His tone was stern.

“My phone,” I said sheepishly.

And without another word, he rushed off again, returning moments later with my clutch in one hand and an ice pack in the other. He put it between my legs holding it in place.

I closed my heavy eyelids sighing in relief, “You're so good to me Ken,” I whispered resting my head on his chest before dozing off.

“You deserve it and so much more baby.

Chapter 4 and onwards

#kendall roy x oc #kendall roy #succession #logan roy #roman roy #shiv roy #i can fix him #sucession #fight for you #kendall roy fanfiction #enemies to lovers #slow burn #ao3 fanfic

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stewyhosseini-bf · 2 years ago

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Honestly think what’s devastating about Ken snapping at Tom for the ‘you sound a little unhinged’ line was that I never would’ve expected that reaction cause that wasn’t even the worst thing Tom’s said to shiv, even just that day. You kinda forget it’s all happening behind closed doors cause we, the audience, see it all, so for Ken to lose his shit at him over it is just like … a reality check ig

#two things:#a) do we think this is in the script or improvised. cause the ‘don’t fucking touch him was improvised’… but also we know the writers adapt #to the actors so I can see them writing that bc of that scene #anyway. and b) I know Ken would kill Tom’s ass if he head half the things from that 4x7 or 4x8 convo. anyone who disagrees suck my conk. idc #cause if there’s one thing we know it’s that he will defend his siblings from day one to forever whether they fight or make terrible #decisions with world shattering consequences #doesn’t make any of his other actions less awful but I’m just saying that’s integral to who he is as a character and you either get it or #you simply don’t understand #succession spoilers #succession #kendall roy #shiv Roy

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bitchthefuck1 · 2 years ago

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One little detail that I really love about Succession is the fact that it's explicitly confirmed in the show that Kendall, Shiv, and Roman have all been to therapy—and yet they've clearly still never actually processed or confronted the trauma and dysfunction in their lives.

They all acknowledge that on some level they need help and that what's happened to them isn't okay, but they're so deeply invested in the power structures that hurt them that no amount of talking will actually change anything. They can't really confront the reality of their father and what happened to them, because that would mean rejecting the myths they've been raised on and profit off of, and none of them are willing to do that. So the cycle keeps going.

#like therapy is an incredibly powerful and useful tool and working with a good therapist is truly lifechanging. but its not a silver bullet #and it takes a lot of work on your part and a willingness to dig in and confront a lot of very ugly and difficult things about your life an #who you are and the stories you've been told or told yourself about both of those things and its really easy to talk for ages and accomplis #nothing (especially if your therapist isn't willing or able to challenge you and really confront you about things)#like so often the response to this kind of stuff is just 'well they should go to therapy' and like. that's not the quick fix you think it i #idk this detail just really stood out to me and i appreciate it so much bc like while my current therapist is great ive had some in the pas #who were very 'feel good yes man' and like. maybe that's what some people need. but i needed someone to call me on my shit and actually #fight me on some stuff because that was the only way I was ever going to really be able to grow #and its so clear that none of the roys (at this point in their stories) are willing or able to do that. so therapy can't help.#anyways this season is amazing and im dying #succession #succession season 4 #shiv roy #roman roy #kendall roy #logan roy

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hughiecampbelle · 9 days ago

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Essential (Will Graham Oneshot)

Character/s: Will, Hannibal mention

Word Count: 1,507

Inspired By: Siren Song by Natalie Wilson (this is one of the most beautiful songs on my playlist)

Inspired By: Okay I will never shut up about this fic (Kendall Roy x Depression!Reader) by @chaithetics - I can't praise it enough. I adore it for so many reasons and I'm incredibly grateful to have read it 💕

A/N: Ahhh okay. So. Currently it's pouring out and the rain smells wonderful and I have a candle lit and my room is (mostly) clean - will be sorting that out lol. I haven't been feeling very well mentally recently. The holidays are always hard. My step-dad said some things and it really got to me. His judgement shouldn't matter at all, but it voiced every opinion I fear. It put all my insecurities on blast and I ended up sobbing to my therapist about it. I'm trying to focus on my goals, studying for the LSATs and getting everything ready to apply to law school. Trying to focus on the new year and all the possibilities it holds. It just hurt, y'know? And I thought writing would help, plus I love Will lol. Sorry for the rant!! Not my best work, but it feels good to get it out! Feedback is always appreciated!!! ❤🥩❤

*This is not part of the writing event, this is just a silly therapy fic. I will make a proper post about it, I pinky promise!*

The sun has set. Bright, twinkling stars poke holes in the cobalt sky. It’s your favorite version. The warm lights of houses splash outward through the windows. Some are muted by curtains. Others remain unobscured. Throwing itself across the snow, butter-yellow and bleeding. The snow falls in fat, robust flakes and you hear the wind howl, picking up the longer the night goes on. Downstairs the dogs bark and whine. Pawing at the door until it creaks open, they key sticking just a little. His voice carries through the house like music, song-like, in a key you cannot name, but love nonetheless. He laughs, telling them to be quick as they scatter in the yard. You count the heartbeats until they’re back inside. Safe. He sets down his bag, hanging his coat and shaking off his boots. His glasses, you assume, are not on his face, but placed on a table. The kitchen, most likely, though if he stopped at his desk, perhaps they sit among his things. His familiarities. He works in routines, straying little, if at all. You know what he will find, picturing it from memory. The cupboards and fridge undisturbed. A single mug in the skin. Tea, coffee, something hot cooled off, frozen even, half-filled or half-empty, the decision is up to him. It’s all you could manage today. An act you talk yourself into, a feat you are not prepared for, but crave regardless. Sugar and milk. You made it last the day and yet, it remains unfinished. You hear the faucet run, the stream steady. Imagine his hands. Holding the sponge, circling the inside of the ceramic, filling and pouring until bubbles have subsided. Less severe, less violent, less and less and less. He places it on the drying rack upside down, the clink of it alongside the rest of the dishes filling you with guilt. You could have washed it. You could have unloaded the burden from him. It was your mess. Despite it, despite this grief, he will wave it off. Happy to do it, to help. Still, you might argue, and he will shrug, out of words, but not out of fight.

His footsteps patter through the first floor, pouring food into bowls, calling them each by name. Dinner is served, you think. Unzipping his bag, the sound high and sharp, retreating what he needs before you follow him to the stairs. Each step groaned quietly, as if announcing his presence in whispers. Contaninig their excitement or, perhaps, swapping secrets. Gossip. Down the hall, he makes his way towards you. His cologne, subtle, is a welcomed scent. Woodsy, earthy, like soil. Hints of tobacco. Fabric softener, too. Lavender, you think, though they are all the same. Knocking quietly at the bedroom door, lazily left ajar, before walking inside. Hey you, he says. You were right. He’s not wearing his glasses. You can see his eyes - an amalgamation of color. Blue mostly, though there are hints of green and specks of brown. Puppy dog, exceptional in conveying emotions. You search for anger in them, fury or wrath or disgust, but there is only understanding. Relief. His smile is serene and his movements gentle: placing his files full of photos and notes on the nightstand. Overflowing with gore and mutilation, there is so much work he has brought home, so much responsibility, and yet he makes time for you and your dishes. You’ve been up here all day. He says it as a statement rather than a question. You wait for reprimand, for abolishment or scolding, but his features remain soft. Were you warm enough? The blankets and duvet wrapped around you, piled atop one another. You nod, unable to find your voice. Good, he says, leaning over to kiss your forehead. He is warm despite the cold, his cheeks rosy. The bridge of his nose has two small, red marks. It must’ve been a glasses kind of day. Little time to take them off, to get up close.

He talks without expectation. About Jack and his demands. About Hannibal and his repetitive, yet fascinating, takes on the world. Undressing as he does so. You watch him unbutton his shirt, a white t-shirt bright underneath. He does not say that he went to his psychiatrist about you. What to do, how to help. Should he be doing something differently? Should he be approaching the subject with more grit, less tenderness? Pulls a sweater over his head, the navy blue one you always liked on him. Unbuckling his belt. Searching for the flannel pants he loves, the pajamas he wears as often as he can. Should he make you go to a hospital? Is that the right course of action? Dr. Lecter hushes his worries. Reminds him he is doing everything right. That this will pass, and you will find your way back to him. He knows this, he must remind himself. He will be patient. He will take care of this, of you, as long as you both need. Bev who made a funny, albeit inappropriate, joke at the crime scene. Another killer on the loose. Too early to track, to pattern match. Talk of two offenders instead of one, a duo. He climbs in beside you, his voice steady, his hands moving as he speaks. Reminiscent of a conductor with no orchestra. Caught up in the drama, the obscurity, the way the bodies were found and how they were killed, he loses himself in the anticipation - a pressure in his chest - he must get out every word before it is too late. It is only after he has finished, catching his breath, does he notice you've fallen back to sleep.

Trapped in a half-sleep, you catch parts of the truth. The bedside lamp has been turned on, the room even darker than you last saw. His side of the bed is empty. The faucet running in the bathroom. He sits, his files on his lap, string through each image and note. Smells of mint. He hums quietly to himself, a sound you have learned to cherish. The light is off. The bedroom black. He lies beside you, but he is awake. Softly, the words come out. Are you mad at me? He takes a moment, pausing, and dread begins to fill your chest. Why would I be mad at you? He asks,and then adds, Of course not. You can’t bring yourself to explain without tears welling up in your eyes, a sob trapped in your throat, so you say nothing. Because, you start, but cannot bring yourself to finish. Quickly wiping your eyes, grateful for the lack of light. Because I’m a burden, you think. Because I’m not myself. Because I ruin everything. Because you deserve better. Because, because, because. Will moves closer, wrapping his arms around you, rubbing circles into your back. You feel his knuckles across the spokes of your spine. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Another night crying. In the morning your eyes will be bloodshot, your face puffy. Another mess you’ve created that he cleans up. Finally, he whispers: I could never be mad at you. But what about-? Never. His tone, not unharsh, is serious and something about that settles your nerves. The gnawing guilt inside chews with its gums instead of its teeth. Get some sleep, okay? He squeezes you a little tighter. You fall asleep like that, intertwined.

You don’t hear him get up. You don’t feel his absence until it is too late. A note left for you, his handwriting distinct and melancholy. I made you a drink. Be careful, it’s hot. Love you - Will. The mug he washed, the one you dirtied, sits beside the paper. Steam no longer pours from the top, but the cup itself is still warm. Downstairs you hear the symphony of dogs chewing. Loudly, you note, but happily. Another chore taken care of. Softly, you sip, grateful for him. For his actions, his selflessness. Today will be a little better than the last, that you are certain of. One step at a time. Will will talk to Dr. Lecter again. He will question if he’s helping. He will fear he isn’t doing enough. The two of you wrapped up in your worries, not distinct from one another, similar words with different meanings. Am I doing enough? Am I failing them? He will be talked down, reminded that this thing, this cyclical phase, it always ends. No matter what, there is always an endpoint. He must remind himself that, he must remind you, too. The two of you journey through this not out of obligation, but of necessity. He needs you. He adores you. A world without you is not one he’d like to take part in. Where you sense burden, resentment, anger, he will meet you with generosity, with compassion and understanding. It is a surprise every time, and yet it shouldn’t be. He needs you more than words could ever describe. You can’t get rid of him that easily.

#writing #therapy fic #will graham #will graham oneshot #will graham drabble #will graham x reader #hannibal #hannibal oneshot #hannibal drabble #hannibal x reader

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muntitled · 2 years ago

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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."

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