#kendall roy x reader smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enviedear · 2 years ago

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if you dance i'll dance ⟶ kendall roy

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which you let kendall roy take you home. CW ⌙ smut so 18+, kendall x fem!model!reader, mentions of alcohol, poker, the word suicide, age gap (if you squint) WORD COUNT ⌙ 5.0k

i caved, blacked out and wrote a kendall fic. there are so many personal headcanons in here because this man is clay and i am a modern pygmalion

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you're unabashedly staring at the dark-haired man just a few feet away from you. it’s sly, the way you study him, discerning the jeering look in his eyes and an obvious trace of annoyance in his posture—he looks wildly opposite of how you remembered him.

gone were the blankly formal stares you had become accustomed to seeing him with at events like this, no, now he exuded self-assuredness. he had become wholly—machiavellian.

he's toying with his cuff links, his deep hazel eyes peering over the man talking to him, and straight into your own. in your somewhat inebriated state, you can't help the small smile that works its way onto your face. you enjoy his gaze on you, consuming you a in gentle sense of cardinal obscenity.

really, you should have looked away from him ages ago. the ideas and whispers of the wealthy party-goers were quick to jump to judgment. one wrong move and you'd be labeled; scandalous, unseemly, or, as your sister put it— "wildly inappropriate and bad for the brand".

but you couldn't tear your eyes away. there was an abnormal pull between the two of you, a connection that left the boundaries of reason and social norms. it wasn't the first time you had found yourself caught in his captivating gaze.

in the past, before your departure from your father's company, you indulged each other with subtle glances exchanged during business meetings and corporate events— a few fleeting touches of hands when passing each other documents— an unspoken language that existed only between you, concealed beneath the façade of professionalism.

tonight, after almost two years since seeing him, something was different. he seemed bolder, more daring. the way his eyes lingered on you conveyed a message of desire and longing, impossible to ignore.

you discreetly shift your position, knowing he was aware of the effect he had on you, reveling in the power he held over your senses.

you mull over the past moments of connection, witty banter shared during business negotiations, and the occasional late-night phone calls that blurred the line between professional and personal. it had always been a delicate dance, a game of push and pull.

now though, under the dim lights of the extravagant party, you wondered if it was time to err off your path of caution. the air feels wrought with anticipation, and the weight of unspoken words hangs heavy on you.

you take a sip of your vodka lime and, finally, you let your eyes scan the crowd of people. mostly business partners of your dad's, a few of your brother's old college friends, and a plethora of trophy wives, all huddled around your elder sister.

the woman in question soaks in the attention beautifully, mimicking movements you grew up watching your mother do. she fits in so easily, whether aided by her connections and power or the rather large diamond ring on her finger. you continue to eye her, only to meet her gaze, watching with a soft smile as she excuses herself.

her mauve dress flutters around her ankles as she makes her way over. she looks light, graceful, stern. you can admit she had a notable walk. which is, comical, since you've spent years walking runways— frequently run by tyrannically strict show directors— and yet, she had somehow managed to do it better.

the party continues around you, the opulent setting of your family's estate providing a backdrop of luxury and excess. crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow on the attendees, their laughter and conversations blending into a symphony of privilege and ambition. a world you were born into, but one that has always felt suffocating.

your family relationships are better than most, but always complex. a delicate web of power, dissension, and affection. your father, ever the patriarch, built an empire that you and your siblings were expected to inherit.

to his disdain, the weight of those expectations never fell comfortably on your shoulders.

as your sister approaches you, her presence commands attention. her success is undeniable, and her ambition rivals your father's. she's the embodiment of family legacy, but beneath her polished exterior, you still see the funny little girl you grew up with.

she reaches you, her gaze shifting between you and kendall, her voice carrying a mix of concern and warning. "you know he's trouble, right? kendall roy is not someone you want to get involved with," she peers down at you, "trust me, i've done deals with him."

you feign shock, "what are you talking about?"

a slight eye roll from her, "he's trouble, and you know it— or at least, you should."

you put your arms up in faux surrender, "i don't know. trouble sounds a lot better than standing around here."

"right— because isn't this just the best thing we could be doing on a friday night?" her voice is sweet, with a sarcastic undertone, lips falling into a smirk.

you roll your eyes, but feel thankful for the deflection, "for you? yes. me, no."

she huffs out a small laugh, "you could always network with my socialites."

nodding you reply, "i'm just... not sure the thirty-something wives of infantile rich guys, necessarily, want to hear about my twenty-something nepotism baby spiel."

your sister laughs, smile lines prominent, "fine, yeah. just stop brooding against the wall—" she goes to say something else before stopping, lips slowly down turning into a very polite grimace, "kendall, how nice to see you,"

you take a glance at him— he’s reminiscent of shadow, in his fitted black suit and the general aura of discordance that falls around him. he's a murky mess of a man, and you were well aware. looking quickly back to your sister, you opt to sink back further against the wall and watch the pair.

"yeah, you too," he's smiling at her, but the look in both of their eyes is full of contempt, "congrats, by the way. i heard about the wright deal."

your sister nods, "all in a day's work, and sorry, by the way, for souring your proposal."

he takes the remark, grin growing, "eh…roman's proposal, but still, congrats, really."

she hums a response before looking at you, eyes reflecting an imminent request, "i think it may be time to introduce dad for his speech, hm?"

you shrug, "i mean—i don't work here, why would i present him?"

"because you're his kid." she replies, pressing you once more.

you point into the crowd, "our heir apparent is right there." your brother stands tall amongst his circle, looking as though they were all picked straight out of a business 101 textbook. she gives you a short-lived glare before stepping away, priorities falling back to her aspirational COO position.

now, left alone with the older man, you can finally indulge him. he decides to make a show out of greeting you, taking his time to meet your gaze, before looking down at you with obvious mischief in his vision.

"you know,” he draws out, smiling down at you as though he has you tightly bound around his finger, “i’ve been meaning to, uh, congratulate you, as well.”

you stare at him for a second, trying to decide if his words were earnest or insincere, “yeah? on what?”

his words come out soft this time, but still loud as to be heard over the party around you, “you. you’re— fucking everywhere. i can’t go anywhere in the city without seeing your face.”

you wonder if kendall was aware of the way his words sounded? you’re sure he must. he was audacious, so much so that you questioned how much ego he had left to spare. surely people had already begun taking notice of the two of you, and he had to know they'd talk.

it wasn’t unknown to you that anyone who manages to obtain kendall's presence is often cursed with at least one or two scalding rumors afterward. but, right now, as his words replay in your head, it feels significantly harder to care.

you draw closer to him, “oh, come on... don't tell me you're getting tired of seeing my face?" your tone is teasing—saccharine.

"yeah?" his head shakes in a curt nod, a smirk on his lips, "no, i— obviously wouldn't say that." you quirk your brows up and he continues, "i mean really, fucking, it's deserved. you look good."

"thank you, kendall." you feel brave as you stare into his eyes, enthralled by his mere presence, “you’re a lot sweeter than the google alerts on my phone make you seem.”

kendall smirks at you, "oh, i'm sure i could be much sweeter if given the chance."

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. "mhm, is that what you think?"

he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "you could give me a chance to prove it to you?"

you go frigid at the sensation, feeling both excited and apprehensive about whatever he might have in mind.

you feel a wave of excitement wash over, tinged with a hint of fear. you've see kendall roy and his infamous reputation first-hand countless times. you know that if you go with him— it’s a risk. but at the same time, you can't deny the strange pull that he has on you. there's something magnetic about him, something that draws you in and makes you want to take a chance.

you glance around the room, catching glimpses of your family and their friends. so far off from you. none of them would ever understand the thrill of indulging in irreverence. but kendall...he understands. he's bold, and right now, he's offering you a chance to be the same.

hesitating, you slowly nod your head in agreement. "sure," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "let's go."

he flashes you a crooked grin and takes your hand, leading you out of the crowded room and into the cool night air. as you follow him, you feel a sense of excitement building inside you. you have no idea where he's taking you, but you don't care.

you walk side by side with him, the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement providing a steady beat to the anticipation that courses through your veins. the dimmed headlights of his awaiting car cast a soft glow upon the two of you.

you get into the car, falling into a silence— comfortable yet charged. you steal glances at him, trying to decipher the enigmatic allure that surrounds him. there's a darkness in his eyes, a hint of a tumultuous past that has shaped him into the captivating figure he is today.

as the car glides through the city streets, the world outside rushes by in a blur of lights and shadows, mirroring the whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. kendall's presence beside you is both intoxicating and unsettling, and you find yourself questioning your decision to join him on this impulsive escapade.

the silence stretches between you, long with unspoken words and unexplored possibilities. you steal occasional glances at him, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. his face is a mosaic of contradictions—handsome yet hardened, alluring yet guarded.

finally, unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you break the silence. "so, where are you taking me?"

he glances at you, a hint of amusement dancing in his hazel eyes. "somewhere a little more private," he replies, his voice low and velvety. "somewhere we can talk without prying eyes.” his cryptic response only fuels your intrigue. you lean back against the plush leather seat, contemplating the enigmatic man beside you.

as the car pulls to a stop, and he opens the car door for you. you step out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air brushes against your skin as he leads you towards the building's entrance. inside, a doorman greets you with a nod, recognizing kendall immediately. you follow him into the elevator, the atmosphere brimming with anticipation.

he presses a button for the penthouse floor, and the elevator begins to rise. the doors slide open, revealing a lavish living space bathed in soft lighting. expansive windows offer breathtaking views of the city skyline, and you can't help but be captivated by the luxurious surroundings.

kendall leads you further into the penthouse, passing by a sleek bar stocked with an impressive array of wines and spirits. he gestures towards it, a troublesome glint in his eyes. "want a glass?" he asks.

you nod, "sure, why not?"

he moves behind the bar, pouring two glasses of wine. as he hands you one, your fingers brush against each other, sending an embarrassing shiver down your spine. the air crackles with tension as you take a seat at his dining table.

your ears perk up at the sound of cards being shuffled, and you look up to see kendall dealing them out on the table. "do you play?" he inquires, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

you contemplate him for a moment, your own smirk rising to the surface. "a few times," you reply, curiosity glinting in your eyes. "but why? what are we playing for here?"

he leans back in his chair, his gaze unwavering from yours. "we could make it interesting? a friendly wager to add some excitement?"

your brow rises in question. "what do you have in mind?"

he moves closer, his voice dropped low and sultry. "okay, if i win, you owe me a dance—one song of your choice."

you tilt your head slightly, feigning innocence. "and if i win?"

a sly grin creeps across his face. "then i'll owe you, fucking, whatever you want."

you take a sip of wine, its sweet taste still lingering on your tongue as you lock eyes with him. "deal," you declare with newfound determination.

you watch as kendall expertly shuffles the deck of cards, his fingers moving with a grace that hints at his confidence, you can't help but be drawn further into him. with each card played and every glance exchanged. you find yourself captivated by it all.

“you certainly have built quite a reputation,” you joke, wanting to break his poker face. “they say you are a master manipulator—a cunning strategist. is that true?”

kendall scoffs with smug satisfaction in his eyes. “reputation is such a fickle thing, huh? good press, bad press.” he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “but to answer your question, yes, it’s true. i’m strategic, finding ways to come out on top. i don't like being beat.”

you lean in, intrigued by his confidence. “you're making it sound like it’s a game,” you say, studying the way his eyes light up with a fire that both excites and intimidates you.

“it is a game,” he replies nonchalantly. “it's all a bullshit game, and the only way to win is to play it better than everyone else."

you hesitate, “is that sort of power really worth it?”

he pauses, his expression shifting from smugness to something more thoughtful. “maybe it isn't about the power,” he admits after a moment, “yeah, it's not just about getting ahead—it's about staying ahead of everyone else." he gazes at you intently, and for a moment, you can see why he has earned himself such a reputation.

"i want to be the one in control," he says softly. "i want to be the one making the decisions—the one with the upper hand, all of it."

his words have an unmistakable charm and magnetism. the logical woman inside of you begins to unravel and melt away.

he grins, his eyes never leaving yours. "but what about you?" he asks, his voice low and husky. "what's your strategy?"

you feel a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his gaze. his words and his presence have a way of making you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

"i don't have a strategy," you reply honestly, feeling a little embarrassed by your lack of direction.

he leans back in his chair again, his face unreadable. "everyone has a strategy," he says. "especially people with dads like ours."

you think about this for a moment, trying to figure out what your own could possibly be. "i guess, doing what's best for me," you say finally. "i left my dad's company for a reason. i don't fit in that world."

his eyes narrow a little as he looks at you. "so is that why you're modeling?" he asks teasingly. "competing for ceo isn't glamorous enough?"

you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his teasing. "no, it's not about glamour," you say firmly. "it's about control over myself, my image, and my identity. things you don't get working at a finance company."

kendall watches you carefully, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you think he might say something sarcastic or dismissive, but he surprises you by nodding slowly, "i can respect that," he says after a moment.

you feel a strange sense of relief wash over you. the conversation with Kendall has been intense, but hearing him say that he respects your decisions and aspirations puts you at ease.

"thank you," you say softly, the tension in your shoulders dissipating. "i know it might not be the most conventional, but it feels right."

he nods again, his gaze never leaving yours. "there's nothing wrong with that," he says, his voice low and velvety. "i mean, again, you're fucking everywhere. almost every damn billboard i see."

you warm at kendall's directness, but you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at the way he looks at you. it's like he sees past all of your insecurities and doubts, straight into the heart of who you are.

"i work hard," you say simply, trying to keep your voice steady even though every nerve in your body is firing with desire. "and i enjoy what i do."

he leans forward slightly, his eyes darkening as they meet yours again. "i can tell."

as the final card is played, you can hardly contain the sheer overlay of thrill on your face. he looks up at you, a sly smile playing on his lips. "looks like luck is on my side tonight," he says, voice laced with triumph.

you cock an eyebrow, but you are elated inside. your plans with kendall are about to become a reality. you slowly stand up from the chair and extend your hand toward kendall. "all right," you say, though you can hear your own anxiety in your voice. "i owe you that dance."

kendall takes your hand in his, an intense jolt of electricity surging through your veins. he leads you into a quiet corner of the room where a record player with a stack of vinyl records sits, their edges tattered and aged by time. you reach for one particular record, its smooth surface familiar beneath your fingertips. julie london's image is frozen on the cover, a beautiful reminder of a forgotten legend.

you turn to him, admiration in your eyes as you hold up the record, "i commend your taste," you say.

he looks surprised, an unexpected vulnerability showing in his expression. "i've never actually listened to it," he admits with curiosity.

insisting on this one, you declare, "well then, this one's perfect."

kendall nods and watches as you start the record, extending his hand toward you. you take it without hesitation, and he pulls you gently to your feet. the music softly plays in the background, its melodic rhythm setting the stage for your impromptu dance.

as you step closer, the world around you seems to fade into the background. it's just the two of you, swaying to the music, locked in an intimate embrace. his touch is electrifying, and you find yourself getting lost in the moment, the now inescapable vying between you growing stronger with each passing second.

when the song comes to an end, you and kendall hold each other for a moment longer, reluctant to let go. the room is filled, shortly, with a charged silence, the air heavy with unspoken words.

the lingering silence is finally broken as the next song begins, and as kendall breaks the embrace, his eyes searching yours. there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a flicker of uncertainty mixed with desire. his voice comes out softer than before, as if he's baring a part of himself that he rarely reveals.

“you know,” he begins, his voice hardened with a cutting edge, “you’ve really worked hard to create this saintly image of yourself, so i'm a little confused as to why you want to ruin it with me.” his assessment hits you like a ton of bricks, the apprehension and fear intensifying as he speaks. But despite the risks looming over you, you can't help but feel drawn to him, knowing that the connection between you two is something extraordinary in a life otherwise full of strife.

a mixture of determination and amusement flashes in your eyes as you meet his gaze,"i doubt you'll ruin anything." you say confidently.

He carefully mulls over your words, his gaze piercing you as if he's trying to unlock the unspoken secrets behind them. A wave of gratefulness and yearning wash over his face before he softly murmurs, "no?" His voice is deep and velvety, laced with a newfound conviction.

"no," you reply softly, eyes low. "i... trust you, and i've wanted this for a long time."

kendall's eyes light up with a mixture of surprise and joy. "you have?" he asks, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

you nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "yeah, i have. but you know— had to keep it professional, right?"

kendall chuckles softly, his gaze never leaving yours. "fucking professionalism."

you feel your heart skip a beat at his words, and a rush of excitement courses through you. "oh, and you're saying you wouldn't have cared?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods, his eyes shining with intensity. "no, not it if it's you," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "i'll make new rules for you."

the air between you two crackles with electricity, and without another word, you lean in and kiss him. the kiss is soft at first, but quickly intensifies as the passion between you two builds. you feel his hands on your back, pulling you closer to him.

as the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of surrender. despite knowing that being with him is societal suicide, you can't find it within yourself to care. with a sense of abandon, you let yourself get lost in the moment and in the man in front of you.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your body flush against his. his hands move to your hips, pulling you even closer to him.

you can feel his desire for you, his need for you, and it only fuels the fire within you. now, it's you to deepen the kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth as his hands roam over your body.

the music continues to play softly in the background, adding to the atmosphere of the moment. you feel a sense of freedom and liberation, letting yourself go.

your hands move from his neck to his chest, feeling his heart racing under your touch. you break the kiss, breathing heavy, and look up at him. his eyes are filled with hunger, and you can feel your own want growing.

without a word, he leads you to a nearby couch, laying you down on it as he hovers over you. he starts to kiss your neck, and you can't help the moan that comes out.

his hands move to unzip your dress, as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. you arch your back, allowing him easier access to your dress. as he pulls it down, revealing your bra, he trails his fingers over your skin, sending jolts of electricity through your body. "you're fucking beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

you reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off and running your hands over his chest. his skin is warm and smooth under your fingertips, and you can feel his muscles tense as you explore his body. "you're not so bad yourself," you whisper, a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

he leans down to kiss you again, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. as he pulls it off, he takes a moment to admire you. he leans down to take one into his mouth, and you gasp in pleasure as he teases it with his tongue.

"fuck, kendall," you can't help it— you moan his name, your hands tangled in his hair as he continues to explore your body.

you feel him smile against you before pulling away, “you make the prettiest damn sounds.”

you feel yourself fluster at his words, choosing to hide it by pulling him back toward you. your lips find his again, and you feel his hand begin to sink further down your body.

his hands come to a stop at your hips, fingers drawing circles on the exposed skin. you roll your hips, a weak attempt to release the ache you feel.

“oh come on,” his voice is taunting, “you gotta work for it a little more, sweetheart.”

you huff, eyes finding his own, “is that what you want me to do?”

he breathes, head coming to rest between your thighs, hazel eyes never leaving yours, “i want you… to lay back, and let me taste you.”

he doesn’t wait for you to say anything, instead, he lets his hands fiddle with the hem of your underwear. you squirm at the touch, before leaning down fully onto the couch.

you watch him lower himself to you, leaving chaste kisses on your upper thighs. your hands find their way to his hair, urging him closer.

he peeks up at you, sly smile on his lips, “did you want something? because if so, you need to tell me.”

“you’re a dick,” you say, voice weak as he continues to unwind you. you know what he wants. begging.

your remark, however, neglects to effect him. instead his fingers begin to massage your clit. your eyes grow heavy at the touch, hips rolling to get more friction.

he refuses to speed up, and you reach for his arm, nails digging into his skin, “ken— please.”

his only response is to hook your waistband with his fingers and pull your underwear down, revealing you fully to him. he moves out of your reach, and you hear him take in a sharp breath as he feasts his eyes on you.

“fuck you look so good,” he mutters, voice thick. “so fucking good.”

you don’t have time to respond as you feel him kiss you, his mouth falling on your most sensitive spot. you let out a soft cry, and he takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside you. you move against him, trying to get used to the foreign feeling. but you don’t have long to get used to it, because soon he adds another, and you finally feel yourself relax, letting him in.

you let out a moan of protest when he pulls away, but he just gives you a wicked grin and lowers himself to you again

your hips buck at the feeling, but he shows no intention of stopping. he starts to move his fingers faster, and you can hear yourself moaning his name again and again, your hands gripping the couch beneath you as your eyes roll back.

you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but you don’t want to come just yet. you reach down, finding him and taking him into your hand. he lets out a sharp breath, before moving his fingers faster.

you start to feel yourself build up again, and you let yourself go; moving against his fingers, against him. you come quietly, your body twisting in pleasure. you’ve barely come down from it, when he reaches up and pulls your face towards his, and kisses you.

you can taste yourself on his breath, and the sound of him unzipping his pants is loud in the silent room. you reach for him, and you can feel him jerk in your hand.

he stares deeply into your eyes, desire blazing in the darkness of his gaze. "do you know how badly i want you?" his voice is strained with longing.

you smile and whisper back, "show me."

he removes his clothing and lowers himself between your legs. you gasp as you feel the length of him press against your thigh. he leans down to kiss you as he slides through your folds inch by inch.

his eyes are locked with yours as he slides down between your legs. you let out a sharp intake of breath as you feel him pressing against your thigh, his arousal evident. his mouth captures yours in a passionate kiss as he gradually moves inside you inch by inch. his movements spark intense waves of pleasure throughout your body, leaving you breathless and helplessly whimpering below him.

he pauses, allowing himself to adjust, before passionately planting a kiss on your lips. his hands carefully lift your legs around his waist, as he pulls you closer. then, without warning, he thrusts deep within you, making your body quiver and shake with pleasure. the room is filled with the sounds of his body colliding with yours, as you both share passionate moans of pleasure.

the sensations ripple throughout your body and you moan into his mouth as he pushes further and further until he's completely embedded within you.

“fuck, honey," he breathes, pulling out slowly and steadying himself before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. he moves your legs up around his waist and pulls you closer, then starts thrusting gently back inside of you. the sound of skin slapping together reverberates around the room, along with your moans of pleasure.

he speeds up, pushing against your walls with each rhythmic thrust. you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge as he moves faster and harder inside of you, until finally— your breath catches as an orgasm crashes over you intensely.

kendall's thrusts become sloppy, his head buried into the crook of your neck. with a deep groan, he finds his own climax shortly after yours subsides, breathless from the sheer intensity of it all.

finished, he pulls away gently and wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you into a soft embrace. you press closer to him, both of you silently taking each other in.

you let him peer down at you, as you gaze up at him. he looks softer in the dim light of his living room. he's still a cryptic cynic, no lights can hide that. but the way his hands hold you to him halts your care. you decide then, that you're committed to the risk of him.

#kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x reader smut #kendall roy x you #kendal logan roy #succession #waystar royco

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chaithetics · 5 months ago

Text

Desperate to Please

Pairing: Kendall Roy x f (afab) reader Part 2 (To Sit in Hell with You) Word count: 4.3K Warning: 18+ MDNI interact, my attempt at sexual tension, smut, language warning, a couple of references to canonical-esque drug use and toxic Roy family dynamics, bit of angst I guess? Not proof-read and run on sentences. Reader has no physical descriptions, it's you! A/N: HAPPY SUCCESSION SUNDAY! I hope you all enjoy this Kendall brainrot, I was a bit scared as this was my first time writing a Kendall fic, I'd only written him in Stewy x Roy reader fics before. I hope you all enjoy this! Big thank you to @waystarkia and @maraschinodreamo for enabling this! You're amazing besties, I adore you and I needed your support, big forehead kisses! Comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶 My last few fics have been big flops so extra nervous!

You remember when he glided through the corridors of Harvard. How every party you went to and that you had a pit of dread in your stomach over as it could’ve been three hours devoted to rereading the assigned readings and going over your notes. He was there, always there, laughing with a giggling, intimate crowd and snorting powdered lines off any and every surface.

It gave you a bitter, metallic taste in your mouth. How easy it was for him, how even when he flew too close to the sun there were always a million doors open for him, you couldn’t help but feel envious of that.

When you needed to maintain a certain GPA for your scholarships, had to wear sweaters down to the last thread, keep up with the readings, the extracurriculars, any internships, anything and everything to get your foot in the door. It was miserable and intense.

While there was something alluring in how much of a window to his soul those brown eyes were, you didn’t have time to look in them long enough to see a world of emotional turmoil and toxic family dynamics.

He didn’t say much about his family, ever. And when he did, it was dismissive, deflective, perfectly media trained, he’d speak just like a politician he’d deflect the question and never satisfy the questioner. To the point that if you were in a bad mood, you’d wonder if even his pauses of ‘uh’ and ‘like’ were calculated.

There was a collection of the finest, custom-tailored suits with his killer initials monogrammed, just waiting for him to slip them on. You weren’t old money and you definitely weren’t new money, your academic and professional career had been a never ending fight just to get a seat at the table. You couldn’t stand it, you would bite your tongue whenever you became nauseated from being in a room too long that reeked of the nepotism cologne they all assaulted your senses with. It was a slap against your face.

If he wasn’t so entitled, when you first met him you might’ve swooned over him, you would’ve swooned over him. Without a doubt. It just wasn’t a fun thing to admit to yourself, not back then and not now.

You’d climbed a ladder, working hard, offering a polite but intelligent demeanour with a meticulous academic record and a work ethic that gave capitalism a boner. It had all led to a pretty sweet (enormously stressful) gig at Pierce Global Media. It made sense, you’d spend your college days side-eyeing him whenever he spoke or did anything at a party, racing a race he didn’t even know he was running in. Of course you’d end up working at his family’s competition. The politics of PGM also made it a lot easier to sleep at night, you could never imagine working at Waystar, ATN made you gag.

You had a nice wardrobe and the bank account to prove ‘success’, you might've been petty but you still felt resentment over him, even if the trajectory of his life wasn't so smooth. But you were too busy to keep track of the countless edits on his Wikipedia page. He probably had assistants continuously rectify them.

You didn't spare a thought to Kendall Roy or the suits walking in and out of country clubs. Except for when he was name dropped in PGM articles and broadcasts. That was all he was worth. It was all you’d allow him to be worth in your post-college, shiny grown up lives.

And of course at moments like right now, when you’re on the clock and have to smile through the torture of corporate events like the heavily photographed and stressful galas and award shows. Fundraisers that are an excuse for sealing secret deals, getting wasted and showing off who was able to get the finest threads.

Kendall was present of course, playing his usual role of the charming dancing monkey barely maintaining his father’s approval.

He stood across the room, wearing a dark suit, freshly shaven while holding a thin, fragile glass in his hand. Kendall smiled as he mingled and networked like the trained pup he was, it was his party trick after a lifetime of these endless events and shallow faces.

You went to bite your lip as you looked at him while a PGM comms employee spoke to you. It was only the thought of messing up your lipstick that stopped you.

Kendall Roy was hot though, despite everything you’d have to give him that at the least. Begrudgingly.

After going to the restroom and making sure you still looked perfectly presentable, you couldn’t help but still feel out of place at these events. No matter how much you climbed up the ladder, it was a severe case of imposter syndrome.

You’d come out of the restroom and almost bumped into Kendall. “Oh shit!” You said, gasping as you placed a hand on your chest.

He placed a hand on your arm to steady you, as if you were at risk of falling over. His touch burned you and it sent a shiver up your spine. “You okay?” He asked as his eyes raked over you, checking you were okay and then slowly taking in the view from head to toe. “Yeah, yeah, just gave me a fright. Sorry.” You respond, meeting his eyes as he looks back at your face.

His hand is still on your arm, you can feel the heat of it radiating through to the rest of your body, and it is doing something to the most sensitive parts of you.

You move slightly so that his hand falls down and he quickly returns it to his side and you pretend to adjust your dress as if you hadn’t been doing that two minutes ago in the bathroom. You try to avoid his eyes as you do this, you don’t want him to get the chance to see how that touch made you feel, the idea of it makes you feel sick to your stomach. “I didn’t expect to see you here, thought you’d be worried about some uh, kitchen cross-contamination.” He says as his eyes focus on your face. “I am, there’s a bottle of Purell in my purse and I have a bathtub filled with disinfectant waiting for me at home.” You quip back.

“Uh huh, so pick your poison? Buried alive or in a conversation with a scary billionaire.” He raises an eyebrow as a slightly smug smile starts to grace his handsome face.

“Buried alive.” You look into his eyes, and you almost want to melt with how he’s looking at you, as if he can read your mind and see everything. Giving you his full attention. ��Worms would be easier company.” Kendall’s head tips down for a moment and he nods while chuckling, it’s a dry sound and you fight the urge to pick at your nails as you watch him chuckle. “Sure, sure, sure. I mean you did say easier instead of like, better. So my ego’s not completely bruised.” He says with a smirk as he looks down at his shoes.

“I hear verbal punches aren’t doing it these days.” You say as you watch him, his gaze leaves the floor as it combs through you again, taking in your appearance appreciatively and a glint of something else burns in his eyes for a moment. “There’s other ways to impact an ego. I know you can do more than bruise it.” He says quietly in a low voice made just for your ears.

You almost freeze at that, you can feel it run through your whole body, shooting through your spine and the air you’d just inhaled feels trapped. Screaming for a way out. You exhale slowly, avoiding his gaze as your eyes latch onto a waiter and you politely stop him as you take a tall glass off of the platter he’s holding. The taste is a sensory respite from Kendall's existence and you focus on that as you take a sip and hold the glass for dear life.

“What? I drive you, speechless?” He teases as he watches you with a smirk, there’s a slight flush on his cheeks.

“I’d disagree.” You whisper looking back at him finally, feeling a little more composed despite your heart still beating faster than a rabbit.

“You’re not chatty for an old Harvard friend, never have been.” He says as if this observation is something new and fascinating.

“An old Harvard friend? My invitation to the boys club seemed to have been lost in the mail, quite a delay, you might want to change your postal provider.” You quickly retort and sip your drink.

“Have you always felt the need to be so…” He waves his hand slightly as if that’ll perfectly communicate whatever adjective he means. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Well I seem to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.”

“You don’t leave anything in my mouth, you’re not even an afterthought on a good day.” You say, he smiles and takes a sip from his glass.

“You’re breaking my heart here!” He says playfully, melodramatically and his smile grows into a wolfish grin. “Because there’s definitely an attraction here.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice goes up in exasperation at the audacity of the man standing in front of you. Sure he might be right, of course you’re attracted to him… How could you not be? When that suit perfectly fits his physique and he’s trying to disarm you with his stupid words and cocky smiles.

“Come on, it’s fucking uh, nuclear- it’s nuclear! All this energy and potentially more sustainable for- you catch my drift. I feel it, you feel it. And I’m the goddamn man and I can see that facade falling, crumbling away like ancient ruins for something better.” He says confidently and somewhat excitedly.

“I don’t feel it.” You lie.

He scoffs, chuckling and looks at you, he licks his lips for a moment and you almost let out a soft moan at the sight of that, barely able to suppress it and you want to scream at yourself. You’re crumbling.

“Sure, sure, can’t bed the big bad wolf on the screaming populist side, wouldn’t look clean cut, would it?” He asks and you just look at him, you try to keep your face steely and not show a glimpse of anything else. “Sure fine, I’ll fucking play ball, baby.”

“It’s corporate.” He says with a casual shrug as if that answers whatever conundrum he thinks you’re possibly in that you don’t want to enlighten him on. “So, come on, I’ll uh, strip down to my Waystar Royco ™ skivvies, show you a gilded skeleton in my closet and you can like uh, take me to the glue factory and show me a horse that’s been sold and how the horse gets melted, sausage gets made.” He tilts his head to look at you, a playful smile as he looks at your soft lips.

“There’s legislation- regulations against that now. I know it might be a new word for you but you should have your assistant look it up for you.” You say with a sigh and look down at your glass, avoiding the glint of an awkward charm in his eyes.

“I’m a good guy, I’m not 100% whatever the fuck you’ve painted me out to be, I don’t get a hard on out of systemic oppression.” He says casually as he looks at your face, analysing each blink, he must’ve stepped closer, you swear you can feel his breath against you as he speaks.

“It benefits you at the least.” You whisper.

“Yeah, it does. But I didn’t make the system.” He whispers back and you can’t help but bite the corner of your lip as the breath from his words tickles your cheek. “I made a very generous donation to gynaecological cancer last month.” He says playfully and you can’t help but scoff at that, he smiles widely at your scoff, pleased with your reaction.

“I’m aware, it was reported on, by PGM as well.” You tease and he smiles.

“I’m something of a philanthropist myself.” He chuckles proudly. “So?”

“So?” You ask looking at him, taking in the way he holds his glass, the arch of his dark eyebrows and every line on his face. “That’s your stage direction to start uh swooning and like fawning and fainting into my arms.”

“Do those lines work usually?” You ask with a tone of disbelief.

“I’m Kendall Roy, I don’t need lines.” He immediately quips back with a cocky tone.

“Doesn’t use lines, right… I didn’t realise Kendall Roy ever needed to beg.” You watch his finger trace the rim of the glass in his hand. There’s something about it, it entrances you and you feel your cheeks heat up like he’s just started a fire.

“Trust me, you’d know if I was begging.” He says as that signature slight smile turns into a confident smirk. “And we’re not there, yet.”

It feels dangerous and your muscles tense as you look at him, his dark eyes have a playful glint that sends a shiver up your spine. You feel your hand grip the glass much tighter, as if you’re moments away from cracking it.

“Come on, I’m a hot shot- in fact, the hot shot, and you’re uh, Botticelli’s Venus here-” he tilts his head down and waves his hand slightly. “Dressed to the nines and all.”

“Mm, going above and beyond, not just numbers and stock value, you know art too.”

“Oh yeah, I can uh name it all, namedrop beyond DaVinci, I can rattle off about uh, Mondrian with his little lines, you’ve probably got what? A Pollock in your apartment, to what? Feels a little spontaneous when you clock off? Classy and cute Hilma af Klint?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and sips his drink as his eyes bore into your soul.

You tilt your head to look at him, watching him as he sips from that flute. There’s cockiness there and under other circumstances, you’d be disappointed in yourself for how quickly that melts away any hesitancies you have. He knows what he’s doing and you know what you’re going to do. You’re both nocturnal moths, feeling alive and awake this evening, craving something more. Needing something more. Two moths drawn to the exact flame.

You’re in his penthouse, his stupid fancy penthouse that would make child you scream if you knew how much this place cost. You don’t care about that right now, right now you’re a pot on a stove simmering with years, years, worth of need for him and it’s about to overflow and spill.

As soon as you’re inside he pounces on you, he’s eager and his body is agile and he moves like a feline. Quickly pawing you to get what he needs. What you both need. You don’t bother to try and repress any of your noises and neither does he.

You put your hands up to his head to lightly scratch his scalp, he buries his head against your throat and groans out as you do and you feel his wet lips press hungrily against your throat. He sucks against your skin and you whine out as he keeps kissing, feeling your sensitive skin in his journey to not leave an inch of skin untouched.

Kendall guides you to the sofa as he does this, he does it with surprising ease as he keeps listening to the beautiful music of his wet kisses against you and your sweet moans. Kendall gently but firmly pushes you down onto the sofa and you let out a gasp as he does.

Once you're seated and sprawled out for him like a personal masterpiece, he pushes the hem of the skirt of your dress up to your hips, Kendall immediately drops to his knees in front of you, ready in position to worship you as you deserve. Kendall spreads your legs with a swift motion and groans as he positions himself, knelt down between your thighs. Ken breathes heavily and slowly, completely mesmerised and his heart beats louder than thunder in his ears. God, he needs this. God, he needs you. So fucking badly.

His hand touches your knee and runs up your thigh, his eyes are wide as he looks at your body reverently, lust sparks in his eyes. His thumb starts to brush against your inner thigh gently and you sharply inhale as you watch him.

“I know what you think and I… I get it,” he breathes out heavily as he looks up at you with lust-blown but genuine big, wide eyes and you feel your own breath become more shaky as you look down at him. “It wasn’t all fucking sunshine and lollipops and feeding fucking ducks bread in the park, you know?” He says looking up at you.

Fingers grip your thighs tighter at that bringing out a sharp gasp, fear over the implication of his confession even with how vague it is, the lack of explicit over the pressure, the verbal and emotional abuse he endured as a defenceless child while board members watched and said nothing. How all the adults he knew would either laugh awkwardly or go quiet, dismissive, when Roman was hit. How he watched it all, saw things even Shiv and Roman don’t remember. Things he can’t speak or begin to imagine saying.

“He’s this boogeyman legend, the GOAT of media but a fucking mythical ghoul in all of our rooms.” He whispers, desperate for some external validation, you nod and caress his hair slowly, taking in his words patiently as he speaks. “It was this psychological prison, each mansion, penthouse, five star emotional abuse, make fucking Gordon Ramsay cry, one that everyone wanted to walk into and not comprehend the uh, consequences.”

You just nod and listen, you’re not sure what to say, especially what to say to his words in this situation. But there’s a change in his eyes that he sees. He feels safe here, he feels safe and seen as he kneels and worships at the altar of his deity of beauty.

His fingers apply more pressure as he touches your thighs, he needs you, he knows in his brain and his heart that you’re what will make him feel better right now. Every muscle, organ and bone knows it, especially the one growing and hardening in his pants right now. The feeling of his fingers tickle and you watch him lazily, his touch feels good and there’s something about him doing it, the way he looks at you, like your some masterpiece that should be front and centre of the Louvre.

Kendall presses a kiss to your thigh, you let out a shaky breath you didn’t realise you were holding in as you feel his warm breath against your sensitive skin. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as he quickly runs a trail of kisses up your thigh before getting to your core.

He immediately presses his face against your core, your eyes widen as you feel him, you feel his mouth on you even with the fabric of your underwear creating a barrier between you two. It’s a new feeling as you feel him kiss and then lick your sweet pussy through your panties. They quickly become wet with his tongue frantically moving and your arousal leaking out.

A soft whimper leaves your mouth at the feeling, the friction and how good his mouth feels even with that barrier. He keeps moving at that frantic pace, his left hand grips your thigh, keeping it pinned to the couch and massaging the soft flesh while his other slowly snakes up your body so he can squeeze your breast and pull out another delicious whimper.

The sounds you’re making makes him harder and he groans against you, the vibration of that makes you throw your head back and whimper again. You need more. It’s so hot to have him in this way, to have him so desperate for you he’ll try to lap you up through your panties but you need to properly feel him. You try to buck your hips up to get him closer, you need him.

He continues and groans at that, he shakes his head against you and swirls his sweet tongue around and you cry out.

“I need- Ken, Ken! Please!” You cry out needily. “I can already taste how sweet you are through your soaked panties, baby.” He whispers as he pulls back slightly.

“Take them off…” You whisper as you look into his lust-blown eyes, they’re just as needy if not more than yours.

He immediately takes them off and you whine out as he does, his hands are quick and efficient. Before you can even blink Kendall has dived right back in, determined to taste you right from the source with nothing in his way.

Ken’s wanted this for so long, he’s needed it for so long.

Kendall doesn’t worry about trying to warm you up, it’s not even a thought that crosses his mind. His mouth runs along your folds, and before you know it he’s pressed his face to you even more and he starts to lap you up. His eyes roll back and he closes them, whining against you as he laps up your fluids and uses his tongue to send you to heaven.

His vibrations make you bite your lip and you buck your hips up again, one arm stretched out to the armrest of the sofa and you claw it mercilessly, just as he laps you up. Kendall then tilts his head slightly and groans, he lightly presses his nose against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you cry out, the loudest you ever have.

Your eyes widen and you look down at him as you moan loudly and he continues. He keeps licking you up and moving his nose against you. While you’re clawing the armrest, your back arches and you try to press yourself more into his touch needing more, it’s insanely and perfectly wanton. Moving your freehand into his short dark hair, you tug on it. You barely need to tug it to guide him as he moves perfectly and is giving you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt before.

Kendall continues, drowning in your juices and making sure not a single drop is wasted. He’s tasted it now and it’s amazing, life changing, how could he sit before you and waste a drop? He savours your scent and taste as tongue licks you and his nose keeps moving and applying the perfect amount of pressure to your now throbbing clitoris.

His movements are desperate and that of a starved man. You can see it, feel it and it’s what he is. He’s a starved man and you’re his perfect banquet. He continues, needing to make you orgasm. He’s drowning in you, his mouth and nose but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He takes a deep breath and his hand moves along your thigh, squeezing it and he grips your hip tightly.

You’re getting closer and closer just from that clitoral stimulation and he can tell, he moves his face up so he can look at you. See how pleasure is painted across your face, he moves so his tongue laps up at your clitoris, swirling around it and making you shake and moan. Fuck, you look so pretty he thinks and you can’t help but think how good he looks like this, down on his knees in front of you, with his tongue buried between your legs.

Kendall continues and you moan more. You’re not sure how long it’s been, he hasn’t been between your legs long enough, you know that for sure. You need him there longer but you know you’re just a flick of his tongue away from being pushed over the cliff and orgasming then and there. You tug on his hair and groan.

“Goddamnit, I’m so close…” You whine out and bite your lip as your cheeks heat up more and he smiles against you, caressing your thigh and he continues licking. After the shortest five seconds in the world you pant and your back arches as you release.

The taste is sweet and perfect, just as Kendall knew it would be. He groans against you, it turns him on so much. He continues to lap it up, just slower now, so he doesn’t overwhelm you too much and so he can savour each drop of your release.

You moan as he continues, he keeps his face buried between your legs for a moment, caressing your thighs and when he can tell your breathing has recovered a little. He dives right back in.

Making you come? That was something he needed to do. Only doing it once? That was pathetic. Kendall needed to hear those moans from you, to taste you, at least a few more times tonight. And that’s what he was going to do.

Before you can utter a word, Kendall has already started to lap you up again desperately. He had something to prove after all, he always had something to prove. And if he could pull the sweetest noises out of you, the prettiest thing he's seen, who had despised him since college, what couldn't he do? What more approval could he be denied when you gripped his hair and bucked your hips up desperately searching for more pressure from his tongue. He had made himself right at home in this position, how couldn’t he?

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from-the-clouds · 2 years ago

Text

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.”

#succession #succession writing #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy imagine #kendall roy smut #kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!

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solestixx · 7 months ago

Text

1- lukas matsson x reader

word count ≈ 6600

warning: smut and mid writing

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You call him daddy?”

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

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

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

“I kind of want to get drunk.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What a fucking prick.”

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Don’t contradict yourself now.”

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

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

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

“Were you trying to seduce Matsson for dad?”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s something psychologically wrong with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever, Roman.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Connor was your normal brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unknown

Know who I am yet?

1 Missed Call from Unknown

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

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

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

“Bambi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmmmm, a promise? I don’t remember.”

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

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

“See you soon then.”

____

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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saint-boudica · 5 days ago

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where are all the loser!reader fanfics!!!

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leviathanspain · 9 months ago

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you NEED to write more for Tom 😭😭😭 like I’ve been thinking so much about age-gap f!assistant tropes with Tom it’s actually insane, like Tom asking you nonchalantly to ride his thigh (or him) in his office 🌸🌸

skin tight

tom wambsgans x assistant!reader

synopsis: tom knows how to push your buttons perfectly, and you let him

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

tom wambsgans was a total asshole. he was arrogant, thought himself to be the hottest piece of ass to ever come out of ATN and you were stuck working for him, bringing him coffee just to never drink it, or to make you run all around the city looking for a bagel that didn't exist. it was an endless cycle, but you found him to be the most tolerable associate of the roy family, and decided that between him and kendall, being tom's assistant wasn't all that bad.

if you ignore the obvious sexual tension of course.

"here is that-" you didn't get to finish your sentence before tom waved you away. you sighed, rolling your eyes as you spun on your heel and stepped out of his office, tossing the scalding cup of coffee into the nearest bin before settling back down at your desk. that had been the third time today that tom had made you get things for him, just for him to send you and it away. normally you wouldn't let this behavior phase you, but it was starting to get to be too much.

there had been a break in your thoughts and you turned to glimpse into tom's office, and found him already looking at you. you gasped slightly in surprise and stood up, knowing that this had been no coincidence.

you kept your head bowed as you stepped inside the office. you could feel his eyes on you, feeling the irritation coming from his gaze. you swallowed thickly, "tom?" was all you could manage, unsure of what to say, especially to him.

"close the blinds," he spoke quietly, not whispered but a quiet, and serious tone. you did as he said, moving to first close the one directly facing your desk. you watched as the life of the ATN office was shut away by the white blinds. your hands shook slightly but you finished the rest. you turned around, silently waiting for him to speak.

he finally did speak, after a minute of unbearable silence.

"now come fuck yourself on my thigh." his words had left you speechless, but you weren't exactly opposed to not doing as he said. you stared at him for a moment and he shrugged, "clearly you've been angry with me. i am giving you an opportunity to release that anger." he spoke cooly, glancing over at his computer, as if this was like any other work conversation.

you waited, thinking.

"okay." you decided, and watched as tom looked up in mild surprise, as if he hadn't expected you to agree. how could you not? not when he's been subtly hitting on you since your employment. tom wambsgans was an asshole, and cheating on his wife had been nothing new at this point. nearly everyone in waystar royco had heard of shiv and tom's marital problems.

tom watched as you walked over to his desk. you were wearing a tight black pencil skirt, so tight that he could see your hip indentations. you leaned against his desk, his thigh next to you. "i need you to pull my skirt up. It's-" you didn't finish, his fingertips grazed your skin as he shucked your skirt up, seeing your lacy underwear peeking out. he looked at you and you remained unmoving, letting him proceed to remove your panties, gently pulling them and letting them slide down your legs.

he patted you to step out of them. you inhaled a breath as his finger ran once over your slick folds. your breath shook slightly but your thoughts were clouded by lust. all you could think about was how good your cunt will feel against his thigh.

tom didn't remove his pants. he was going to let you fuck yourself on his hundred dollar suit pants.

you hovered over him, and his hand found it's way to graze your cheek, brushing your hair back as you finally sat down on his leg, feeling the friction of the fabric against your cunt. you shivered, and tom's hand moved to your waist, gripping it.

you inhaled sharply as your hips began to move.

"i was doing it on purpose." he spoke, eyes glued to the sight of your pussy grinding down on his thigh. tom smirked, "watching you listen to my demands like it was the word of god.." he trailed off and you grunted, "shut up." you whispered weakly, too focused on the pleasure to defend yourself properly.

you knew tom saw you as nothing but his young female assistant, nothing other than someone to fuck. what you were currently doing did not help your image. in his eyes, you were weak, a plaything, a punching bag.

you moaned, unable to hold yourself up, you grabbed onto his shoulder to steady yourself. tom grunted softly, "mmhm, let me hear you baby." he whispered, hand brushing through your hair. it was slightly romantic, and it made you feel uneasy. romance was something that had to be avoided at all costs with tom wambsgans.

you panted, and gripped his shoulder tightly as you felt yourself getting close. he chuckled deeply. "you're so wet, you're seeping through." he loved it, he loved how good his thigh was making you feel. he could only imagine how you would look stuffed with his cock.

you shivered, moaning loudly as you came all over his thigh. tom gripped your waist, and he was smirking, watching as you fell against him. he was warm, the fabric of his suit felt nice against your cheek. even his hand had been rubbing your back.

you jolted up, and awkwardly leaned off. you stood up, deciding to struggle to get your skirt down as he looked at the mess you had made on his thigh. you were blushing red, hot and absolutely bothered. you stared at him, and at your crumpled panties that you had forgotten to slip back on. he followed your gaze and picked them up.

tom stuffed them into his pocket, and scooted back behind his desk. he began to work as if nothing happened and you remained planted, quiet and exhausted.

tom didn't glance at you, "you can go. and don't ever roll your eyes at me again." you began to walk away, "yes, sir."

asshole, you thought silently, letting his office door slam behind you as you walked past your desk, deciding to take the rest of the day off.

#tom wambsgans x reader #tom wambsgans smut #tom wambsgans angst #succession fanfic #succession hbo #succession #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans imagines #roman roy x reader #kendall roy x reader #lukas matsson x reader #greg hirsch x reader

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muntitled · 1 year ago

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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

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

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

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

I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.

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

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

You're appalled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not Kendall." He says.

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

"Why are you here?"

"Well it is my retreat."

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

"My house."

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

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

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

"Consider it delivered."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a dangerous individual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cooling, diabolical cum.

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

Rome. Come on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't need saving."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jesus- Lukas!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's far too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Every last one of them."

#lukas matsson fanfic #lukas matsson smut #lukas matsson x reader #succession fanfic #succession #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #kendall roy smut #lukas matsson #succession season four #succession spoilers #succession smut #lukas matsson x you #lukas matsson x black!reader #kendall roy x black!reader

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ashyyslashy · 10 months ago

Text

million dollar baby - kendall roy x f! reader

You go on a blind date with Kendall Roy circa his college graduation and learn the truth beneath his public front.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: language, drug use, sex while intoxicated, piv sex, discussions of infertility

You anxiously drummed your fingers on the back of the car seat in front of you. Bass music throbbed in your ears, barely drowning out the voice of your taxi driver blabbering to someone on the phone. You were used to overeager drivers pushing the speed limit, but this guy seemed to pride himself on going at least 5 under at all times. Worst of all, the heater in his car was broken, leaving you shivering within the fogged-up windows.

You kept glancing down at the “I’m outside” text on your BlackBerry, received a minute ago and counting. Unable to delay it any further, you typed out “I’m just a few blocks away”, and hit send. Several moments later, it buzzed with his response: “Don’t keep me waiting.”

As the taxi slowed towards the restaurant, you squinted out of the window to search for your date. Truth be told, you were wholly unsure what to expect of him. From what your friend Cecily had told you when she set the two of you up, Kendall Roy could either show up to a date wearing a tuxedo or a tracksuit.

You slipped the driver his fare and scrambled out of the backseat before the car had even fully stopped, hurriedly pulling your bunched-up dress down. You cautiously stepped onto the curb in your knee-high boots.

“I’m here,” you texted Kendall as you made your way towards the restaurant’s signage. A bustling crowd was gathered in front for dinner, obscuring your view of the entrance. Heat lamps burned outside with customers flocking around them as they warmed themselves.

You didn’t receive a reply. Your eyes scanning the area, you spied a lone figure standing away from the mass of bodies. He was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. A cloud of smoke billowed around him, his fingers holding a cigarette to his lips.

He matched the description your friend had provided: average height and a head of coiffed dark hair. As you approached him, his features became more evident, resembling the photo you’d seen. Your gaze flicked from his dark chocolate eyes to his angular nose, his long face bearing an expression absent of any emotion.

“You’re Kendall, right?”

His eyes narrowed, the end of his cigarette crackling.

“Yeah. Hey. You finally showed up.” His voice was deep and distinctly authoritative, speaking to you with all the air of someone at a business meeting.

“Sorry, the taxi was really slow.”

He nodded, taking one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it on the slush-covered cement. He ground it down with the heel of his dress shoe, his movements effortless and fluid.

“Shall we?” he asked, striding towards the entrance of the restaurant without waiting for a response. You were compelled to fall in step behind him - you guessed that a lot of people fell prey to the magnetic force that seemed to orbit him and his family.

He deftly maneuvered his way through the crowd and walked up to the hostess. She didn’t notice him at first, leaning over her coworker in conversation. He cleared his throat abruptly. Her head jerked up, and she blinked a few times in succession as she took in the sight of him and the way he’d forcefully inserted himself into the space.

“Sorry, sir. How can I help you?” she asked, her tone cool.

“Reservation for Roy,” he said in a confident, clear voice, fixing her with an intense stare.

“Alright, let me check that out for you. For 8:30?”

“Yeah. I know we’re a bit late,” he said, placing a pointed emphasis on the last word, “but I know you guys have a grace period. So, I’m hoping we can get seated ASAP.”

A look of brief irritation flashed across the hostess’ face as she picked up two menus. “No problem. Follow me.”

“Ladies first,” he directed towards you, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. You walked behind the hostess, feeling vulnerable to his eyes through the exposed skin on your backless dress.

The hostess guided you to a secluded area at the far corner of the dining room - whether he’d requested the privacy or she had opted to spare herself from Kendall being in her eye line, you were unsure. You thanked her, taking your seat across from your date.

“Can we start off with two Smirnoffs on the rocks?” Kendall asked.

“Oh, I don’t drink. I’ll have an iced tea,” you said quickly.

“One Smirnoff and an iced tea then.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as the hostess walked away.

“Have you, um, been here before?” you inquired, studying him over the top of your menu.

“Of course. I take all my dates here,” he replied in an indecipherable tone.

“Oh. Haha,” you deadpanned.

“No, seriously, I do.” He paused, before letting out a curt laugh at your disbelieving expression. “Come on. I’m fucking with you, you know that, right?”

“Hard to tell.” Your face burned.

“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times. Cool if I order for the both of us? I know which dishes are the best.”

“Yeah, sure.” You tried to hide the disbelief in your voice.

His eyes studied your face. “So, Cecily wasn't wrong. You’re very pretty.”

“Thank you,” you replied, your glossed lips curving into a hesitant smile.

“I hear you want to go into politics?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You know, starting out as an ATN anchor wouldn't be so bad,” he said. “I’m sure we could work something out. You know who I am, right?”

“Yup,” you said, forcefully popping the “p”. “Cecily told me all about you.”

Clearly not enough.

“Cool. Now that I’m out of college, I’m ready to start becoming more involved in Waystar.”

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the ego stroke.

You settled on: “Party days are finally behind you?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He flashed you his first grin of the night.

“Pardon my reach.” A voice appeared at your shoulder, leaning over you to place the drinks on the table, ice clinking in the glasses.

“Alright. What can I get for you two?” The waiter plastered a smile onto their face and pulled out their notepad.

You slid the iced tea towards yourself and took a long sip, tuning out Kendall’s voice as he recited your joint order to the waiter.

He focused his eyes on you once they’d left, searching your face once again. You weren’t sure what he was trying to find. You got the impression that he was inept at reading people when so much was centered around himself.

“Food should be good,” he said simply.

“Mm.” You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom when his phone rang.

He flipped open his Blackberry screen and squinted at the number. “Oh. I should take this. I’ll be right back.”

“No problem,” you said with a polite smile, trying to disguise your relief.

As soon as he was out of sight, you flipped out your own phone and furiously typed out a message.

“U didn’t tell me Kendall was the WORST. WTF?!?!”

Cecily’s reply came within the minute:

“No!!!! He is an acquired taste but I thought the 2 of u might click ):”

Your fingers raced to fire back: "He’s so entitled."

“Growing up rich will do that 2 u,” She wrote. “Seriously though, he has a good heart. Give him a chance, 4 me?”

“Ugh,” you murmured to yourself.

“Fine.”

You closed the phone in frustration and stuffed it into your purse, before noticing a pair of black loafers on the ground next to you.

You glanced up to meet Kendall’s eyes. He looked as if he didn't quite know how he’d gotten there. Suddenly so much smaller, his arms curled towards his chest and his phone hung limply from his hand. A lone figure amidst the clinking silverware and pleasant conversation.

“Um, hey..” He said, his voice shaky. His bottom lip was wavering almost imperceptibly. “I’m not really hungry anymore. Can, uh, can we just go back to my place?”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You shook the grease-soaked paper bag, the remainder of the fries rustling around inside. You balanced it on your lap as you sat gingerly on Kendall’s art deco sofa.

“Do you want any more?” you asked softly.

You were answered by the sound of snorting and sniffing from beside you. Then, a nasally: “Nah, I'm good.”

You tried to keep your eyes away from the lines of cocaine on his phone screen. The two of you had sat in silence on the car ride there, save for him asking your McDonald’s order. It had felt so strange to pull through the drive-thru in one of Logan Roy’s many limos, driven by a stuffy, well-dressed chauffeur.

Kendall still hadn’t spoken to you when you got to his apartment, descending upon bags of white powder he had stashed away. He’d wordlessly offered it to you, and when you vehemently shook your head no, he seemed to interpret that as an invitation to consume more for himself.

You chewed on the fries at the bottom of the bag, feeling like the eating noises were deafening. The apartment was eerily silent, punctuated only by snorting from Kendall’s end of the couch.

“Thanks, for, uh, being chill with this,” he said dumbly, pinching and wiping his nose. You felt relieved to see that all that was left on his phone was the white residue.

“With the… cocaine?”

“Just all of it, I guess. Sorry.” He turned his head to fix you with his penetrating gaze.

You guessed this was as close to an apology for his behavior as you were going to receive. Placing the bag on the table, you hesitantly scooted closer to him.

“Can I ask what happened on that phone call?”

His head snapped away from you again. “I don't really want to talk about that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He slumped back on the couch.

Your purse vibrated from a text. You dug through it for your phone, holding back a dazed laugh as you saw the text that flashed across the screen.

From Cecily: How’s it going??

You switched it to silent.

“Do you want to smoke a blunt?” Kendall blurted.

“Um, is that a good idea? After… You know.” You jerked your head towards the evidence on his phone.

“Yeah, why the fuck not?” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it.”

The next thing you knew, you were on his balcony, Kendall’s face illuminated by the skyscrapers and cars passing below. You shivered as the night air chilled you to the bone.

“Here,” he said, shrugging his jacket off and holding it out to you.

“Thanks.” Your joint crackling between your fingers, you moved it into the corner of your mouth. You draped Kendall’s jacket over your shoulders and were immediately greeted by the smell of Dior cologne and cigarette smoke.

“You smoke really sexy,” he said. “Like a James Bond love interest. Mysterious and hot.”

You burst into a mix between a laugh and cough, waving smoke out of your face. “You’re so high right now.”

“So? Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He inhaled deeply, then blew out a smoke ring. “You do this a lot?”

“Go on dates or smoke weed?” you questioned.

“Um, both, I guess.”

“I’ve only smoked a couple times. With friends. And I go on dates every few weeks or so.”

“All first dates?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Are most of them bad?”

“Kinda.”

He drew in a deep breath of smoke. “I hope ours doesn’t rank as the worst.” His eyes shined with the vulnerability you’d seen back at the restaurant. As if your opinion held significant weight to him, though you’d known him for less than an hour. As if he couldn't hear one more bad thing tonight.

“No, of course not. There was one guy who I think was, like, into eugenics?”

“What?” he laughed.

“Yeah. Like 20 minutes into the date, he said something like,” you deepen your voice, “Doctors say I have the best sperm they’ve ever seen. So I need a healthy wife who’s gonna bear me a shitload of children.”

He let out a curt laugh as a darkness suddenly settled over his expression. Bringing the joint to his mouth, he took another deep inhale.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at his shift in demeanor.

“No, no. I just fucking hate guys like that, you know? The way they treat women, like they aren't equals.” The inexplicable passion didn't reach his eyes, as if he was reciting a script.

“Oh. Yeah, fuck him.” You wrapped Kendall’s jacket more tightly around yourself, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.

“Do you want kids?” he asked after a few moments.

“Uh, I don’t know. Not at this stage of life. But later on, with the right person… maybe,” you replied, your voice nearly drowned out by a gust of wind on the balcony. “What about you?”

“Same,”’ he said tersely. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the joint was in his mouth again before he could. The smoke drifted away in the increasing wind. “You wanna go back inside? Getting pretty cold out here.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for taking your jacket.”

“Don’t be. It looks good on you.” He paused. “You should keep it.”

You laughed in disbelief, sliding it off of your shoulders. You caught a glance at the tag - Saint Laurent. “I’m not going to keep this, Kendall.”

You tried to toss it back to him, but he expertly moved out of the way. Your heart dropped as the jacket soared off the balcony and onto the street below. Scrambling to the railing, you watched helplessly as it was swallowed up by the headlights.

Your knuckles whitened around the railing and you could simultaneously feel the color draining out of your face. “Fuck. Kendall, I’m so sorry.”

He erupted into laughter behind you. “That was a pretty impressive throw.”

You swiveled around and stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly ajar as you imagined the thousands of dollars being flattened by cars below you. “Huh?”

“Hey,” he said, moving forward and placing his hands on your shoulders. “It’s cute how worried you are, but don't stress. I was going to give it to you anyway.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage.

“Come on, let’s just go inside.” He stubbed the blunt out on the railing and you copied his movements. His free hand found yours, cold and shaking, and steadied it as he interlocked your fingers.

You welcomed the warmth that greeted you upon stepping back inside his expansive apartment. You could feel a heady sensation wash over your body, a mix of the heat and marijuana putting you into a hazy state of relaxation. Like Kendall, you didn’t care about the jacket: you wanted to hold onto the comfort that he must come back to every night. You let go of his hand and flopped down onto his couch, flinging off your shoes and closing your eyes.

Cecily’s words appeared behind your eyelids: It’s not his fault he grew up rich.

You wondered if you’d be as much of an asshole as he’d been earlier tonight if you were used to being in a bubble where only your needs mattered. You’d probably laugh too if someone threw a $5,000 jacket over your balcony. His lifestyle was like a numbing agent, keeping him coddled and wanting for nothing. But it seemed like he was trying so hard to pretend that he was serious now that he’d come out of college, with his desire to become involved in Waystar - although you surmised he’d spent most of school in a cocaine-induced stupor.

Did it weigh on him that none of this was his? Or did it not matter where it came from, as long as it was his?

You opened your eyes and glanced over, his back facing you. Your eyes studied the curve of his spine through the fabric of his fitted white shirt. You registered the sound of a needle dropping onto a record, and the thump of hip-hop music filled the room.

“How vintage of you,” you teased.

“I took this player from my dad. He’d probably be pissed if he saw what I was listening to on it.” He turned to you, his eyes alight with supposed rebellion.

He moved closer until he was standing over you, his face a few inches above yours. You rolled over onto your side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, and realized you wanted to know how his lips would feel against yours. Before you could change your mind, you reached out to cup his face and brought it towards you, brushing your mouth against his. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth; he tasted unsurprisingly of cigarettes and vodka, the scent of his cologne again filling your nostrils.

He clambered on top of you, his pelvis digging into your hips. You smoothed your fingers over his shaggy hair, gelled strands falling into your face and lightly tickling your cheeks. The long, wavy locks felt so inherently boyish as you mussed them up, providing a stark contrast to his attire. You turned your attention to getting rid of that attire, working open the buttons on his pristine white shirt. His body was pale and lean, a light smattering of chest hair coarse underneath your fingertips.

You felt his fingers travel to the back of your dress, tugging on the zipper and sliding it off of your body. He murmured a compliment against your mouth as he ran his hands up your stomach to your breasts, gently squeezing the flesh.

“You want to move to the bedroom?” he asked softly.

“Mhmm.”

He hoisted you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Your lips were fixed to his neck the entire way there, leaving marks on the creamy, stubbled skin.

Kendall deposited you on his bed before going to undo his belt. You sunk into the plush mattress, intoxicated by his luxuries. Reveling in your high, you pulled your panties down, tracing circles on your clit as you watched him finish undressing. He studied you just as intently. Tugging his pants down revealed his hardening cock through the fabric of his Tom Ford boxers.

You dipped your fingers into your entrance in eager anticipation. He tossed his boxers to the side, allowing his cock to spring free, precum leaking from the tip.

“Come here,” you murmured, moving the decorative pillows out of the way with your free hand.

His arms were around you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands traveling across your naked body. You were hopelessly under the spell of Kendall Roy, dying for him to be inside you.

“Please,” you whined.

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

He tossed one of the pillows at you. “Use that to show me how much you want it.”

You were too far-gone to be irritated at this obvious power trip.

“Okay,” you sighed, obediently straddling the throw. You rubbed your bare pussy against the blue velvet, undoubtedly leaving a trail of slick as you ground into it.

He laid on his side in an emulation of Kate Winslet, pumping his cock as he watched you.

“Are you enjoying the show?” you asked, your question punctuated by a soft moan.

“Very much so.” He smirked. “You can stop now.” You ignored him, continuing to roll your hips against the pillow. He reached across the bed and pulled it out from under you.

“You’re no fun,” you complained, mourning the loss of friction.

“Wouldn’t you prefer me to the pillow?” He put his arms on either side of your torso, boxing you in. You stared up at his face; his expression was hungering for you and for something inaccessible at the same time. If you were sober, you might have stopped, asked him if he was okay. But your drug-addled brain only had one urge: the ubiquitous urge shared by a frat guy hoping to score.

“Yes,” you admitted breathily.

He responded by lightly teasing his cock against your folds. You let out a noise that was a mixture between frustration and lust. He coaxed your legs into the air, putting you into a spread-eagle position. His eyes locking with yours, he slid inside you with agonizing slowness.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to absorb as much of his body heat as possible as he thrusted into you. You were inches away from his dark, intense eyes, feeling so close to him yet so far away at the same time. You wanted to melt into one another so there was not even the tiniest amount of space between you - your flesh turning into jelly, mixing together with his dripping body into one inseparable mass. To share a hive mind, know the thoughts and emotions he was hiding beneath his well-groomed face, the desire behind each movement of his cock.

His thrusts were sloppy, wet, unfocused. His hands held your legs in place, allowing him to push into you ever deeper. You were intoxicated by the animalistic scent of his sweat as perspiration ran off his chest onto yours.

“I’m close,” he murmured, his thrusts increasing in speed.

“Wait, I’m not on birth control,” you protested, momentarily breaking out of your lustful daze. “Pull out first.”

“Don’t worry, I’m shooting blanks anyway.” He said it as casually as if he was telling you the weather, but he was unable to fully mask the fresh pain in his voice. Words faltered on your lips as shock washed over you.

“So can I just cum in you?” he pressed.

“Y-Yeah.”

He stilled, a grunt escaping his mouth as a feeling of sticky warmth filled you up. Cum dripped out of your pussy and onto his pristine sheets as he slid out. He flopped onto his side next to you, facing away.

You stood up and walked over to the room’s adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind you.

What the fuck? You mouthed at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed your hair and wiped away your smeared makeup, trying to remove all evidence of a tryst that had soured. You’d blame the weed and forget all your misplaced desperation and affection for a man who didn’t even have the decency to offer to help clean you up.

You sat down on his heated Toto toilet to empty everything out. When you stood up to flush, you found yourself at eye-level with Logan Roy. He wore a smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face, begrudgingly posing in a newspaper clipping from 1980 which marked the billionaire’s founding of Royco. A clipping that was, strangely, framed and affixed above the toilet in Kendall’s apartment.

You imagined Kendall standing in front of this toilet every day during his American Psycho morning routine, staring up at his father. Dad, am I good enough for you? Do I piss like a man? A slave to the judgment of his God. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

You scanned the expensive products littered haphazardly across the bathroom counter before lathering your hands in his Aesop soap. You envied the suds and water washing down the drain of the stone vessel sink, wishing you could disappear as easily. Checking your appearance in the mirror one more time, you unlocked the door and cautiously ventured back into the bedroom.

Kendall’s back was still facing you, his limbs splayed out awkwardly across the bed. He almost appeared to be shaking despite the warmth of the apartment.

“Um, do you want me to stay?” you asked quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured into the pillow. His voice was thick with tears.

Damn it.

You didn't owe him anything, but you still couldn't bear to leave him like this. Tentatively, you laid beside him, reaching for his hand. He crossed his fingers through yours. You flinched at the sensation of his clammy palm.

“The call I took at dinner, it was the sperm bank telling me my sample wasn't viable,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Your stomach plummeted to the floor. It was as if all the blanks of the night had been suddenly filled in. Every strange reaction, forlorn look, shifty glance. “I'm so sorry.”

He rolled over to face the ceiling. He stared at it for several moments as if trying to decipher something in the creases of the paint. “It was a stupid dare by my friend to donate it. He thought it'd be funny if Logan Roy had some nobody heir out there somewhere and he never knew.” He sniffled. “Anarchy and all that shit, right? Well, now he won’t have an heir at all. At least not from me.”

“There are other ways, Kendall,” you comforted.

“I know my family. None of them will be the right way.”

You snuck a glance at his red-rimmed eyes, feeling your pull towards his lifestyle fade into obscurity. In his world of excess, there was a constant demand for more, and he was never quite enough. Just laying beside him felt stifling. The massive bedroom was closing in on you.

You waited for him to say something else, but all you heard coming from his side of the bed was soft, steady breathing. You weren’t going to wait for him to regain consciousness. You were going to take this chance to leave, doubting that he’d ever contact you again and feeling guilty about not contacting him first.

You threw one last look at his crumpled form before leaving to collect your purse from the living room. You were left still slightly buzzed, consumed by the odd combination of human emotions that you surmised kept zoos in business: pity for the caged animal mixed with a sick, guilty fascination at the spectacle of it all. As you boarded the elevator down to the ground floor, you pulled your phone out and stared blankly at your chat with Cecily, wondering what the fuck you were going to tell her. Your head buried in your Blackberry, you almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to you as you pushed out of the revolving doors.

“Miss. Miss!” You whirled around to see the chauffeur from earlier waiting patiently by the limo, parked out front. “I’ll take you home.”

“Oh- are you sure?” You wondered how long he'd been waiting there.

“Yes,” he said tersely.

“Okay, thank you so much.” You clambered into the car, reciting the area of New York City where you lived. You were unsure whether you appreciated this gesture or felt like you were being shuttled away like just another hook-up. But you were just another hook-up, you reminded yourself. You were a blip on Kendall’s radar, a chance encounter, a rando he’d told too much. All you could do now was forget.

#kendall roy #succession #kendall roy fanfic #jeremy strong #waystar royco #kendall roy smut #smut #fanfic #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you

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starsandsugars · 1 year ago

Text

Burning Desire

PAIRINGS: shiv roy/f!reader

SUMMARY: you had hoped that working on a work assignment with shiv might make her open up to you. Instead it lead to you 'opening up' in an entirely different way. (NSFW • MINORS DNI)

TAGS: coworkers hooking up, degredation, praise, office crushes, cheating (if you squint)

NOTES: hi guys :) this is my first fic I'm posting on tumblr and my first piece of smut so please be nice and I hope y'all like it!

Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Shiv's hand press firmer against your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet even as she continued to pump her fingers into you at that ruthless pace. Each stroke of her fingertips hit that perfect spot inside you, drawing out animalistic sounds that were just barely concealed by her. Every little touch made you feel electric, every inch of your body practically vibrating from the pleasure.

As your head tilted back and knocked back against the door, you thank whatever God there was for putting you in this situation.

You had seen Shioban Roy countless times around the Waystar offices, normally in some meeting or getting into an argument with her siblings that half the staff had to witness.

You knew very little about her initially other than what was public knowledge. You had no reason to pay her any mind, but you always felt your eyes drawn to her anyway.

At first you reasoned it was because of the effortless way she commanded the room or the fact that, as Gerri's second in command, she was kind of your bosses boss but as your curiosity began to change shape it became harder and harder to deny.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from her if she walked by your desk, the simple twirl of her hips enough to take your breath away. When she leaned over her desk to talk to you, you just about lost your ability to think clearly. And the one time you saw her kiss her husband in the lobby it filled you with a feeling you refuse to admit even to yourself.

It was ridiculous, and beyond irresponsible.

For one, she was your boss. If that wasn't enough she was married - to the head of news at the company that you work for no less!

You did your best to convince yourself that it was just an office crush. She was a beautiful woman with a touch of power that turned you on more than you wanted to admit. That was surely all it was.

Or it least, that was all it had been, until you got assigned to work on an agreement that Shiv, as President of Operations was hwading. t really wasn't an overly complicated assignment, which is why Gerri handed it over to you, and you expected to be done with it in a couple of days.

As it turns out, that was far from the case. The other company refused to sign, and what could have been a couple meetings turned into long days and nights cooped up in Shiv's office hunched over paperwork.

Your silly crush hadn't gotten away, and had gotten even harder to manage. Now you were close enough to smell her expensive perfume, close enough to hear the edge her voice took when she was telling you to do something.

You tried to push it down, smother it, but the flame only grew brighter with each day you spent together.

Finally, after a million emails and a formally worded threat of litigation, the smaller tech company signed the contract and became a part of the growing monolith that was Waystar Royco.

You had never seen Shiv happier, practically beaming as she went immediately to gloat to her father. You took your things and disappeared back to your own office, expecting that would be the end of your Shiv Roy saga.

You were a little sad to see it end, but you're sure your vibrator will thank you for a break now that you won't have to constantly be so close to her so you prepare yourself to just move on.

You should have known things with her could never be that simple.

Just as you began to catch up with your other work you've been neglecting to help her she pops her head into your office.

"Come out with me to celebrate our win." She says without so much as a 'hello', "Drinks on me."

It wasn't a request so much as a command, but you found yourself agreeing anyway.

With that she turned on her heels, leaving you with a fluttering feeling in your stomach.

You were distracted the rest of the day wondering what she was up to. Did she really just want to celebrate? What was her game here? You knew the Roys well enough to know they never did anything without an agenda.

By the time she came to get you from your office at the end of the day you were all but convinced she was going to fire you. You went with her anyway, heart thumping in your chest as the two of you sat quietly in her private car.

She had her driver take you two to a high end bar that seemed to be pretending to be a dive bar. It was busy, with warm bodies and loud music everywhere. It could almost pass for a normal bar if it weren't for the suits all around and the fact that one of their drinks rang up for twice as much as your hourly wage.

She (thankfully) bought you your drink and turned to gave you fully once you had both settled into a leather booth.

It started off perfectly innocently, talking about you success with the deal and your future at Waystar. Your anxiety began to melt as you realized she really wasn't firing you. In fact, she seemed like she genuinely wanted to talk to you.

You talked your way through another 2 drinks each, both of you slowly opening up to each other. You told her about how much Gerri gets on your case and she tells you about her open relationship with Tom.

She drops it into the conversation casually but the way she blinks her eyes gives her away. She knows exactly what she's doing.

"I mean, I don't control what he does. Why would I let him control me?" She leans a little closer, and the finger tracing the rim of her drink turned into a heavy hand on your thigh.

Her voice lowers as she continues, sending shivers down your spine.

"I sleep with whoever I want. Whenever I want."

Your voice choked up a little as you responded, voice sticking in your throat from the sheer shock of it all.

"Yeah, me too." You manage, drawing a laugh from the redhead.

"Oh yeah?" She teases, eyes twinkling as she whispers into your ear.

"Why don't you come show me?"

Before you can even begin to think better of it her ingers splayed are across your back and she's guiding you to the back of the bar.

She opens a door knowingly and you realize she had planned this. If she had to have an angle, you were glad it was this one.

Once the two of you were inside she pressed you back against the door. The cold metal pulled a shiver from you, but the second her lips were on yours it's like every other sensation melted away. She kissed you like she wanted to consume you and you would be more than happy to let her.

As if reading your thoughts she bit your lip, pulling a little yelp out of her. She grinned and moved her lips against your neck as her hands slid up under your dress. You preened under her touch, breathy moans escaping you despite yourself.

It took only a moment for your panties to be tugged down your legs but she paused before actually touching you. You tired rolling your hips but all she did was brush your clit all too softly.

"Shiv, please." You begged, tapping into the want for submission she so clearly had in her normal life. The tendency clearly extends to sex because as soon as you give her what she wants she finally pushed her fingers into you.

She was clearly skilled with her fingers and she worked you up in no time. You moaned loudly, and she gripped your chin to warn you.

"Be. Quiet."

When you couldn't comply she shoved her hand over your mouth, gripping your cheeks to keep it in place. When you whimpered enough to be heard through her attempted gag she crowded you further against the wall.

"Shut up."

She spoke into your ear, equal parts threat and promise.

"Unless you want us to get caught. Maybe you'd like that. Maybe you want everyone to see what you let me do to you in this bathroom."

She strikes just the right spot inside of you and your thighs begin to quake, fingers clutching desperately to her shoulders. You know you should try to maintain some level of basic self respect but when she looks at you with those hungry eyes you just can't find it in yourself to care.

"God you're such a slut." She says, sounding pleasantly surprised. The words send sparks down your spine and you feel yourself tumble over the edge.

Your mind is hazy and your legs shake so badly she has to use her thigh to prop you up.

Once you had calmed down enough to do something that resembled normal breathing she let you go, smiling like she's just won some kind of contest.

"Good girl. I knew you had it in you." She says, and it's a struggle not to let the praise go straight to your head.

She starts to check her reflection in the mirror over the sink as you stay against the door, trying to make your brain work properly again.

Eventually you come to your senses enough to straighten up and try to appear half as nonchalant as she is.

You approach her, leaning against the sink as you watch her fix her hair.

"You're not going to let me return the favor?" You ask with a tone od faux innocence, trying to talk as if it were about a business deal instead of the most mind blowing orgasm of your life.

"Oh trust me, you're going to." She grins at you in the mirror. "But we're not doing this again in the bathroom. We're going back to my apartment."

She strides right out of the bathroom, knowing you were going to follow her without you having to say a word.

She's not wrong, and you chase after her before you even have the time to realize your panties are still discarded on the bathroom floor.

#shiv roy #shiv roy x reader #succesion #smut #succession smut #shiv roy smut #wlw smut #succession fic #tom wambsgans #kendall roy #roman roy

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year ago

Note

a whiskey with kendall roy with prompt r please<33

Magnetism.

r. exes.

warnings - smut. cursing.

haven't written for my kenny in a hot minute. enjoy him being a narcissist <3

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

"Tell me how much you hate me," he pants in your ear, hips snapping into yours. "Tell me I'm the worst person you've ever met."

You want to. You really, really do.

But you can't.

Not when his sweat is mixing with yours, dripping down your back. Not when his fingerprints are indented into your hips. Not when his tongue is licking up the expanse of your neck, tasting perfume and salt and history.

You're face down, ass up, pillows muffling your moans. He knows you love it like this, raw and fast and dirty.

"C'mon, honey," he rasps. "Thought you despised me. What was it that you said? I'm the scum of the fucking Earth?"

You had said that, the last time you were here. You'd thought maybe if you yelled, screamed, belittled him, you'd be less likely to come back again.

You were wrong.

"You called me manipulative, remember? You said I gaslit you. Lied to you."

You raise your head from the sheets, desperate for him to shut up.

"If you can talk this much shit, you're not fucking me good enough, Kendall."

He laughs, dark and menacing, before quickening his pace. You see stars, unable to catch your breath.

"This what you wanted? Huh?"

He smacks your ass with an open palm, chuckling when you whine at the impact.

"You're filthy, honey. My filthy fucking girl."

"Not yours," you choke out. "Never yours."

"That's not what your pussy is saying."

Traitor.

Without warning, you fly into your climax, knuckles fisting the sheets. Kendall groans from behind you before finding his release, both of you panting.

You lie next to each other for a minute, your frantic breaths the only sound to be heard.

"I can't keep doing this," you whisper, trying to sound tough. "It won't end well."

"You say that every time," he consoles. "When are you going to stop lying to yourself, baby?"

You scoff and sit up, grabbing at your clothes.

"Not today, that's for sure."

You leave without so much as a glance backwards. It's okay. Kendall knows he'll see you next week anyway.

#murphy's 3k celebration #kendall roy fic #kendall roy x oc #kendall roy smut #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader smut #kendall roy angst #kendall roy x reader fluff #kendall roy x reader angst #succession x reader smut #succession x reader #succession smut #succession imagine #kendall roy imagine #succession angst #succession fic #succession #jeremy strong

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succcession · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do some Roman Roy smut headcannons?

Roman Roy ♡ Smut Headcanons

Ah little Romey…We ALL know Roman is the type to catch feelings for someone after they’ve been friends for a while. Slowly increasing the amount of sexual jokes he makes towards them

One day he would call you one day while you were at work, joking about how hard his dick was. You would respond something like “Eww gross Rome, why are you telling me this?” and instantly hear him gulp on the other end

He was speechless, your harsh reaction turning him on. That's when he would really start to see you as more than a friend

You know that scene from Wolf of Wall Street, when Margot Robbie spreads her legs and puts her heel on his head to stop him from getting closer. That's the kind of thing Roman would fantasize about, eventually letting it slip out

So of course once you finally put the pieces together of his little kink, you had to take advantage…

He showed up at your apartment to find you in bed with your legs spread playing with your clit, you were shocked he actually tried to make a move. But when you stopped him and instead told him he could only watch, he was hooked. Now he had to have you

He's had so much in his life handed to him, he liked that you made him work for you

Things would start with mutual masturbation, he loved watching you touch yourself while he jerked off. Teasing him the whole time “Are you going to cum for me already? God so needy for my pussy”

Obviously this boy wants you to degrade him pretty intensely. He doesn’t know why he likes it but when you make him get on his knees for you, and taunt him about how he can’t fuck you, his pants instantly get tighter

Would try to fix any fights, arguments or even little disagreements with sex.

“Will you just sit on my fucking face!” Wants you grinding down on him while you pull his hair, moving his head where you want him. Suffocate him a little…

But I think he would also loveeeee if you were really gentle with him. Calling him a “good boy” and holding his head stroking his hair while he sucks your nipples eeeee

Okayy I think Roman would be super anxious at the thought of accidentally cumming in you and getting you pregnant. Usually pulling out to cum all over your stomach or face

But one day while he was fucking you harder then usual you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your legs around him, trapping him in deeper. Instantly he would be whining into your ear, repeating “fuck” under his breath as he came harder then ever

From that moment he would be obsessed with cumming inside you. Still terrified, but it was that thrill that turned him. Especially when it felt like you almost made him do it. By wrapping your legs around him, or not stopping when you're riding him

I think you could get some gooood praise out of Roman while teasing him

You had been straddling his waist, grinding your wet fold along his dick, stopping every time he got close. Eventually he would be panting “Please let me have your pussy, ugh need to be inside of you” and “You’re so good to me, I love you, I love you”

Don't think he would be a fan of wanting to take baths or showers together however, would want to watch you take a bath. Sometimes making it sexual, jerking off while he watches you lather soap everywhere. But most of the time just wanted to vent and ramble to you about whatever’s on his mind

Hes soooooo 😡 i love him

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

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chaithetics · 1 month ago

Text

To Sit in Hell with You

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do know. It was definitely three.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lovingly tagging: @waystarkia @maraschinodreamo @hunzzzzz

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beegomess · 19 days ago

Text

Just ride || Kendall Roy

Summary: After a long time away, you return to New York for work, leaving Kendall's life slightly more hectic and some people not so happy. Warnings: some swear words. - word count: 4.1k

Since his youth, his life inevitably crossed with Kendall's. Bound by a friendship between powerful families, you grew up together as a kind of improbable duo, united both by the influence of your parents and by a natural affinity. Daughter of Frank, one of Logan's advisors, you lived in the Roy circle from an early age, and time has consolidated this closeness. In college, you and Kendall were inseparable, and over the years, Stewy joined the circle, forming a trio of heirs willing to live intensely, as if each night could be the last.

Your college adventures were commented as stories of excesses and privileges, and the weight of surnames attracted spotlight and media speculation. There were not a few times when chaotic parties and summers on family yachts became headlines, generating theories about the "boss's children" and, especially, about the supposed relationship between you and Kendall - a rumor that never completely dissipated. You kept a bond so close that the line between friendship and romance seemed invisible. He remembered when, at any party, Stewy came up with cocaine and suggested that you try it. It was Kendall's first time and yours too, and the night got even more blurred when you ended up together in bed.

That should have been a unique episode, but the fact is that it was repeated a few times over the years. It was a connection that both understood, an intimacy that went beyond any label. You spent holidays with the Roys, something usually reserved only for wives and brides, and Logan approved you unconditionally, considering you an ideal choice for Kendall - after all, you had all the attributes of a true ally.

The familiarity with the Roy family brought you closer to Kendall's brothers. Roman, when he was still a pre-teen, had a kind of crush on you, something you thought was funny, but that Kendall seemed to disapprove whenever her brother insinuated something. Shiv, on the other hand, liked your company as an older sister, saying that, with you, she didn't have to worry about deciphering intentions.

For your families and the media, you and Kendall dated for a while, but the truth was more complicated. You liked each other, sex was great, but a formal commitment always seemed like a step further. Maybe it was fear of ruining the friendship, or maybe both were too young for something so serious. After college, your paths separated: Kendall was sent to Shanghai, while you went to London, where you settled in the same profession as your father.

The friendship, however, resisted the distance. You were present in every new chapter of his life: the beginning of the relationship with Rava, the increase in cocaine use, the arrival of the children and even Rava's requests for help to accompany him in the most complicated moments. Somehow, Kendall always found a way to bring her back into her life.

But now it was different. While Kendall returned from Shanghai just a year later, you remained in London, perfecting your work and preparing to one day replace your father in New York, if necessary. That moment finally seemed close. Your return, however, would be more than a seasonal visit; this time, you would be moving to live in your own apartment and work directly in the city.

For Kendall, his return to New York carries something more. An unspoken, almost secret expectation that, this time, you can fill the spaces you have always left open. And even if he doesn't say, you recognize that look - the kind of expression that only reveals itself to someone who has always been there.

Your return to New York didn't just mean a professional opportunity - it also brought the promise, or perhaps the uncertainty, of what could finally be defined between you and Kendall.

____________________________

It wasn't just Kendall who seemed eager for his arrival - others around him also seemed to notice the return. Emma, his new assistant, a young woman recently graduated and with a promising talent, showed interest, albeit in a subtle, almost imperceptible way. She observed every detail of the imminent return, sometimes questioning the importance of the event, but without admitting the impact it had on her.

Emma remembered the night she made the slip with Kendall, a situation she tried to forget, but that was often repeated in her mind. In a moment of exhaustion and overload, after weeks of working side by side, the professional barrier between them had broken. It was not planned; they flirted, exchanged glances frequently, and that night, alone, one thing led to another. The tension turned into something that, the next morning, resulted in embarrassment.

Kendall had made it clear that it wouldn't happen again. Guilt and regret weighed on him, and she knew that his decision had less to do with what happened and more with the fact that, to Kendall, she seemed too young to understand him in other ways. But Emma, even trying, couldn't forget that.

Almost a year ago at Waystar, Emma had gotten used to the looks and provocations in the workplace, especially those of Roman, who loved to mock Kendall in every possible way. She still remembered a specific afternoon when he, with that malicious air, showed Kendall a picture of her on her cell phone and said: "Damn, she looks even hotter now." Kendall gave her brother a cold look, ignoring the comment, but Emma couldn't avoid the chill she felt. A slight feeling of discomfort mixed with the growing fear that she was, in fact, in love with her own boss worried her.

The preparations for his arrival only increased this insecurity. When Jess asked Emma to get reservations at the best restaurants for Kendall to take you, she convinced herself that you were just another business woman. But, little by little, this hypothesis was undone. Emma found herself searching her name on Google, and, in a few clicks, she understood that the story was much deeper. His face appeared in several old photos, stamping covers of gossip magazines and columns about the life of the rich and powerful. Still, Emma thought it could be just speculation - until she found an iconic image: you, on Kendall's lap, laughing while he held her, on a speedboat in the middle of the Mediterranean.

It wasn't an ordinary pose for simple friends.

The list of ex-boyfriends that appeared in the stories also surprised her. You had few relationships, but all the men were children of magnates. It was almost as if her ex-boyfriends could represent the GDP of a developing country. Every detail seemed more unbelievable than the previous one.

Emma's insecurity only intensified the next day, when she saw her getting off the helicopter in Waystar's own building. Kendall and Frank were waiting for her ahead, while she and Jess positioned themselves a few steps behind. The slight smile on his face illuminated the scene, and soon, when removing his sunglasses, it was evident that his young appearance showed no signs of the time he had passed. For Emma, it was as if you had stopped in time.

Frank hugged her with pride and affection, a longing that only a loving father could transmit. Emma noticed how Kendall watched it with admiration, but also with a slight sting of envy. As soon as you let go of his arms, you turned to Kendall, and a familiar smile opened on your face, full of nostalgia.

- Finally! New York is not the same without you. - Kendall commented, with a genuine smile as she hugged you.

Emma paid attention, observing the gentle way you exchanged smiles, unable to avoid the tightness in the heart. The connection between you was undeniable.

Soon, cars were called for the dinner trip that Frank had prepared especially for his reception. Although it was a surprise, you seemed really enchanted, typical of a father like Frank, proud of the woman you had become, eager to see how you would do among the bigwigs of New York.

Frank's penthouse was great, with a stunning view of the illuminated city. There were many important people there, and Emma began to question why she had never heard of you before, since it seemed so essential. Even Logan was present, something rare, considering the latest events in the family.

Dinner began with Frank making a brief and emotional toast.

- It's wonderful to have my little girl back. Now, as a woman I'm immensely proud to see. - he said, his gaze full of love and approval.

As the night progressed, you reunited with Roman, Shiv, Tom and Kendall. Emma watched the interactions from afar, realizing how undeniable the chemistry between you was. You laughed together, but Emma noticed that Tom, as always, seemed a little out of place, as if trying to fit in, but couldn't completely.

At one point, the brothers began to disperse, leaving only you and Kendall alone for a few seconds, until Logan approached, accompanied by Marcia.

- We're already leaving, but I want to say I'm glad you're back. - Logan said, and you greeted him with a gentle look.

- Thank you very much, it's really good to be back. - you replied, and Marcia offered you a soft smile just before they moved away.

Emma watched you move away, following you with her eyes. Sometimes, you noticed Emma's looks, but she always looked away when you stared.

Outside, the view of the city was stunning, but Emma couldn't hear what you were saying. However, through the huge glass, she saw how you interacted intimately, sharing a cigarette and looking very comfortable close to each other, a constant smile on your faces.

- So, how was it to stay in London for so long? - Kendall asked, breaking the silence while the gentle wind swayed your hair.

- I ended up getting used to the bad food and the tea with milk. - You gave a chuckle, a malicious glow in your eyes. - How have you been? Are the children okay?

Kendall sighed, looking more serious when speaking. - Well, things have been complicated. Rava and I... we're not exactly on the same page. And as for Sophie and Iverson, it's a constant fight. I feel like I'm always trying to be a good father, but sometimes, it seems like I can't please anyone.

You listened carefully, feeling the weight in your words.

- One day they will realize that you are a good father... in your own chaotic way of being. - Kendall laughed, but there was something grateful in the smile.

- Yeah, I hope so...

A brief silence followed, before you broke it with a provocative tone.

- Speaking of complications, I have to ask... are you dating your assistant?

Kendall was in shock, widening her eyes.

- What?! Where did you get that from?

- Oh, Ken, she didn't take her eyes off you all night. I'm not judging, but you know how it is... That would be a scandal. - you said, provocative, with a malicious smile.

He was completely unresponsive for a second, and you laughed.

- Oh, well... yes, I mean... - he started to get in the way, and you laughed incredulously.

- For God's sake, Ken, I was joking, but fuck... You gave yourself up now. - a smile still danced on your face.

Kendall, slightly embarrassed, but still laughing, decided to explain himself. - Let's say there was one night... a silly mistake. I was exhausted and it was totally stupid.

- Well, maybe things didn't end that night for her. - you observed, still with a slight smile, having fun with the situation.

- I'll make sure of that at some point. - he concluded, a smile playing on his lips while changing the subject, both getting lost in the conversation that involved them, oblivious to the world around them.

You remained side by side, silent for a few moments, watching the brightness of the city lights. The light conversation seemed to have disarmed something between you, leaving only the quiet presence and mutual understanding.

Kendall swallowed the cigarette, her gaze lost on the horizon line, and released the smoke slowly, as if pondering something she couldn't or maybe didn't want to say out loud. Then, he laughed softly, shaking his head.

- You've always known... taking the weight off things. As if, I don't know, the world wasn't as complicated as I make it seem.

- Well, it's just that things don't have to be... so intense. - you replied, with a half smile. - But, to be fair, I also missed the chaos.

He let out a low laugh, a little incredulous.

- I think it was always that between us, right? You show up and, suddenly, everything becomes... easier. Even if I try to fuck everything.

- Yeah, you have a gift for these things. - You smiled.

That was a truth that both understood effortlessly, a complicity that had resisted time and distance, surviving the ups and downs of the years in which they were separated.

While you exchanged, you watched the lights of the city ahead, the night wind brought a feeling of nostalgia, as if old memories were present in the air. Kendall, hesitant, looked away to the horizon before speaking, as if he was on the verge of a confession that even he knew how to express.

- We really got along well before, didn't we? - He commented, his gaze lost, almost distant. - I mean... Maybe things would have been different... if I hadn't agreed to go to China.

You gave an amused smile, although you understood the sting of melancholy behind his speech.

- And what would you do, Ken? Say "no" to Logan Roy? - The provocation came with a touch of humor, enough to break the weight of the moment a little. He laughed, a laugh that seemed sincere, but with a bitter background. - I love my father, but I would also have packed for China without looking back if he had. That's what we knew how to do: say "yes".

Kendall let out a light laugh, almost a relief. That was the kind of understanding that only you shared, an ironic and resigned familiarity.

- But, seriously, we'd better go back before he thinks I disappeared from the reception event itself. - You indicated the direction of the party with a look.

He nodded, taking one last drag on the cigarette before throwing it away, and followed you back to the hall. The atmosphere between you still had a touch of lightness, but there was a discreet tension - a tacit understanding that, although the past could not be changed, there, at that moment, you were exactly where you should be.

____________________________

The office was already in an uproar for your arrival, and you hadn't even stepped there yet. In a way, it was like relearning the city: the details of a New York that kept secrets and expectations.

The reception at his father's house had ended in an almost inevitable way: Kendall in his bed, waking up next to him. You were as messy as the sheets around, and when you noticed the time, it was a silent rush to get ready in time for your first day. Your relationship was, in fact, peculiar. It was not news that something happened between you when you approached, but now, it seemed different, as if something unsaid, but strongly felt, hovered.

For Emma, this night did not go unnoticed. She saw signs of this throughout the reception, every exchange of glances, every detail that denounced the intimacy you shared. And now, as he climbed the elevator of his building, he felt a mixture of curiosity and restlessness. Jess had asked her to take a suit that Kendall had requested, something she would normally do without hesitation, but which today brought a new weight. Holding the carefully folded suit, Emma watched the floors go up while trying to organize her own thoughts. It was becoming pathetic, she thought, this painful fascination that made her follow trivial orders with such zeal.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Emma was greeted by an impressive sight. The apartment exuded sophistication and an almost oppressive luxury, with each piece of decoration handpicked. The walls displayed works of abstract art, and the soft lighting left the environment immersed in an atmosphere that was both elegant and intimidating. The silence there was absolute; no one seemed to have noticed his arrival.

Hesitantly, Emma called a shy "hello", but got no answer. He then decided to advance through the corridor, passing through spacious rooms: a huge TV room, a library, until he slowed down even more when he saw the ajar door of a room, from which sounds of water and movements came out. She discreetly peeked through the slit and saw, reflected in a large mirror, the messy bed.

The perception of what had happened there became clearer, and she felt something hard form in her chest. Soon, your gaze found you, wrapped in a black robe, adjusting an earring while talking on the phone in hands-free.

On the other side of the line, Frank's voice was slightly impatient:

- Why the hell doesn't he answer? I've been calling for almost an hour.

You answered naturally, but with that diplomatic touch that Emma only saw in well-rehearsed conversations.

- He must already be on his way, dad. You know how Kendall is... - you said, almost like someone trying to soften an evident problem.

Frank let out a sigh and, with an implicit smile in his voice, replied:

- Honey, let's skip this part where you try to convince me that he's not there, right? Just ask him to call me back.

You laughed, ending the conversation with a simple "Okay." She hung up and, when she turned around, was surprised by Kendall, who appeared from the bathroom door with a towel attached to her waist and her hair still wet. He approached you, a light smile and a quick kiss, his hands firm on his waist, and Emma looked away, the discomfort growing when she realized the naturalness with which you exchanged these intimacies.

- What did Frank want? - Kendall asked.

- Talk to you. - he replied, with a smile that seemed to keep a world of intentions.

As she moved away to get some clothes from the closet and Kendall returned to the bathroom, Emma decided to break the silence with a hesitant touch on the door. You looked up, noticing your presence. You smiled in an understanding way, without losing control of the situation.

- Oh, hello. Sorry to enter like this, it's just that no one answered... - she said, her voice trembling.

- No problem. I'm just alone for now; the servants start in the afternoon - you replied with a casual nod.

Kendall, from inside the bathroom, asks carelessly:

- Have my clothes arrived?

You said yes and took the suit, handing it to him while Emma, still in the embarrassment of the moment, said goodbye.

- Well, I think I'm going...

- No. - you interrupted her with a slight smile. - You can wait in the living room. The traffic must already be horrible at this time and calling another car would take forever.

Emma agreed and withdrew, but the brief exchange she had witnessed remained alive in her mind. She returned to the living room, sinking into the sofa and reflecting on what it meant, the discomfort and the feeling of exclusion that took over her. I was being forced to confront something I preferred not to see: the reality that, for you and Kendall, this was an intimate routine and totally alien to any spectator.

After a few minutes, you and Kendall emerged from the hallway, dressed for work. He looked impeccable, while you were still fixing the blazer, ending a comment that Emma couldn't hear.

- Do you catch something on the way? - you asked him with a casual lightness, as if it were something they had been doing for years. - I promised to have breakfast with my mother today.

Emma got up, observing how tidy and tuned you were in every detail.

- Oh, of course. - Kendall replied, then turned to Emma, signaling her to follow him. - See you at the office?

- Of course, I wouldn't miss my first day. - you answered with a calm smile, letting them go to the elevator.

In the elevator, the silence weighed. Kendall kept her expression relaxed, but Emma, restless, tried to ignore the tension she felt. In a casual tone, he broke the silence:

- Why couldn't Jess come?

Emma answered almost dryly:

- She asked me to help because the weather was tight.

He doesn't answer, turning his gaze to the panel, apparently oblivious to what was going on inside it. The route to the office was equally uncomfortable, a reminder of his own condition in that scenario. She felt displaced, torn between the professional obligation and the uncomfortable pain that the truth brought.

When they arrived, you quickly settled in, greeting your colleagues formally and safely, while Emma watched from a distance. It was as if you had left everything that happened behind, impeccable in your posture, and this only served to intensify the discomfort she felt. At the end of the meeting, Emma felt the weight of reality: that relationship was a mystery that would inevitably leave her out. For you and Kendall, it was clear that this was part of something bigger that she would never be able to understand, a secret shared between the two of you and inaccessible to any viewer.

Emma watched from afar, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and discomfort when she saw you two interacting through the glass wall. Kendall called you to his room right after the meeting, and when you came in, he smiled in that convinced way that only he could.

- So, what did you think of your first day? - He asked, as if he were being magnanimous.

You laughed and replied with a sharp look.

- Don't treat me like an intern, Ken. I used to do much more complicated things in London, you know?

He raised his hands, surrendering.

- Okay, okay, fair.

- But then, what do you want? - You went straight to the point, bluntly.

Kendall hesitated, a little disconcerted, but soon amended:

- I wanted to know what you will be free today.

You arched an eyebrow, an ironic smile appearing.

- You know, you really should stop asking your subordinates to go out. - he replied, with a pang of humor.

He laughed, but insisted, his voice a little more serious:

- Oh, what is it? I'm serious.

- I already have another appointment. - His voice is casual, almost indifferent.

Kendall raises her eyebrows, clearly taken by surprise. - Another appointment?

You smile, having fun with his reaction. - What's up? I also have my contacts.

He lets out a short laugh, incredulously. - Oh, is it? So tell me... who are you going out with?

- And why so much curiosity? - you reply, the provocative tone. His eyes capture his expression, which tries to disguise his attention.

He shrugs his shoulders, pretending disinterest, but the look betrays a hint of anxiety. - It's not curiosity, just... I don't know.

You stare at him for an more moment, letting the suspense hover, until you get up with a victorious smile. - Relax, Ken. It's just Shiv.

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but you notice the relief that softens your features for a moment.

- Girls' night? - He forces a smile, as if he didn't care. But his gaze remains attentive.

- Exactly. - you answer, amused, starting to leave, but he interrupts you with a casual suggestion.

- Well... - he says, his fingers drumming on the table - you could stop by at home after the "girls' night".

You turn around, holding back your laughter. - Oh, of course! I'll ask Shiv to give me a ride straight there.

Kendall laughs, but the answer disconcerts him a little. He gives a half smile, trying to maintain the pose, but the eyes still follow you to the door, a restlessness not so well hidden behind that carefree charm.

Without looking back, you leave with a half smile, leaving Kendall standing there, alone, watching the empty space where you were seconds ago. The casual answer, almost disinterested, echoes in the room, leaving a slight shadow between you. As much as he tried to hide, there was a restlessness in his eyes, an uncomfortable silence that he knew how to interpret - but would choose to ignore it.

Outside, you feel the weight of Kendall's gaze, even without seeing it. He has always been like this: wrapped in doubts that he would never assume, caught between the desire to have you around and the fear of getting lost in this proximity.

And you, although you didn't say anything, you also knew what that game meant. Every word between you was like a moving piece on the board, a dance calculated between distance and desire, mystery and revelation.

Emma watched everything from afar, with a discomfort that she herself could not explain. There was something powerful and, at the same time, dangerous in the silence between you and Kendall, something she could never fully understand. For her, it was like peeking through a blurry glass, a secret that seemed simple, but that hid too many layers to be unraveled.

A/N: Okay, I know this is different from what I usually post, but I let my mind wander through this story and ended up liking it. I hope you like it!! 🫶🏼

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scarletttries · 1 year ago

Text

Kendall Roy x Neighbour! Reader Headcanons

Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, Dark!Kendall obsessive vibes, dub-con, reader discretion advised :)

Request: "Hi Scarlett! I was wondering if you could write a scenario when you just moved in Kendall's apartment and became a neighbor and he is obsessed with u emotionally and sexually??🥵🥵

Author’s Note: Thank you for this intense request, it was a lot of fun to write some dark Kendall as we all know this man would be capable of ANYTHING. Please don't read if you might feel upset by dark/obsessive/coercive themes :)

Dark! Kendall Roy x Neighbour!Reader Headcanons:

- Kendall Roy had lived in his building as long as he could remember, but he was sure he'd never met any of his neighbours, let alone learned their names. Maybe it was his weird hours of operation, maybe his security usually kept him from chance encounters, or maybe none of them ever seemed noteworthy enough to remember. Before you.

- He's not sure exactly how the stars aligned perfectly enough for him to end up bumping into you the day you moved into the one rent-controlled apartment in his building (he'd always found that surprisingly progressive for the otherwise snooty building, sure it must be to exploit a tax loophole), but from the moment he saw you carrying a box and directing delivery people with carefully wrapped up furniture, he knew he had to have you.

- He'd heard the commotion from the stairwell after returning home one day, curiously following the noise to see which rich, old, white man he'd be living across an expansive hall from now, surprised to find young, beautiful you. The picture of innocence, drawing him in with your magnetic energy until he clears his throat, making you jump and sending a dark shiver down his spine at the reaction. He watches you smile so so brightly as you crouch to the floor, setting down the boxes in your arms before springing back to your feet to shake his hand, but not before Kendall can enjoy the opportunity to stare down at you from above, sure he'd have you in this position again, if it was the last thing he did.

- All night your simple conversation would rattle through his mind, the way you repeated his name after he said, politely pretending you don't know exactly who he is, his name on your tongue sounding sweeter than it ever has before. It leaves him wondering how sweet your tongue would be on him in any other circumstances, and before he fully realises what he's doing his hand has slipped into his shorts and he's picturing you back on your knees, choking around him.

- Ever the gracious neighbour Kendall would send you an elaborate basket of expensive gifts to welcome you to the building. There'd be innocent things like designer home fragrances and fine imported coffee, but Kendall being Kendall, there'd also be chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and spa-quality cocoa butter massage oil. Everything he'd need to make you feel right at home for the night. When you appear at his door to thank him, almost bouncing for joy as you gush about his generosity, he's so sure he can smell a trace of cocoa butter, picturing you rubbing it all over yourself and thinking only of him.

- His infatuation with you only gets worse when his sexual desires become more emotionally founded: One night you'll knock on his door, later than a normal neighbourly conversation and Kendall will think you've finally come to return his primal feelings. As he flings the door open you look almost apologetic - you saw a headline about Waystar offices being under investigation and you wanted to check that he was feeling okay. It's a simple enough gesture, but it's one that cuts right to the core of Kendall, who so rarely has anyone check in and ask him how he's doing. And here you are, his perfect neighbour, cooing sweetly as you tell him it's going to be okay, and gently squeezing his hand, the embodiment of kindness and empathy, the antithesis of his family. And he knows you must be his and his alone, that he needs this from you every moment, of every day.

- After that night his obsession starts to get worse, barely able to make it through the night without a barrage of sweet, sensual dreams playing over and over in his mind of exactly what you'd do to take care of every part of him. He can't bear the thought of you with anyone else, installing a doorbell camera so he can keep an eye on your routine, making sure you don't bring home anyone that might get in his way. He learns your comings and goings so he can bump into you at his favourite times, usually on your way back from the gym, drinking in the way your exposed skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat, sure he could give you just as good of a workout if you let him. Sometimes he'll arrive home just in time to help you carry groceries inside, peering inside your bags to find out a little more about what you like, and thinking about a world where he gets to be the person you make homemade meals for.

- He finds himself obsessing over how to take the next step with you, how to secure you as his, sexually and emotionally. He thinks about sending more gifts, this time a lingerie set and a vibrator for when you want to think of him alone at night. Sometimes he thinks about trying to install a camera in your apartment when he knows you're home, waiting for a glimpse of you touching yourself and knocking on the door to give you a hand. In the end he goes for something a little bit more subtle, just hoping all the dominoes will fall into place.

- The wait for the perfect moment is agonising though, and some nights Kendall can't help but picture just tying you to his bed frame and keeping you there at his mercy for as long as it takes for you to accept that you belong to him. He's sure if he can make you cum enough times then eventually you'll see that he's always going to take care of you, and you'll have everything you need with him.

- But instead he waits until one day when you come back from the gym, avoiding his usual attempt to bump into you and letting you get straight home and into the shower as always. Then with a well-timed, and urgent, knock on the door he draws you out of your apartment in just your towel, having safely retreated to his own, watching through the doorbell camera as you take one, two, three steps into the hall, dripping from every inch of your skin, an absolute vision. And as if the universe is rewarding his genius, right on time, your apartment door locks shut behind you, leaving you in the hall in just your towel, no keys, no phone, no way back inside.

- Kendall has stop himself from ripping the door off its hinges the second you rap your knuckles gingerly against it, pretending to look confused by your state of undress as you explain, mortified, that you got locked out and you'd been in the shower, and does he have the number for the building manager or a spare key? Kendall ushers you inside, saying he'll make a call to the building manager, but 'he might be a while because he always takes Wednesdays off' offering to put on coffee while you wait. Wrapping yourself tightly in your towel you hover awkwardly in the doorway, trying not to think about what your one cute neighbour must think of you.

- Thrilled with how this is going so far, you almost naked in his home, with nowhere else to go, he offers you a seat, insisting you try this new massage chair he's just bought for himself, telling you it's the best money can buy, completely top of the line and will melt your worries away. Feeling so bad for intruding already you can hardly say no, tucking as much of the towel around you as possible, accepting that there's no way to sit that won't have all your most sensitive skin pressed bare against the satin soft fabric. Perching on the arm of the chair beside yours Kendall starts to toy with the small remote, telling you you're going to feel amazing in no time. Surely enough as he presses the controls the chair starts to vibrate all over, kneading against your shoulders and inner thighs, a strong vibration emanating right against your entrance.

- Kendall notices the way your whole body jolts as the sensations start, the way your cheeks start to flush rosy pink as every nerve in your body is stimulated to perfection, your bare skin rubbed and massaged by the tiny movements of the chair. You try and take a breath to ground yourself, now even more embarrassed at how incredible the vibrations felt, sending tremours through your centre that made every inch of you feel endlessly sensitive. Clenching your thighs together didn't help, only amplifying the waves of bliss washing over you, but Kendall certainly noticed when you did.

"Feels great right!" He laughed darkly, watching you squirm as your bare pussy rubs against the shaking fabric, no escape from the overwhelming pleasure no matter how you shift your body. You could only hum in agreement, biting your lip to stop a moan following it, trying desperately to keep hold of yourself, not wanting your hot neighbour to see you make even more of a mess of yourself today.

- The soft kneading down your spine had you arching your back, your nipples getting more and more obvious through the thin wet towel the more cold and sensitive and excited you got. Kendall could see the shame and powerlessness and embarrassment building on your face as your body betrayed you, your hands gripping the side of the chair as if maybe you could hold on long enough if you just really focused.

"Kendall, I-" You tried to stand up while your legs could still hold your weight, hoping you could pretend to be more comfortable standing, and praying the water dripping off your body would cover up any wet patch you might have left. But as you leant forward, Kendall stepped in front of you, barely having to push your trembling thighs back down to keep you in place, a devilish grin on his face as he watched your eyes widen at his actions.

"You can't move yet sweetheart, I haven't even shown you all the settings. I think we can make you feel even better." The glint in his eye made you want to run out the door for help, but as he pressed one button and the vibrations whirred faster and stronger you found yourself fixed to your spot, the feelings of ecstasy building inside you and leaving you completely at his control.

"See, I can take care of you. I promise, you've never had someone take care of you like I can." Kendall cooed as his fingers stroked lazily up your thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensation already coursing through your veins. "Say the word, and I'll take care of every part of you, every fucking day." His voice was laced with such intensity you could feel yourself getting wetter as he spoke, unclear about how you ended up in this position, but starting to get the impression none of this was accidental. You watched his fingertips graze along the edge of your towel, looking up to see what you made of his offer and breaking into a wide grin as you nodded your head back at him, trying to speak but only being able to moan out his name in response.

"Good girl." He teased back, turning the dial up one more time before unceremoniously pulling open your towel just in time to watch your whole body shake with pleasure as your release cascaded through every part of you, your pussy throbbing from the release around nothing, thighs twitching under Kendall's hands as he kept you firmly planted in that spot until he was positive you couldn't take another second. Finally helping you rise to your unsteady feet he'd plant his lips against yours, hungry to taste you, unsure how he'd waited even this long to finally feel you lean into him, lips soft and warm, your skin sensitive everywhere his hands met it. Looking down at your wet naked body, cheeks still flush with a tinge of shame, he licked his lips and chuckled, "We're going to have so much fun, neighbour."

- Once that threshold is past, there's no going back for Kendall. He'll steal all your underwear and make you sit on his lap just so he can toy with you, watching you squirm like the first time, peppering your neck with kisses until you can't keep still. He'll hide your clothes when you're staying over at his so you're stuck there, wandering around his penthouse naked until he's seen enough.

- He'll wake you in the night with his fingers inn you, teasing your folds and strumming your clit until you beg him to fuck you, waking up the next morning full of his cum. He'll insist on pushing it back into you again and again, hoping that if he can get you pregnant, you'll stay by him forever.

- It's not just a sexual obsession, Kendall will come to you in all his darkest hours, collapsing on your lap and lamenting about the world while you stroke his hair and reassure him that the world hasn't ended on even his worst days.

- You are everything Kendall Roy has ever wanted for himself. He knew it from the moment he laid eyes on you, and he knows it every time you blush at his relentless teasing. And he'll never let anything take what he wants away from him.

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