#Kendall Roy/Reader

[youreirrelevant]

Sundog

pairing: Kendall Roy/Reader summary: Then, he's slotting his chin between your breasts, sighing so heavily you can feel the warmth and moisture of his breath ooze through the fabric of your shirt. His thumbs hook into the waistband of your pajama shorts, soft with age. “I’ve had a long fucking day.” words: 2865 tags: EXPLICIT, porn with some plot (Kendall is ceo, but-), a hint of angst, light dom/sub, mutual masturbation, thigh riding a/n: I started writing this back in February of 2023...

Long days. Clicking a pen, faster than the seconds could pass. Some days he’d lose track of time, the sun would have been fully set before he’d notice there was no more light streaming into his office. Today seemed to be never-ending. Words on the screen would pixelate, the ones on paper, smudging. The numbers meant nothing, and he felt quite the business school cliché, only really able to focus on the color of the candlesticks. Seconds, minutes, hours, too many seemed red, like the heat of the day crawling by. Kendall would hold a few slugged-through pages between his index and middle fingers up to reveal a new one, eyes moving over the words as many times as it took to actually read. Felt the rough paper against the sensitive skin of his fingers, to not think of harder things. Softer things.

---

Sometimes he’d look to his dad’s suite still expecting to see him sitting there. Five o’clock was out of the question, but he didn’t know if he had it in him to wait until whatever time his brain felt would have, hypothetically, satisfied his father. (There was no such time.) Another hour, but it was essentially time theft. And perfunctory, performative- he could leave whenever the hell he wanted. (Still under his watchful eye.)

For the short walk from the building to the back of his chauffeured car, Kendall felt ten pounds heavier. Slipping his sunglasses on as soon as he stepped outside to shield himself from the penetrative rays. Sweltering, heat distorted, the air is coming up from the asphalt, off the hoods of cars, in waves. He sighs. The air is thick with humidity and makes him think of things he always tries not to. He slides into the backseat, the leather mercifully cool from where the air conditioning had been allowed to run in preparation for him.

Summer seems to have crept into him, past his skin and into the meat and bones. His stomach. Thoughts of water trickling, pouring, trying to chill people who continued to warm themselves. You could generate steam off the friction and body temperatures alone.

He felt so hard it was almost juvenile.

—

Dogs and cats will sunbathe in the sunlight that comes in through those stain-glass windows in front doors. The AC will chill the air, but anything the light touches is warmed. Through fur, and through clothes.

It’s all fucking windows. Bedroom and great room and dining room. Inescapable, infrared. You long for paper-thin white sheets, a rattling box fan to tuck it around. Colder than laying in snow. Absolute zero. The setting of the sun was more attainable. Just three hours away.

By the time he’s in the elevator, he’s itchy and aching from irritation. Wants to shed himself of his blazer at the very least. Is tired of the abrasive, stiffened nature that he’s always surrounded with, standing sturdy against the loosening of every other molecule and bond. Somehow.

He knows where he can get pliancy, though.

When he steps foot into the penthouse it’s not exactly hot, but it's stagnant. Even here there are little specks of dust floating and visible in the beams of sunlight. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t really know how to prevent dust, or what even causes it. Skin? Dirt brought in from outside?

You round the corner from the kitchen- hardly its own, enclosed room- find Kendall rolling his sleeves up. His shirt is so white its almost blue; the tan of his skin, brown of his moles, darker against it. The glass water bottle you carry is perspiring, the heat of your body penetrating, evaporating. You want to watch him, biting your lip at the flex of his fingers, tendons in his hands, muscles in his forearm. He’s watching himself do it, making the folds neat and even. The angle of his face highlights the bumps in the bridge of his nose, the thickness of his lashes, and you have to close the gap.

“You’re home kind of early,” its sweet, affectionate. The way you sound when you thank him. Gracious; soft. He straightens. Glances at you.

“Yeah, well-“evasive. Not thinking of you at all.

Two ways- when your hand wraps around his bicep he wants to bring you closer, push you away. He manages to stay still.

“Did you guys ever put cold drinks against your necks to cool down?”

Before he can even answer you’re doing just that for him, the frosty glass pressing against his carotid quickening his pulse and seeming to chill everything inside his chest. The sweat is wetting his skin, dampening his collar. It's so quintessentially summer; some fleeting relief.

“No. We had servants to fan us with those, uh, big fucking leaves.” So deadpan one could think he was serious. Your cheeks are pinched with a restrained smile, eyes glittering. Sometimes he wishes you’d just kiss him instead of hesitating -admiring- and creating this tension.

“Mhmm. Naturally.”

When he pulls away you don’t try to stop him. He tugs the fold of his collar away, then pulls it back against himself. Trying to be subtle, like he’s just straightening it, not depriving himself of the now warm, damp spot for a moment so he can enjoy it more when it's returned.

He flattens his lips. There’s an endless itch he needs scratched.

He sits on the couch, ridged and on the edge of the cushion, like he’s trying to level with you, implore to you. His body strains against his shirt- the buttons strain a little, tufts of chest hair are visible where the top ones are undone.

Kendall beckons you over casually- “Come here.” The ease of it always made you feel a little hotter, a little giddy. When you get close enough, he takes the bottle of water from you, sets it aside before leaning forward. Eyes on yours as he grabs your waist, pulls you to stand between his parted thighs, lean and toned against yours. He smiles up at you and it’s downright sweet- you want to tell him he’s pretty, full lips pulled back in a wide v. Your hands rest easily on his shoulders, cheeks pink with affection as you return his smile.

The kiss is only natural, slow and tender, but just as you go to readjust the way your lips slot against his, he’s yanking you even closer, thumbs digging into your hip bones so deep you gasp, his nose pressing into your cheek so tightly it bends. Then his chin is slotted between your breasts. He lets out a sigh so heavy you can feel the warmth and moisture of his breath ooze through the fabric of your shirt.

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your pajama shorts, soft with age.

“I’ve had a long fucking day.”

Kendall does it quick, undresses you from the waist down without much fanfare. Tipping his chin down to watch as he pulls the shorts- and your underwear- down your thighs, moving his head away from you just enough to make it easier when he slips it over your knees, his hands fisting themselves into the clothes to tug more forcefully. There would usually be some easing into this, more kissing and touching, (not that there were never rushes, but, well, this wasn’t rushed.) He runs his palms back up your legs, up the sides, your knees buckling a little as his thumbs swipe over them broadly. They move up and around your thighs, cupping your ass as he looks up at you again.

Your legs shift. You wonder what he’s going to do. What he’s got planned. Suddenly it’s not hot enough.

“Um-?”

“I want you to ride my thigh.”

You scoff incredulously. He’s deadpan again so, surely, he’s joking.

“Do people actually do that?”

“You will.”

Of course you will. He’s smiling up at you, digging his fingers into your hips. There’s a firmness to his expression. He nudges the side of your leg with his knee and it feels real. Whole torso seeming to bubble with nerves and excitement.

You look at him and huff out a single, weak little laugh, but there is no bluff to be called. His forehead wrinkles when he raises his brows. Impatient.

Moving to straddle him feels awkward. It's not exactly unfamiliar- lots of people get off like this, when they’re young and learning about their bodies, and maybe you had, too. And maybe there was fabric involved then, too, but certainly no leg beneath. No person around at all.

He feels your hands trembling as they slide down to his biceps- somehow you both feel more solid to each other than you ever have. He’s thankful you aren’t looking, because any commanding facade he had has slipped away with your gaze. Working too hard to school his breathing; you give in to him, and he’s enraptured.

When you finally press against him, it aches. Not unfamiliar. Your chest heaves. He’s slim, but sturdy. Your face tingles with warmth- embarrassment- and you try not to get ahead of yourself, thinking-

“Do you need help?”

As if you’d been just sitting there, like minutes had passed or something.

“N-no.”

You shift your hips, take in a staggered breath. Maybe you had been sitting here for minutes. Shame and desire are symbiotic, show in the way you tremble from restraint. His hands slip under your shirt, running up your back and nudging you forward.

“There’s a- I feel rushed.”

“Don’t feel rushed. There’s no rush. Just, fuckin, get yourself off on my leg. Now.”

It’s the kind of command that shows he knows he’ll always get what he wants, cushioned in excitement and eagerness. Infectious; if you see how much he wants it, wants you to do it, you’ll want it, too.

And you do.

The first pass is slow and tentative. The hood of your clit is tugged upward as you angle your pelvis back, and you exhale noisily. You can feel every thread of his slacks, finely woven and stiff, all the way down into your toes. There’s an instinctive urge to keep yourself quiet, to get yourself off as quickly as you can, so you don’t get caught. Fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, hips wiggling to get a better angle. If drool spilled out of Kendall’s open mouth, pooling, dribbling over the plumpness of his bottom lip, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s trying to keep his cool. This was supposed to be mean to you. Degrading, a little show for him. A reward for -a distraction from- the tedium and sterility of the job he gave almost everything up for. But his face is so flushed it hurts, ears and sinuses aching, and he kind of wonders where that blood even comes from, because he’s throbbing against his leg. You look so demure. Pretty, sweat gathering in the crooks of your elbows, along the base of your neck already, from the strain of perching, rutting against his leg. Glittering in the light from the sun. His pants are tailored too slim. He swallows, shifts on the couch to try and give himself some space, and you gasp as his thigh presses firmly against your vulva.

“Don’t—“

Wobbly and strained. It’s clear, from the minute trembling of your thighs, the slackening of your jaw, that you liked it. His hands glide over your hips, down your thighs, long fingers sticking to your dewy skin.

“Sorry.”

Licking his teeth. A big grin on his face. He’s not fucking sorry; he does it again. The heel of your hand digs into his shoulder, but the moan you let out undermines any attempt at really putting your foot down.

“Fucking— stop,” giggly and spineless, but this time, he does obey, pleased that the jolt of his thigh has knocked loose your inhibitions. You widen your stance, reach a hand down to his hip to get more leverage. The leather of his belt is cool and smooth against your heated palm. He’s pushed you onto the right track.

Emboldened, determined, messy. Really going for it, now, hips rolling, bearing down on him to get that perfect scratch. He tugs your shirt up to see, to catch a peak of the streak of wetness left behind, darkening the fabric of his slacks. In the center of his chest, this tightening, cloying need to touch it. Rub it in, bring it to his mouth and taste it, but he doesn’t want to interrupt. Doesn’t want to break the spell and make you remember that he’s there, so that the embarrassment might wash over you anew. No, he wants you to cum like this, desperate and animalistic. Redirecting that energy, that need to grab and touch, he presses his palm against his cock, grunting at the pressure, loosely curling his fingers around himself and tugging to get some sort of relief.

Both of you moan. That’s—plenty. Way too fucking hot. Your minds run, sprint, parallel to each other’s with the same desires. Watching each other, wanting the other to make a mess of his nice, expensive clothes. Cascading. A feedback loop. Your fingers open and curl to get a better hold, to ride a little faster. The clinking, the buzzing of metal. He unbuckles his belt, opens his fly. The air between you is muggy, rapidly exchanged. The head of his cock flushed pink and swollen, skin pulled shiny-taut. You’re staring, as he wraps his hand around himself. Your eyebrows pinch. You want him so fucking bad. In your hand. On your tongue. Heavy and smooth.

Another pass. The pleat of his slacks catches on you, rigid and perfect and just what you need. He sees you try to chase it, squirming but unable to hit it the same way. So he flattens his palm on his upper thigh, just tight enough to keep it in place, without smoothing out the fold. Blood rushes, tingly and hot, all the way to the top of your head.

“Yes, Kendall,” gasped and dripping with gratitude, like it’s the texture of his fingertips that’s rubbing against you.

One of your thumbs tucks up under his hand, so you can rest yours on his leg, too. Grabbing, pulling yourself over him. The touch is so tender and intimate it makes his heart clench. He really isn’t there, now, as you get closer and closer. As you grind, rough and frantic against his leg. He jerks himself rhythmically, mechanically, trying to time it with each desperate jerk of your body. Both of your hands wrap around his thigh, your eyes closed, each movement and moan and whimper shorter and harsher and his mouth drops open at the sight of it. He grips his thigh, pinching your thumb between it and his hand, but neither of you mind. His other leg swings wider, knee almost bumping against the firm edge of the couch as he feels his balls pull tight against his body. He can smell you, your sweat, maybe even the tang of your arousal. See the strain this puts on your body, to balance and rut and try to get yourself off like this. Chest heaving, eyes glued to where your shirt drapes between your thighs, like it’s this mystical, magical, unattainable place— though he tries to keep himself quiet, hidden, he moans, as that first rope of cum falls, splats dully on the hardwood floor. You look up, to his face, find long lashes fanned across his cheeks, face pinched as he works himself through it, his leg bouncing, just a little.

“Mm, fuck,” you look, sound, surprised, almost agonized, watching as it pools milky white and thick between his knuckles. He watches you, the webbing between his thumb and index finger nestled at the base at the base of his cock, holding it upright as you tilt your hips and move them raggedly, harshly, to get that kind of orgasm that feels gooey and wet and endless. Your face goes slack. You drag yourself through it, barely making a sound, wanting it to last as long as possible.

You want it to go on forever because, once it’s over, embarrassment starts to creep in. It creeps into you both. The pace and the roughness of your movements. The specificities of the way you liked to get yourselves off. It’s raw, vulnerable in a way that neither of you expected. That you rarely ever were with each other. Your legs are shaking. Each crevice in your body is slick with sweat, and it makes you feel gross.

“That was— ha.”

You wet your lips. Your mouth is dry.

“I don’t know how you can do that for so long,” it’s sheepish, but there’s also a hint of appreciation. Moving like that, for even that brief of a period of time, makes your whole body hurt. Core and upper arms and calves. Top to bottom. You go to stand, and he has to catch you, steady you with a still sticky hand on your waist. You grimace, but the mess is also kind of— hot.

“You just need to work on your stamina.”

[the-west-meadow]

masterlist

SUCCESSION reader inserts

Kendall Roy

Late at Night

Lost My Mind Today 18+

Sleepless 18+

Kissing Strangers 

You Make Me Want Things 

It Was You 

The Holy Mountain 

A Good Person 

Nowhere

I’ll be Home Soon 18+

I’m Glad You’re Here

Pain

Roman Roy

When He’s Gone

Hit Me

Did You Miss Me?

You’re an Asshole

Heartbreaker

Lukas Matsson

Normal People 18+

People Are Watching (Normal People pt. 2) 18+

Leave Your Clothes On

Awake 18+

Tom Wambsgans

My Life is Filled with Fear 18+

If I Could Start Again 18+

Whispering

You Have To Leave

All the Wine 18+

Greg Hirsch

You Don’t Have to Go

Getaway Ch 1

Getaway Ch 2

Other People

Non-Reader Inserts

Tell Me You Love Me (Ao3 link) - Jeryd Mencken/Roman Roy

THE KILLER (2023)

The Killer x Original Female Character

Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now (pt. 1) (pt. 2) (pt. 3) (pt. 4) (Ao3 links)

THE LAST OF US

Joel Miller x Original Female Character

If the Fates Allow (Ao3 link)

[happy74827]

Only You

[Kendall Roy x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Kendall never had anyone that he could truly rely on. But now, he has you, and that's all that matters {GIF Creds: Honestly i couldn't find who made it… just know that I didn't}.

WC: 753

Category: Lime/Spice, Slight Angst

I just finished Succession tonight and my heart literally hurts so much for Kendall, so I had to write this to ease my mind.

『••✎••』

“Kenny…” You sigh into his neck, his teeth nipping at your ear.

His hands travel from your thighs to the dip of your back and up, pulling the thin fabric of your dress over your head and off, tossing it onto the floor.

He grins, kissing down your jaw to the swell of your breasts. You can feel him, hard and thick through his jeans, pressed against you, and you need him. Need to feel him inside you. Need to feel his skin against yours.

Your breath is shallow and hot.

Kendall kisses the hollow of your throat, your pulse hammering against his lips. He takes your chin in his hand and makes you look at him. You stare into his eyes, deep and brown, the color of the earth. He stares right back, and you can feel his heartbeat, fast and in time with yours.

You lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses you back, softly at first, but then, hungry, devouring, as if he were a starving man.

You unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and push him down on the bed. He pulls you on top of him, and you can feel him smiling as he kisses you. His hands are warm as they caress your body, sending tingles up and down your spine.

He needed this; you knew it, just like you needed it. It was only a matter of time before he broke down before he let you back in. He needed someone to be there for him—someone who loved him unconditionally and would stand by him no matter what.

His touch was gentle and loving. The way he held you, kissed you. It was almost as if he didn't want to let you go. As if he was afraid of losing you.

Your heart ached for him. Ached for the man who was lost and alone, the man who had no one else. Nothing else.

With all the hot garbage and corruption within Waystar, Kendall could always rely on you. You were his constant. His anchor.

He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was scared. He was scared and alone, and he needed someone.

Roman couldn’t give him that. Shiv could barely stand to look at him. His mother? Well, she wasn't the type.

And then there was you. You had been by his side, supporting him for as long as he could remember.

He didn't know when he had started to notice you, started to love you. But he had. Rava couldn't fill the void in his heart. No woman could. But you could.

You had been there for him every step of the way, no matter what. When the shit hit the fan, when his father cut him out, when his family betrayed him, you were there. You were his light in the darkness.

The night that Kendall told the world his father was at fault for the cruise ship disaster, the full turnaround he did on the presser and the aftermath had been hell. Logan had thrown a tantrum, screaming and shouting and threatening to cut him off completely.

For a little while, it seemed like he would, too.

But you had been there for him.

Kendall had broken down, sobbing, after it was all over. When the weight of it all had finally hit him, he had felt guilty and ashamed.

You had sat with him, comforting him. You hadn’t judged him. You hadn’t told him it was his fault, that he was wrong. You had simply listened.

And that had meant the world to him.

When he had finished crying, when his sobs had subsided, he had kissed you.

He hadn't planned to. But the look in your eyes, the concern, the compassion, the love, he couldn't help himself. It was a soft kiss. Tender. Loving. He had cupped your face in his hands, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

After that night, everything had changed.

You had become the only thing he could count on.

You were always there for him, no matter what.

Now, as you lay together, the sheets twisted around your bodies, your bare skin touching his, he knew.

He knew the person who would always have his back, who would never leave him, was you.

And that was why he had given you his heart.

Kendall didn't need anyone or anything else.

He only needed you.

Just you and only you.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

I Can Take a Beating (Like a Good Pair of Headphones)

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader

Rating: T, shockingly

Notes: Hey look it's that Kendall Valentine's oneshot I mentioned. Title from the Walk the Moon song Headphones. Written today and not beta-read, shocker, I know. also lolololol posted it to the wrong account the first time

Warnings: Cursing; Roman being a little shit; mostly fluff; potential power imbalance

Summary: This is where Kendall feels a little…Conflicted. He could hold out for whenever your birthday is, but your headphones seem to be on their last legs. And if he’s being totally honest, he’s been considering asking you out. Valentine’s is just a few days away. He could…Give them to you, ask you for a drink then? Or would you feel obligated because he’s the boss and he’s giving you a gift? 

GIF by jeremystrongs

He sort of admires your loyalty to your old pair. You’ve clearly had them for longer than they’re meant to be kept. You use them every time you're listening in on a meeting, or if you're head-down to get some work done. When you're finished, you always lift the headphones off of your ears with tender reverence, setting them aside and plugging them in to charge immediately (for as long as you must’ve had them, he’s certain the battery must be on its last legs). Then you always reach up, brushing little black flecks of flaked padding away from your ears before you duck your head back, inspecting your collar and shoulders for any little bits that may have escaped your notice. 

 Look, he gets it. Kendall’s a headphone guy.

He’s ready, willing, and able to discuss the merits of Meze, Denons, Bowers & Wilkins, Sweetwaters. He has more pairs than he can count, more pairs than he cares to think about. And maybe that’s why he does this himself, instead of asking Jess to handle it. It becomes a bit of a pet-project. He puts more time into it than he’d care to admit. He has a goddamn spreadsheet to compare each of the models he’s considering getting you based on the music he’s heard you discuss. 

He has Roman do some snooping. It’s not a hardship. You’re one of the few people at Waystar Royco that Roman can stand. Kendall has to barter a couple of assignments and a future favor for it, but it’s worth it. Roman gets a breakdown of what you like to listen to, a full array—music, podcasts, audiobooks, streaming services that you prefer to use. And for the minor tooth-pulling it took to get his brother to agree, Kendall’s got to hand it to Roman. He got all of the dirt that Kendall needed to make a decision. 

Kendall winds up having a pair custom made. The headband has a subtle diamond pattern, using two of the colors he sees you wearing often. The earpads are thick and cushy, and certain not to flake any time soon. He makes sure to have a headphone jack included, just in case, you know. He wants to give you options. 

But this is where Kendall feels a little…Conflicted. He could hold out for whenever your birthday is, but your headphones seem to be on their last legs. And if he’s being totally honest, he’s been considering asking you out. Valentine’s is just a few days away. He could…Give them to you, ask you for a drink then? Or would you feel obligated because he’s the boss and he’s giving you a gift? 

He’ll have them delivered to your desk, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll gauge your reaction, see how you like them, work it out from there. 

--  

“Roman! Is this why you were asking me all of those questions about what I listen to?” 

“Well, you know," His brother gives a lame shrug, eyes wandering the package on your desk.

“This is so sweet of you, you didn’t have to do this!” 

Kendall’s heart drops from his mouth to his stomach. He can’t do anything but watch as you rest your new custom headphones back down in the box and throw your arms around Roman’s shoulders with a gleeful grin. Kendall blinks dumbly as Roman reluctantly raises his arms and gives your sides a pat. 

Roman just shrugs. “Maybe now that black shit from your other pair will stop getting all over the fuckin’ place.” 

You’re laughing. You’re laughing at Roman and you’re hugging him. It’s not right. That’s supposed to be Kendall’s laugh, and Kendall’s hug. Kendall swallows roughly, turning from the two of them as Jess warns him that he has a meeting in three. 

“Uh—Yeah. Yeah, thanks,” He nods. He chances one last glance at you. He takes in the way you draw back from Roman, picking up the headphones. He sees you smooth your fingers over the diamond patterning, and the earpads. You look so goddamn happy. It makes him feel so goddamn happy. 

It’s almost enough to quash his urge to ask Roman what the fuck he was thinking. 

--  

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“What? Dude,” Roman frowns as Kendall leans into his space, cornering him before either can leave the conference room. “Did you have falafel for lunch? I’m getting garlic.”

“You know you didn’t send her those fucking headphones,” Kendall spits. 

“No, but who cares? I did all the research, right?” 

“You asked her some questions. I did the research.” 

Roman rolls his eyes, glancing back in your direction. Kendall looks over Roman’s shoulder, peering through the glass wall to where you’re sitting at your desk. You’re using your new headphones. Every now and again, your fingers raise to brush over the band, or over the outside of the pads. Each time, your smile widens before you force yourself to refocus. 

“You want me to go tell her?” Roman offers. 

“No. No, you have done more than enough.” 

Roman smirks, holding his hands up in mock surrender before miming zipping his lips shut. Kendall puffs irritatedly as he draws back from Roman, meeting Jess at the door. 

“What’s next?” He asks, eyes set on you as he walks down the hall. Jess rattles off his next few meetings, appointments, a note that he still hasn’t RSVP’d to Shiv and Tom’s for their Valentine’s dinner (or Valentinner as Tom had called it when he reminded Kendall of it that morning). Kendall considers for a moment. If he had a date for Valentine’s, Tom would probably get off his back about going to that stupid thing (then again, probably not. It would likely be met with a hearty congratulations and an urging to bring them along, no matter how premature the meet-the-family stage would be. Then again, you already know most of Kendall’s family—but still, he wants to take you to dinner, not into the lion's den). 

“Okay…Okay. I’ve got,” He shakes his sleeve back from his wrist, “What, half an hour free?” 

“Yep,” Jess nods. 

“Okay. I’ll uh…I’ll meet you back at my office. Thanks.” 

He stops as Jess goes on, and watches you across the office again. He can’t tell at this distance, but are you…Listening in on a meeting? Or are you focused up? He doesn’t want to interrupt your flow. He had those headphones specifically noise-cancelling so that nothing would interrupt your flow. He glances toward his office, then back over to you. He can just…Look, right? He can look over your shoulder from like a desk back, see what the hell you’re working on and make a judgment call. Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do it. Kendall moves carefully, desperately trying not to look at anyone as he walks through the office (though he fails and subsequently gives a quick smile, a mutter of, “Hi,” when he meets the odd person’s eye). 

He gets a couple of feet behind you and tips his chin up a touch, eyeing your screen over your shoulder. Email. He’s seeing email. Email opening, email closing, email being archived, so nothing too…Involved, probably. 

Kendall can still turn away from this. He can still turn around, and let it go. And then you tip your head forward, your fingers brushing over the band. He can see the reflection of your smile on your laptop screen, and—Yeah, damnit. He’s gonna do this. He’s not letting this go. 

--  

You glance up at the vibration of knuckles wrapping against your desk. You glance to them, then up at the person knocking. You do a double-take at the sight of Kendall standing in front of your desk. You grin, sliding your headphones off of your ears. 

“Hey!” 

“Hi,” Kendall smiles, his eyes dropping to where you’re still grasping your headphones. “You busy? You wanna go grab some coffee?” 

“Yeah! Yeah, sure,” You nod, looking down at your laptop. “Just lemme me, um…” You finish off an email and pause your music before you carefully slip your headphones off. You raise your hands to your ears, absently dusting at your ears, though there’s no reason for you to. The pads of your new headphones are pristine, and uncracked. You stand, pulling your jacket on and rounding the desk to join Kendall. 

-- 

“How’s, uh…How’s your morning going?” He asks. The two of you are pressed pretty close in the crowded waiting area of the Starbucks, waiting for your drinks.

“It’s been pretty nice, actually. Not completely crammed with meetings—and I had a really unexpected gift on my desk this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm! I mean, I had a little, uh…A suspicion when Roman asked me about all of the stuff I listen to.” 

“Really.” 

“Yeah. How’s yours been?” 

“It’s uh, it’s, uh…” Kendall trails off, looking around. “Been kind of a mixed bag.” 

“Really?” You shift from foot to foot, fingers accidentally brushing against Kendall's. “What’s going on, everything okay?” 

“Things are fine, but I have to,” He clears his throat. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Okay,” You nod. Kendall looks like he’s trying to bring something up and hold it back all at once. His lips are pursed into a thin line, his brow furrowed. You tip your head to the side a little, raising your brows. “What’s going on?” You press softly.

“The truth is…” He seems to weigh his words for a moment before he meets your eye. You’re stunned by the way he watches you—with a nervous smile on his lips. 

“Those headphones, um…They weren’t from Roman.” 

Your chest flutters with nerves and butterflies as it sinks in. “They were from you?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why did Roman let me think that they were from him?” 

“Because he’s a shithead. I mean he’s my brother, I love him, but he likes to do things that get under my skin.” 

“He seems good at it.” 

“Oh, he’s an expert,” Kendall chuckles softly. “But I, uh…you know, you work really hard, and you clearly, like, love your headphones, so I just wanted you to have some good ones.” 

“Good ones? Kendall, you got me, like, the 24-karat gold of headphones.” 

“I mean, yeah. Yeah but you’ve earned them—” He goes quiet as you dart in, curling your arms around him before you can think to stop yourself. You didn’t hesitate like this when you went to hug Roman, but Roman is different. You have a far more casual relationship with Roman. You and Kendall, well. There’s always been this feeling pulling you toward him, but with this revelation and this gift, it’s grown stronger. Kendall’s hands rest hesitantly on your back before he draws you into his chest a bit more. You grin, turning and pressing your face into his shoulder. 

The two of you let go as you hear your orders called. You turn, smiling as he passes you yours. 

“Thank you,” You smile, and repeat it as he opens the door for you. The two of you take meandering steps back toward the office, keeping close enough for your arms to brush as you go. 

“I uh…I actually wanted to ask you something,” Kendall adds. 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I know, uh…I mean, I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Not the headphones thing, but this other thing—And I don’t want the headphones thing to effect this other thing.”

“Okay.” 

The two of you come to a stop at a crosswalk, watching cars zip by as you wait to cross. 

“What is it?” You press. Kendall’s gaze sweeps your face before he looks down at his coffee cup. 

That guarded gaze is back. “I wanted to know if you’d be interested in grabbing dinner, or a drink sometime. Something, you know.” 

Your brows raise, your smile widening as you nod. 

“Yes, I would.” 

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be a big thing—”

“Right—” 

“—But I would like to get to know you better, and I’d really, um—I mean it when I said that I don’t want the headphones to uh, to influence—” 

Kendall goes quiet as you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blinks at you in surprise, and you grin as you draw away. 

“I’m up for dinner, or drinks, or…Whatever,” You insist. 

“This is going to sound cliché and stupid, but are you busy this Valentine’s?” 

“I am not…On one condition.” 

“Okay, yeah. What is it?” 

“We don’t go to that Valentine’s dinner….Thing that Tom’s doing.” 

Kendall smiles widely, shaking his head. “I would never put you through that, trust me.” 

“Okay,” You laugh, “Then yes, let’s um…Yeah. Let’s.” 

--  

Kendall doesn’t walk you back to your desk—he’s got his own meeting to get to. But you feel him watching you as you settle down at your desk, unlocking your laptop and picking your headphones up. You glance up his gaze, smiling and winking as he catches your gaze. You bite back a giggle as he grins and turns hurriedly, nearly walking into a wall as he goes. You dip your head, pressing play and forcing yourself to refocus on your work. 

[kndllroys]

something only we know

18+ minors dni!! smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, soft dom!ken, implied age gap

a/n: this is my first ever fic? i wrote this in my notes app so i apologize in advance if it sucks lol also if i missed any tags or warnings please lmk!!! i also posted this on ao3. my username there is hardt0explain

You can sense his presence before you actually see him. Someone like Kendall commands the attention of a room that way. You’re at your favorite dive bar, a place Kendall is known to frequent when he’s in a certain headspace, feeling particularly young and daring. Glancing his way, you can see Ken has that gleam in his eye. You smile to yourself, knowing if you play your cards right you won’t even have to ask - he will be ravenous, animalistic.

Kendall sees you smiling to yourself; you’re clearly not paying attention to your friend chattering on beside you. So smug, Ken thinks to himself as he suppresses a grin. He knows how much of an ego boost it is for you when he shows up out of the blue, wanting you. He knows you’re going to be fun tonight.

“Hi,” Ken approaches your table and shamelessly rakes his eyes over your body.

Your friend has seen Kendall approach you multiple times at this very bar, but she can never really get used to it. She stops in her tracks, mid-sentence, mouth agape.

“Hi, Ken,” you take your straw out of your cocktail and place it between your teeth, still holding it between your pointer finger and thumb. “You decided to make your quarterly pop-in, eh?”

“Well, of course. I just, uh, had a feeling you might be here. We have that kind of magnetic pull toward one another, don’t you think?” Ken is laying it on thick already. This might be a record.

Your friend takes that as her cue to leave and politely excuses herself, “Oh! I think I see my friend from my yoga class. I’m gonna catch up with her - call me if you need me, okay?” She gives your hand a squeeze before heading across the bar.

“You know, I think there might be something there. It’s just hard to tell sometimes,” you tease as Kendall scoots in beside you at your booth. He’s right up next to you, his thigh flush against yours and his face so close to yours you can smell the sandalwood of his beard oil. He’s grown out his facial hair. Just a bit. He looks fucking good.

“You think?” Kendall challenges, the k at the end of the word prominent. You nod and ghost your fingers over his knee, up to his mid-thigh and drape your hand to casually linger between his legs. You look up at him through heavily lidded eyes. His breathing hitches.

“Yes, baby, I think. What if you take me and show me? You wanna see how good I can take your cock?” You’re feeling bold now. You slide your hand up to feel his cock hardening inside his trousers. Your face is still close to his; you lean in close to his ear and whine.

“Alright. Let’s go. Brat.”

Kendall practically drags you to his car. Once you’ve shut the car door, he’s on you. You try to play coy but he isn’t having it. His hands are all over you - cupping your face as he kisses you deeply, pulling your hair so he can kiss and nip at your exposed neck, grasping your breasts through your dress. You let out a whine when he suddenly stops.

“Not yet,” is all he says.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, he grabs your hand and rubs his thumb along your knuckles. He’s still not looking your direction. You know you’re in for it.

The elevator dings - Kendall steps over the threshold and pulls you into his penthouse with fervor. His lips are on yours and he is just as you imagined, just as he has always been - needy, passionate. You love having him this way. He walks you backwards, making your way to his living room.

“Did you miss me, baby?” you coo, turning around and bracing yourself on the couch so you can give a little bounce against his cock. He’s breathing heavy already.

“Fuck you,” he groans. Kendall pulls up the skirt of your dress and bends you over the arm of the couch. “Fucking brat,” he pulls your panties down and off your body. “God, you have no right feeling this fucking good,” he says as he pushes two fingers into your cunt. “So fucking wet for me, baby.”

You cry out, arching your back and grinding against his fingers. Fuck, why does he have to be so good at this? Before you can catch your breath, Ken drops to his knees and bends you further over the arm of the couch so he can reach your cunt with his mouth. You can feel his moans vibrating into you as he drinks you in, eating pussy like his life depends on it. Fuck, the way his facial hair scratches against you, your clit, your thighs.

“Baby, oh fu— oh fuck. I need—“ you stutter. Then, Ken’s patronizing voice—

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you can do better than that. Use your words baby, come on. Tell me what you need from me.”

“Ken, I— I need you. Fuck,” you manage.

“You need me? Oh, baby, I know that. Come on. Surely you’re not fucked stupid yet, baby. Tell me exactly what you need,” Kendall’s scolding now.

“Kendall, oh god, I need to fuck you.”

Kendall lets out a low groan, “Good girl.”

Ken is back on his feet again. You hear a belt buckle and zipper. You feel the tip of his cock brushing against your cunt and subconsciously push your hips back, seeking him out. Kendall stops your hips before he can enter you.

“Oh, you are so pitiful. Such a pathetic little thing,” Kendall condescends. He leans closer and whispers in your ear, “You’re so fucking good for me,” and pushes himself inside you completely.

You barely recognize your voice as you cry out his name, grabbing at the pillows in front of you and Ken behind you and anything you can get your hands on to tether yourself to reality. You push your hips back into him and arch your back, trying to get him as far inside you as possible. Kendall grabs your hips and snaps his into you, grunting as he thrusts.

“Let’s try something,” Ken interrupts. He pulls off his trousers and button down shirt, boxers following shortly after. You slip your dress off and Kendall hands you his button down.

“Put this on. Leave it unbuttoned.”

You do as you’re told and Kendall promptly pulls you down onto the floor with him, giving you kisses and grasping at your breasts hungrily.

Kendall sits cross legged, and with much care and attention, helps you wrap your legs around him and lower yourself onto his cock. The closeness, the intimacy is so much more intense than you could have ever imagined or hoped for. Your nipples press up against his bare chest. Kendall looks at you hungrily, thinking that witnessing you in this position wearing his shirt is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You run your nails down his back, feeling the slickness of his sweat atop his strong muscles. His fingers find your clit and you cry out, burying your face in his neck. Ken circles the pads of his fingers against your cunt as you gasp and whine and beg.

“Come on, baby. You take me so well. Let me hear you cum for me,” Kendall pleads.

You fall apart around his cock, head thrown back and moans echoing off the ceiling. The noises coming out of your mouth are unrecognizable to you, but the ecstasy you feel overshadows any embarrassment you might have had.

“I can’t stop, fu— fuck, I can’t—“ Kendall cries out, sounding so pitiful (and erotic) as he cums inside you. He moans, whimpers, performs a monologue about how perfect, beautiful, amazing you are. You both take a moment to catch your breath, Ken still inside you.

Kendall is the first to speak, “So, uh… you think we have something?”

[inknopewetrust]

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM [he’s a fictional character that doesn’t exist]

IM HAVING HIS BABY [no I’m not because he’s a fictional character]

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Welcome to my Masterlist 💌

hi, i'm murphy. my requests are always open - feel free to send any ideas or thoughts you have - i'll always read them all.

note - all of my fics are reader insert. no use of y/n. i don't write for real people, only characters <3

Last Updated - January 2nd

❁ - over 1k notes

✯ - a series

Characters I Write For.

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist. 3k Celebration Masterlist. Valentines Masterlist. 5k Celebration Masterlist.

Moodboard Masterlist. My Ao3.

 ⊹ 　 ✫ 　　 · 　　 ✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵  　.　 ✦ * 　 ⋆ 　　 .  ✵ 　　　

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin

The Orange. ❁

You and Jake share an orange. He's in love with you.

For Eternity. (Part 2 of The Orange.)

You and Jake share an orange. He's never loved you more.

North Star. ❁

It's New Year's Eve. Jake is tired of waiting.

I Know Places.

Jake always joked that he'd kill for you. One fateful day, he does just that.

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Why Choose?

A drunken game of spin the bottle gets a little heated. Why choose, when you can have both?

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia

Dr Cupid.

Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Lessons in Love. ❁

Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

Honey Girl. ✯❁

The Universe shows you your soulmate when it feels like you need them most. When you least expect it, you're given yours - Bucky Barnes. Your dad's best friend. You can try to refuse it all you like; but the universe wants what it wants. There's no denying fate.

Trick or Treat.

You love Halloween. Bucky loves you.

Rest Had Seemed The Sweetest Thing.

Bucky's slowly learning that love isn't a finite resource. aka, Bucky's first Christmas.

Stucky

Letters to the Moon.

Steve is gone. The love you and Bucky have for him isn't.

Wishbone.

You meet Bucky and Steve while on the run. The three of you quickly learn that nothing is more violent than love.

Frank Castle

There's Always Tomorrow.

Frank knows you better than you know yourself. It's a blessing and a curse.

Multi Talented. ❁

Frank shows you exactly what you deserve.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Criminal Minds

Luke Alvez

Wherever You Are. That's Where Home Is.

Luke might be a mind reader. Only with you, though.

Vice. ❁

Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Spencer Reid

Web of Lies. ✯

Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep one from you.

Cowboy!Spencer ✯

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Narcos

Javier Peña

Self Control. ❁

Javi keeps refusing himself what he wants. One night puts everything into perspective.

Yes, Mr President.

There's an endless amount of things you shouldn't do as the President of the United States. Defiling the Oval Office is definitely one of them.

Western Nights. ✯

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Jealousy, Jealousy. ❁

Javier Peña doesn't share.

Two Murphy's and a Peña.

Javier knows Steve's sister is off limits. He's never been one to follow the rules.

After Hours.

You and Javier are stuck in the office in the middle of a heatwave. You're hot in more ways than one.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Triple Frontier

Time. ❁

You get shot in Colombia. Frankie, Benny, Santiago and Will each have their own ways of helping you heal.

Tethered. ❁

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Home Is Where The Heart Is.

They say home is where the heart is. Your heart belongs to the four boys you call your best friends. Also known as - four important times the guys told you they loved you.

Will Miller

Champagne Fuelled Confessions.

You come home drunk, and have something burning you need to tell Will.

Best Friend's Brother.

You've known Benny for years. You've had a crush on his brother Will for years, too.

Frankie Morales

Find You.

A bad date brings Frankie Morales to your door at the perfect time.

Rain Soaked Romantic.

Frankie will run across town in the rain if it means finally telling you how he feels.

Santiago Garcia

This Is The Way It Always Goes.

Santiago always comes crawling back. You convince yourself this is the last time - but you both know that's not true.

Precious Girl.

A chance meeting with your Dad's best friend at 2am.

Benny Miller

Adrenaline.

Ben needs a way to work off his post match energy. You.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Pretty When You Cry. ❁

Joel realises his morals are fucked. You realise you like it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Succession

Stewy Hosseini

Clandestine. ✯

You and Stewy know it's wrong. So why, pray tell, does it feel so right?

Fully Clothed.

Being Stewy's assistant has its perks.

Consequence.

Stewy's actions have unexpected consequences.

Needy.

You've been waiting all day for Stewy to get home. He loves it.

Play Pretend.

The classic fake dating trope, with a twist.

The Place Where It All Began.

You reunite with Stewy at your high school reunion. Turns out, he's been waiting for you, all this time.

Risky.

The thrill of being caught makes it all the more exciting.

Kendall Roy

Me and You.

You quit as Kendall's assistant. He's been waiting for this day.

Illicit Affair.

You're Matssons wife. You're also in love with Kendall Roy.

Forced Proximity.

The classic only one bed trope, this time with your emotionally unavailable boss.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The Bear

Carmen Berzatto

The Roommate Collection. ✯❁

A collection of fics based on being roommates with Carmen.

Vienna.✯

Everything is the same. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed. Nothing is the same.

Carmen. ❁

Carmen. Your Carmen.

Denial. ❁

Carmy can’t keep pretending.

Mechanic!Carmen.

Inspired by that picture of JAW in a crop top.

Perfectionist. ❁

Your boyfriend being a professional chef has its perks. Especially when it comes to gingerbread houses.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

9-1-1

Evan Buckley

Lightning Strike. ❁

The two of you deal with the aftermath of Bucks trauma.

Fire Hazard. ❁

The story of your firehouse nickname - and Buck unable to handle you in a sundress.

That Old Cliche. ❁

You swore you’d never give in to the best man and maid of honour cliche. And then you met Evan Buckley.

Eddie Diaz

Best Seat in the House.

Blame it on the moustache.

Evan Buckley & Eddie Diaz

The Look of Love. ❁

You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Sons of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Heatwave. ❁

You cut Jax's hair. He can't keep his hands to himself.

Sundress Season. ❁

It’s sundress season. Jax can’t keep his hands to himself (again).

Filip 'Chibs' Telford

Teach Me How to Ride. ❁

Chibs is teaching you how to ride (in more ways than one).

Handled.

You and Chibs have been walking the line for a little too long.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Challengers

Two Can Play That Game.

You’re cheating on Patrick. You’re not proud of it, but it just… happened. Patrick’s cheating on you, too. He never meant for it to happen, but it just… did. Imagine the surprise from both of you when you find out that Art Donaldson is caught up right in the middle.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve Harrington

Cherry. ✯❁

The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

An engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. What could go wrong?

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Rivals

Declan O’Hara

Forbidden Fruit. ❁

That’s the thing about Declan - he always gets what he wants. It might be wrong… but it feels so right.

Shut Up and Drive.

It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? The one person who riles you up the most is also the only person that can calm you down.

Man of The Hour.

The sexiest thing about a man is his moustache morals.

Rupert Campbell Black

February Sky.

The highs are so high, but the lows are so low.

Golden Girl.

After years of keeping your private life private, everybody’s suddenly talking about your new boyfriend. When it rains, it pours.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

[salbei-141]

Be honest with me (Roman Roy x reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, pure fluff and comfort, mentions of verbal abuse

a/n: Inactivity who? A rare update I know lol. Anyway y’all I’m so in love with him - honestly in love with all the Roy siblings, but Romulus got a special place in my heart <3

I love how late I jump onto writing trends for characters, but in my defence I've had this in the drafts for MONTHS. Anyway, hope you enjoy my loves <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was silent, it felt too out of character, especially for Roman. The both of you lay in silence on his bed, still in today's clothes.

You move your hand slowly - scared that a sudden movement would cause him to suddenly get up and leave without warning. Tentatively, you inch your fingers onto his own - he said nothing, nor did he move. Gaining more confidence and desperate to comfort him knowing how loud his mind must be right now - you encapsulate his hand within your own. They’re soft and warm - Roman was always warm to touch. You feel his hand squeeze your own back - still no words being said.

You take a deep breath, feeling the need to break the silence finally, but before you can, Roman cuts you off.

“Please don’t,” his voice came out weak - he was usually so quick witted…he just sounded tired.

“Okay,” your voice was soft - a complete dichotomy to the tone he was used to from his father and siblings.

Another 30 minutes went by in complete silence - the both of your steady breaths being the only thing heard. Your hand still lay in his - he hadn't moved an inch unless it was to gently squeeze your hand every so often.

You turn on your side, slipping your hand out of his - he still didn't move. You decided to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder and draping your right arm across his chest that rose up and down with each breath he took.

You studied his face - he looked like he wanted to push you off of him, and yet simultaneously he was aching to pull you closer to him. Your touch was the only touch he felt safe feeling - you'd never hurt him, and he never doubted that thought for a second, but he was just so used to being alone and pushing people away.

You were desperate to hear his voice, to understand what was running through his head. You knew he was probably going to say some stupid quip to hide how he really felt, but you'd see straight through him; he knew this and it was the scariest thing to him - that you actually saw him.

"Ro...," you were gentle - a part of him just wanted you to shout at him and tell him he was a waste of space just like his father had - it was all he knew. However, you were just too kind, you actually cared for him, and not in the way his father cared for him - if you could call it that - but in a way that was so genuine and pure that it felt wrong to him, but he craved every second of it.

His gaze moved from the ceiling to your worried face - you looked beautiful he thought, he had always thought you were the most beautiful person he knew. "Yeah," his voice sounded small and tired.

"Are you okay?" the question was stupid, you knew he wasn't, but you wondered if he'd answer you honestly - if for once he'd be vulnerable with you, and truly let you into what was going through his mind.

"What? Pfft yeah I'm fine, real fucking good...just thinking about who has bigger tits - you or Gerri...I think Gerri does," there it was...he couldn't be honest with you for a minute if he tried - he'd rather say some crude shit and hope you'd be weirded out enough like everyone else and just leave him so he could avoid sharing his emotions.

You sat up, leaning on one hand as you stared down at him while he tried to avoid your gaze which was slowly glazing over with unshed tears. "Roman...please I-...can you just be honest with me?" your voice had a slight shake - scared that you were going to push him over the edge and he'd run.

He made eye contact with you, his heart clenching in his chest, no one had made him feel the way you could make him feel, and that scared him. He didn't know what to do - his mind was screaming so many things at him all at once that he couldn't really make a decision, so he stayed silent.

Several minutes passed of you both just holding each other's gaze then he opened his mouth tentatively, "Why do you care about me? Why can't you just call me a freak or a perv and leave?" You watched as his eyes reddened and glazed over as he tried his hardest not to cry in front of you. Had you cracked him? It felt bittersweet that he might finally just be honest with you, but the pain in his eyes was tearing at your heart.

You smiled, giggling softly as you lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped away a singular tear that had managed to fall, watching as he turned his face to meet your caress - he trusted you. "Because I fucking love you Roman".

"But why?" he interrupted you like a child would trying to understand such a foreign concept that you were trying to explain.

"There's no reason - I mean there is, you're...you. I love you Roman." You were so soft with him, it felt alien to him. It broke you that he couldn't fathom the concept of someone genuinely loving him, and in such a pure way too. This love wasn't like the love from his father, nor from his siblings - it was something so foreign that he couldn't understand it, but he liked it...he liked this.

You laid back down beside him, "Come here Ro...please" your eyes had such a soft stare - they were so warm and inviting, he couldn't object to the embrace you were offering him.

Roman inched across the bed over into your arms, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your chest, while you wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close to you. You fell into a comfortable silence, holding each other without a care in the world - it was just the both of you.

"I love you too, you know?" he muttered it so quietly that it almost went unheard, but a smile spread across your face at his confession. You knew that he had probably been having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he was actually going to say it to you; without any sarcasm too.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest and you pulled him closer to you, "Yeah I know". You tilted your head down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He went to open his mouth to say some sarky comment, but immediately shut it - he didn't need to feel defensive around you, not now, and not ever.

[youreirrelevant]

Skyglow

pairing: kendall roy/reader

summary: “I want you to take care of me.” That makes him ache. Fills him with that heavy, hot feeling- the one you get when something’s a little wrong.

words: 1787

tags: explicit, sickfic, daddy kink, praise kink, but also a little degradation kink, pwp, established relationship, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, playful sex, like the tiniest bit of fluff, implied age gap, there's really nothing that establishes when this is so

a/n: I started writing this when I was sick a few weeks ago and I thought I'd finish it. It's just for fun. It's a little silly. It doesn't all have to be serious or good.

It always felt like a waste, to stay in bed all day. Somehow scrolling through your phone in the living room seemed more productive than if you did it in bed. You barely even had the energy to do that. Left thinking. Wanting. Always find your mind wandering to him and what he can do for you. A warm, soft place to rest your hands. Press your lips against.

A deep voice to coax you through what his cock brings out of you— 

But the exhaustion was bone-deep. Bending a finger, lifting an eyelid- both felt nearly impossible. Even while lying down you felt weak, like you couldn’t get deep enough into the pillow, into the mattress. You needed to pool and bubble out; water spilled on the counter. 

The door opening wakes you from what must’ve been the fifth nap of the day. You were in a guest room- you didn’t want to get Kendall sick. He had shit to do, things that were “unmissable.” 

It’s dark. You can see out of the window from the bed; the sky is blue-black, a yellow edge on the horizon that fades up into it. Planes blink red and white across it. Only some of the windows in the other buildings are lit, and you wonder how late it really is. It's quiet; you can hear the AC running. The apartment is thrumming with a sleepy energy, like the way voices sound when you’re dozing off- blurred and smoothed at the edges.

“Can I, uh, can I sleep with you?”

You mumble that he can, voice croaky and gone. Scooting further in on the bed to make room for him- every joint aching so badly you almost whimper. He wraps his arm around you, kisses the back of your neck, and breathes. The heat on your skin makes you melt. 

“I couldn’t sleep without you in there with me.”

He brings you a little closer, for emphasis.

“I’d like to say the same, but I’m exhausted.”

A little huff of air from him, an affectionate smile you can’t see. Another kiss, right along your hairline. 

You both lay there for a while, but you don’t fall back asleep. The thoughts are much worse when he’s flush against you, firm thighs and a softer chest. His arms around you- you want him to use them to pull you down over him. 

“Why aren’t you sleeping? You said you’re tired.” He sounds groggy, as if maybe he’d fallen asleep, for just a second. 

“I know I was just- I was thinking of this,” you giggle a little, “of this tweet. Where this guy said that pussy, when someone has a fever, is crazy because it’s so hot.”

He grins so wide it hurts his face.

“Is this your way of, uh, telling me you want me to fuck you?”

“I mean- we gotta at least find out for ourselves.”

Kendall slips his hand beneath the waistband of your pajamas, uses the pads of his fingers to guide your leg up, to drape over his leg. He’s surprised to find you so wet, skin scorching against his. Wonders how long you were thinking about it. Rubs your clit slowly, and you’re practically boneless already. But then fingertips work down, towards your cunt, and you tense in anticipation. He knows you’re sick; he should be nice. But he can’t help but tease, doing it a few times until you whine his name. 

“You need it that bad?”

“Please- ” you sound kind of annoyed, as if his denial doesn’t warm you.

His clothes are moved just enough, but he grips the waistband of your pants to yank them down as far as he can from his position- he wants to get at you fully. They get stuck above your knees, and you huff and whine as you kick them free clumsily. Kendall’s undeterred, puts you back where you were. Presses in easily, and maybe they were right. Your groan is distant in his ears. When he’s seated fully, he rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“Well?”

“It- it is hotter. It could be, uh-,” he makes a muffled sound, like he’s steadying himself, “be in my head, though. Placebo effect, or something.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the noise scraping out of you so badly he almost couldn’t tell what it was.

“You’re ridiculous. You’ve been asleep all day, I come in to sleep with you and you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to take care of me.”

That makes him fucking ache. Fills him with that heavy, hot feeling- the one you get when something’s a little wrong. He places a big hand on the back of your thigh, slides it up to lift your ass cheek, spread you open. 

“Like, a daddy thing, or-?”

Oh… man.

“I don’t know if we- if we have to be so- if we need to go quite that far.”

As soon as you say it you’re prepared to recant. It makes your stomach fill with butterflies and warmth but it seems so much more taboo than other things that people would actually consider worse. So heavily stigmatized, something everyone knew about and mocked. His teeth press into your shoulder, like he’s squeezing it out of you. 

“Well- it does sound… kind of hot. Maybe we ease into it? Maybe ‘daddy’ doesn’t have to be said, but implied?”

His hand slips over your hip to rest on your lower stomach, a slow pull and push of his hips as his fingers find your clit again. Not wasting any time.

“You want me to ‘take care’ of you?”

Plush lips slide beneath your ear as he speaks, and every inflection and hard consonant fills you with heat. It’s your words, but from his mouth, it sounds good and perfect and right. His voice is soothing in this condescending way and it makes your lashes flutter.

“Yes, Kendall.”

He uses his palm against your pubic bone to pull you close, allow him to get deeper, fuck a little rougher. Insistent. You reach behind you to grab at his waist, fingers fisting in the soft fabric of his t-shirt. Your voice is fucked- every moan and whimper is broken and raspy and quiet. He kind of likes it, drags his lips over your neck, laughing affectionately when his finger presses harder, rubs at just the right angle, against just the right side and you cry out hoarsely. Barely able to keep your eyes open before but you want him so fucking bad. 

It’s like you’re next to a fire; you can practically see a red glow coming from your skin, penetrating your closed eyelids. You’re limp, melted into the smooth sheets, rolling weakly against him when you really need it. His brows pinch and his jaw falls open with a desperate noise before his lip is tucked beneath his teeth. Kendall props himself up on his elbow, fingers slipping into your hair, damp from sweat, turns your head enough to kiss you. So slack and pliant. You don't even think to stop him. 

“Does that feel better? Is this what you needed?” 

Jesus. It’s as if your brain is already fried- you’re already gone. Making some noise that’s probably the saddest attempt at an ‘mhmm,’ ever been done. Trembling, pulled tighter, breathing ragged and uneven and burning in your chest and throat. He brushes the tip of his nose over your temple- his own breath puffs rapid and hot against you.  Grunting when you grip even tighter. 

When you cum, it's so good it hurts. Like massaging a sore muscle, or fingers into your cheeks when your sinuses ache. It seeps into your hips and belly and back and you lean into it, into him. He shushes you and you can’t help but let out this startled ‘ god .’ You want to tell him he feels perfect, fucking perfect, but the words don’t come out. His pace doesn’t falter -no matter how snug and plush and slick you are around him- and it makes it seem like it’s lasting forever. 

Kendall thinks it’s lasting forever; you’re over a cliffside, on the other end of a rope, trying to pull him down when he has to keep you up. He makes sounds like he’s struggling; when you finally relax, he sounds relieved. 

Part of him wants to keep it up, and he can’t help, for a second, seeing the new ease with which his fingers slip over you, pressing three flat against your labia to make you squirm from the sensitivity. But that doesn’t last long, arm moving to wrap around your waist to hold you in place. Insistent. 

You’re awash with fatigue, fingers curling around the edge of your pillow, lids low over your eyes. Each time his hips meet your ass you make these pathetic little noises from the impact, sometimes barely even audible. He grabs your face again to turn you toward him- you feel hot, cheeks flushed to show it. Skin around your eyes, shiny, blueish, almost cartoonish. But you look up at him dutifully.

“You’re so pretty when you take it for me.”

That reignites something in you, makes you moan and grab at him.

“Such a pretty, perfect little girl deserves to feel good. Always desperate to cum on my cock- thinking about it when you can barely fucking think.”

You let out something between a gasp and a laugh, stunned. Thrown against the ledge but you can’t go over until you get that little bit more. 

“I- Ken, can you- would you-?”

This is how it always goes- just one more. Kendall gives it to you and goes to get his, but it always puts you right there, and he can’t help but oblige. He wants to tell you to do it yourself, because you’re tired, and maybe you won’t get off and you’ll get frustrated and whine. That makes him feel orange-hot and tingly, makes his hips stutter at the thought. But that’s not what this was tonight. The wide pad of his middle finger is tight against you -swollen, slick- and even with how fast you cum, he cums faster, hips so rough against yours that you whimper and wince.

He’s almost as light-headed as you are, almost as lax, weak. Every inch of you is unbearably heavy; it's like your skin could slough off your face. It’s so good.

“I might bring a whole new, literal level to sleeping like the dead.”

Your voice cracks and you slump forward onto your stomach, keeping your face turned from him.

“At least you’ll feel better.” Smiling softly, rubbing your back.

“You’ll join me shortly, since you fucking kissed me.”

[the-west-meadow]

omg! kendall and I’ll be home soon. please!!!!

oops I made this a lil smutty. 18+ for safety

Kendall Roy x Reader

prompt: I'll be home soon.

It was late when your phone rang. You were curled on top of Kendall’s bed with the TV flickering silently. You didn’t remember falling asleep. 

You grabbed your phone, blearily looking at the name. Your heart leapt. It was Kendall.

“Hey baby,” you said.

“Hey,” came his familiar voice on the other end. “Did I wake you up?”

“Can you tell?”

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“It’s okay. I’m so glad you called. Where are you?”

“About a mile above the Atlantic.”

You propped yourself up on pillows, leaning back against the headboard.

“How did everything go?”

“Great.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, I can’t get into it now.”

“Oh, I get it. Is your family around?”

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“God, Kendall. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. We’re almost back.”

“How soon?”

“About two hours.”

“Should I wait up for you?”

“Are you sure you won’t fall asleep again?”

You could hear the grin in his voice. 

“I’ll try not to.”

“What have you been doing while I was away?”

“Thinking about you.”

“Stop. That’s not all.”

“You’re right. That’s not all.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ve been lying in our bed wishing there was someone here with me.”

“Uh-huh. Who would that be?”

“You, Kendall. Just you.”

“What else?”

“At night I turn off all the lights. Then I take off my clothes and slide into our bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s no good when you’re away. I need someone here to help me. I can’t do it all myself.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to come here to me. I need you to put your hands on me. I need you to get high with me and stay up all night.”

“I can absolutely do that.”

“Good. Then get here faster. I’m in bed now but I still have all my clothes on.”

“Well, maybe you should change that.”

“What should I take off first? Start from the top down?”

“Yes.”

You put the phone on speaker and set it in the center of the bed. Then you lifted your shirt over your head and dropped it on the floor.

“I’m not wearing any underwear at all.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m sliding off my pants. I wish you were here to do it for me.”

Your pants slid off the bed, onto the floor.

“Do you want me to touch myself?” you said into the phone.

“Not until I get there.”

“Well, too bad you’re not here to stop me.”

There was a long pause on the other end. You heard muffled movement. Then Kendall’s voice came through.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he said. “I just stepped into the bathroom. Now listen to me closely.”

“I’m listening.”

“Stay just like you are. Naked. In our bed. On top of the sheets. In two hours I’m going to walk in the door. I might be a little high already. I’m going to come in the bedroom and take off my shoes, my jacket, all my clothes. Then I’m going to crawl over you and proceed to fuck you like I haven’t seen you in three weeks. Then we’re going to do another bump and we’re going to fuck some more. And you’re going to wish you could go back to sleep but I’m going to keep you up all night, Y/N. I hope you’re ready.”

“Fuck, Kendall. I’m so fucking ready.”

“You better not be touching yourself."

“You’re making it really fucking difficult.”

“I’ll be home soon,” he said. “I promise. Then I’ll take care of you. Okay?”

“I know you will.”

“Wait up for me.”

“Always.”

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient

Pairing ▹ Roman Roy x Fem! Reader

Synopsis ▹ After graduating college, you had a hard time finding anything. You were living paycheck to paycheck, until your old college roommate tried to help out with getting you an interview at her job, Waystar Royco. After a mix up, you find out that you were interviewing for Kendall's little brother, Roman. The more time you spent with him, you realized his whole facade of being the weird noisy arrogant douche was just to cover up really dark issues. But how much of it can you take til it just becomes way too much for you? You had your own stuff to deal with.

Notes ▹ I decided to finally start a series about Roman. There is not enough fan fictions about him. There's going to be talks about past traumas and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I plan on making the character have deep rooted trauma as well, but hiding it a lot better than Roman, not as well though. There will be triggers for past child abuse, implied (c)SA, mentions of EDs and some substance abuse. Regardless of the heavy tones, I hope you have fun reading. This is mostly a therapy writing thing.

.・。.・゜✭・.Playlist ・✫・゜・。.

Chapters ▹ Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

maybe holding hands under the table with kendall roy pleaseee🫶🏼

Send me a gentle prompt

Sure thing :D

You didn't want to come in the first place.

Look, you know Kendall's family is important to him. They're inextricably tied to him, to his business, to what you're certain he deems his sense of purpose. Meeting Roman had been a little nerve-wracking, but not bad. Meeting Shiv had been intimidating. Meeting Connor had been a fucking breeze (once you realized not to let him bait you into talking about class politics).

But Thanksgiving is...A lot.

The food is delicious, and it's almost enough to distract you—but you feel like you're under such a microscope with all of the Roys and their paramours Marcia, Marcia's son, Rava and the children. It's nearly too much.

Willa's kindly tried to draw you into conversation a couple of times. She knows what it's like, coming into this bunch. But you've only managed to give a couple of flat, one-word answers and fleeting smiles before the cacophony of the table has taken you over again.

You lean back in you seat a little, lowering your wine glass and swallowing thickly as you peer down at your half-finished plate. Before you can reach for your fork, you feel Kendall's hand on your thigh. You glance at it nervously, smiling as he takes your hand. You can't help but turn your gaze toward him, smiling at the sight of his questioning gaze.

You give him a small, reassuring nod, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. His own smile widens as he raises your joined hands, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before lowering it.

[spxllcxstxr]

Kintsugi • K.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Pls pls I need Kendall x young reader wife with a kid living in a remote place away from all the post waystar drama — anon

Summary: Six months later, Kendall still believes he's broken

Warnings: fem!reader (referred to as girl and mommy), usage of mommy and daddy but in pure parental terms, you have an unnamed daughter, rehab mention, kendall takes meds and goes to therapy now, past suicide implication/mention?, normal ken stuff, spoilers for the end of succession

Word Count: 1.2k (I didn't think it was gunna be this long lmao)

A.N: this was a little angsty im not gunna lie lmao, I’m going feral over this request—I just want Ken to be HAPPY, not enough happy Kendall gifs, also i am not entirely great with writing modern bros so like sorry about the characterization? first kendall piece so if you have any tips let me know, hope you all enjoy!

Kintsugi - a Japanese art form that involves repairing broken pottery with gold

•

"Ken? Ken honey do you want to join us at the beach today?" Your words cut through the painful silence of your master bedroom, shrouded in darkness despite it being past noon.

Kendall gives no indication that he heard you; no vague grunt or shift in movement. He just lays there--the blanket covering everything below his nose as his eyes stay closed. He isn't sleeping, you've been married to him long enough that his shuddering breaths and still as stone rigid posture was a poor attempt to convince you otherwise.

It’s like he thinks the blanket is the only thing holding him together. Like if he leaves that spot he’ll crumble to pieces right in front of you.

Your heart drops just looking at him. Being away from the city had obviously done some good, along with his month long visit to rehab, but Ken was still…healing.

You kiss his forehead before leaving, telling your disappointed daughter that daddy wouldn't be joining you today.

"It's one of daddy's bad days?" She asks once you feet hit the sand. Her childish voice laced with her innocence almost makes you tear up.

"It is, sweetie..." You nod, before quickly distracting her with placing your towels down and bringing out water bottles from her little pink lunchbox.

The ocean is what occupies her little body for the first hour or so. She jumps over the little waves and collects sea shells. Like what any parent would do, you snap photos of her with the biggest grin on her face.

Eventually, though, the two of you end up in the sand, using her plastic bucket and shovel to build a castle fit for a queen. She's actually not half bad, you notice, as the usual clumsy movements of a toddler are no longer present when she details her sandcastle.

“How’re my girls?”

You look up from the sand beneath your fingers to see your husband, clad in shorts and t-shirt.

“Daddy!” Your daughter shrieks, practically stomping all over the sandcastle the two of you were working on to get to Kendall.

She hugs his knees, squeezing them between her little arms, and he crouches down to hug her back.

Your husband smiles and it’s enough to convince your daughter—but not you.

He's tired, you notice; though it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. At just a glance it looks as if your husband has aged 50 years in six months. His eyes are sunken, not mention the dullness of his usually bright brown eyes. Kendall's normally sun-kissed skin now a deathly grey, which makes sense, he has barely left your bedroom much less the house. It’s almost as if someone had taken a spoon and hollowed out everything that made him human. Frown lines are etched into his face, your heart almost shatters at the overpowering aura of sadness and despair surrounding him.

Six months isn't enough time to wash away the years at Waystar.

You smile at him as your daughter takes his hand and drags him to the crumbling sandcastle.

Once he sits down he kisses you, placing a large hand on the side on your face. You taste the mint of the mouthwash he must've just used before his trek down here. Kissing Kendall was addicting, it always was, but with your daughter's groan of disgust you slowly pull away from him.

"Oh don't be like that kiddo, that's just what mommies and daddies do when they're in love." Kendall teases, ruffling her hair in the process.

She sticks her tongue out before turning her attention back on the ruins of the castle in front of her. Instead of crying about the state of it, she happily starts rebuilding with the help of you and Ken.

One eye never leaves his figure.

This sort of mood swing isn’t uncommon, for years you’ve experienced Kendall’s drastic moods, but this certainly wasn’t one of his highs.

The sandcastle slowly morphs into a sandkingdom; once she starts she never wants to stop. That is, until your daughter finally gets tired after the sun sets and she curls into Kendall’s lap.

You know you should get back to the house, it’s late, but it’s just too peaceful out here, alone on the beach.

Careful not to stir the little girl in his lap, Kendell leans his head on your shoulder, shifting closer to your warm figure. The stars flicker above you--a sight you almost never saw in the city. You take a deep breath before kissing your husband's recently buzzed head. Kendall hums, nuzzling even closer into you, like he was trying to burrow underneath your skin so you never had to leave him.

"I love you, Kendall. And we're ok." You whisper, the words getting eaten by the crashing waves just feet away from the two of you. Still, he hears you, you can tell by the sniffle against your shirt. Your daughter groans in her sleep, shifting.

He swallows roughly at your words.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)…I fucked it.” Ken chokes out quietly, trying not to disturb the child. “I fucked it and I’m broken.”

His tears seep into your shirt. You angle your head down, your nose brushing against the top of his head.

"Oh Ken honey..." Your own lip wobbles at your husband's vulnerability. "You're not broken...you were never broken..."

"Then I'm--I'm fucking cracked, (Y/n)! I'm just not whole anymore! I don’t know if I ever was!"

Thoughts race through your head. Kendall had been doing better. He was consistent with taking his meds and he went to therapy every week. What if he tried to--? You clutch him closer to you, trying not to make yourself spiral when Kendall needed you.

His body shakes with silent sobs, your daughter still peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world around her.

The cool ocean breeze dances across your skin. You take a deep breath.

"Have you ever heard of kintsugi, Ken?"

"What? I'm having a complete breakdown and you're asking me about whatever the fuck that is?" He huffs, annoyed.

"Just listen to me Ken, it'll go somewhere." You kiss the top of his head to comfort his suddenly tense figure beside you. He eases at the contact. "I read in some stupid magazine that it's a Japanese technique where they repaired broken pots and stuff with gold." Kendall lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red with unshed tears and his eyebrows are furrowed, listening to you. "They were made whole again; made more beautiful and were stronger than before."

Kendall purses his lips as you bring a hand up to stroke his tear stained cheek. Your other hand lightly strokes through your daughter's hair, careful not to rouse her.

"We'll be your gold, Kendall."

All at once the tension leaves his body, tears cascading down his face. His once dimly lit eyes brighten to reflect the stars above.

"Right," He nods, almost like he doesn't know how to respond to what you just said. "My gold..." His eyes flick between you and your daughter before his head settles back onto your shoulder, almost as if he couldn't take anymore emotions for the day.

You sigh, leaning your own head against his. Closing your eyes, you let the sound of the waves wash over the otherwise silent night.

The stars still shine above you and the saltiness of the ocean tinges the air.

You were all going to be alright.

•

[from-the-clouds]

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse. 

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake. 

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being  haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim. 

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes. 

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers. 

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured. 

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy. 

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out. 

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.” 

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes. 

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking. 

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity.  “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.” 

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?” 

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin. 

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips. 

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric. 

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away. 

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does. 

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that –  for anyone except himself, pisses him off.  “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked. 

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress,  I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties. 

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle,  pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to  exactly what you like, what you need.  You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes. 

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you. 

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face. 

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you. 

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good. 

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony. 

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do. 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him.  Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name. 

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete. 

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on. 

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again. 

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.” 

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him. 

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

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?”

“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

[beegomess]

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!! 🫠

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xoxo, bebe🫶🏼💕