#connor roy x you

[nanabrainrot]

(Don’t) Give Me Lip! [Brat Tamer!Connor Roy]

Brattiness gets you nowhere, but it gets him off at least.

Brat Tamer!Connor Roy/F!Brat!Reader

Warning! This is NSFW and not proofread. It includes: daddy kink, creampie, implied (unspecified) age gap, pussy slapping, and a bit of dom/sub dynamic. Reader is a brat and Connor tried to fix that.

WC: 2271

✎ Love, Connor

It’s not your best moment but his favorite sight: lips split by his cock and throat bulging, head hanging off the bed at you bat at his thighs with useless whines.

You were a bitch. Everyone knew it.

Connor’s girl is a bitch. Her crass lip, scoffs, and fussy attitude. Connor’s girl who whines so childishly to go home, tugging at his sleeve like a mad kid. Connor’s girl who still pouts and pokes her tongue out.

He can deal with that. The way you are in private is enough. It’s just the comment he heard today that bothered him: “He must not be fucking her right if she acts like that.” Followed by someone muttering back, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

The age gap wasn’t the be all end all, but granted you had no grays and his whole head was a mass of gray hair only made the thought simmer, a pot coming to a boil in his belly and stirred by the snarkiness of others. He let you get away with too much.

You’re better quiet like this: mouth stuffed shut.

“Aah, good girl. You’re so sweet like this,” he mumbles between scattered puffy breaths and choked grumbles. He really only told you that you were sweet when you were being fucked good enough to be quiet for once. There was less back talk when you were too stupid to muster up a smart ass quip. You behave better.

That thing you do when you’re all needy pops up just now, bare body twitching with your back against the sheets and whining in squeaks on his wet cock. That back arch. That clench of your toes and unclenching under the thin cotton of your knee socks that you were going to wear to the gym before you gave him lip again.

You wanted to cum. You could cum, if you could palm at your pussy. Your wrists move from clutching at his thighs from where you were batting at them for thrusting too harshly into your little throat - you were seriously going to try and get yourself off?

His hands move from where they were gripping at your tits as you twitched and arched and fly to your moving wrists to lock them by your side. A long whine vibrates against his shaft as you squeal at his sudden movement to deprive you of your orgasm. Each of his hands lock at each wrist to trap them by your hips to the mattress that was steadily creaking as he used your throat as a fleshlight.

“You fuckin’ kidding me? You’re gonna try and play with your pussy after all the shit you’ve been mouthing off all day?” he huffs with a scoff, voice returning to a series of strangles moans as he feels you swallow on his dick. That way you do to get him to cum sooner just to piss him off knowing he wants to keep fucking and fucking and fucking until the sun met the skyline.

“You’re such a - stop swaallowwingg… augh - bitch. Such a brat,” he seethes through clenched teeth tightening his grip so hard your wrists would inevitably bruise, “for no reason. I keep you dolled up and happy and you want to go to the fucking gym in this hooker outfit? Everybody thinks I don’t fuck you right ‘cause you mouth off everywhere all the time.” His hips still, balls sitting on your nose and thick gray pubes tickling your chin. Wrists stuck, you settle for kicking your feet like a tantrum and gagging and squealing. “Stop mouthing off in front of people or I’ll keep fucking this throat like that. Never gonna let you cum, just use your throat like a second pussy ‘til you can’t mouth off…”

A loud little yelp escapes you as he draws his hips back at you pinching his hand that way you do to signify a wordless safeword to go slower, be more gentle. Heaps of spittle coat your face as he pulls back, mascara running down your forehead as you sniffle pathetically with a quivering bottom lip. You pinch again, signifying you want him to let go of your wrists. He does so, raking his hands flat against your arms up to your shoulders then your neck to cup with one hand. His other hand settles on stroking the skin of your shoulder with soothing grazes. The way you were twitching signified you wanted to keep going though, which kept his dick at attention watching the way you tried to steady your breath and form words.

“Con - con, are you really mad a’ me…” you mumbled in broken, breathy words as you twitched.

“No,” he breathed before swallowing to even his breath as his dick drooled your spit onto the hardwood under him, “I think you just needed a lesson; you like to give lip is all…” His eyes glance up to your pussy from your eyes. “If I didn’t love your lips, that’d mean I don’t love all o’ you…” he breathes the last past, removing his hand from your shoulder to touch his shaft.

“Wan’ me to give you less lip, daddy?” you mewl, palms gripping the sheets in case touching yourself got him riled up again and continue punishing you.

“You’re saying that ‘cause you want something, aren’t you?” he smiles. You smile, cheeky, before sliding your tongue across your lips - hungry.

“Maybe…” you giggle, hips wiggling devilishly to draw attention to what laid between your thighs: your neglected pussy.

“If you promise…” he starts with his hand grazing your skin and sitting still on your pussy, cupping it with no pressure to not stimulate you, “I’ll let you cum.”

“No promises.” His eyes darken.

“Brat.”

The first slap makes you yelp loud, hands flying to press at his abdomen as your vision blurred from the sudden abuse of your cunt mixed with your head hanging off the bed upside down (though he was nice enough to support your neck with one of his big hands).

He fucking slapped your pussy.

“Connor!” you squeaked with a gasp at the contact. You let him fuck your throat for half an hour and the most stimulus he finally gives your pussy is a slap.

“You’re being bratty.”

Slap.

“It was a -“

Slap.

“J-Joke!”

Slap.

“Caahnnoorr!” you whined in a high voice, pressing your palms against his midsection to push him away.

“You wanna cum or not? You want me to bruise this throat so you can’t keep mouthing off?”

Slap.

“N-No!”

Slap.

“Oh, you don’t wanna cum? Fine -“

Slap.

“I wan’ah cum, please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good, please! ‘M sorry for being bad, I luh you pleasee let me cum!”

He pauses, his hand still on his shaft, rubbing the tip on your quivering pouty lips.

“Promise you’ll be good?”

You nod into his hand, pressing kitten kisses to his tip pleadingly.

“Promise… cross my heart, daddy, cross my heart…” you whimper soft like a breath or a breeze.

“Okay…” he croons, using the palm cupping your neck to help push you to sit up, “‘m holding you to it, baby.”

You nod, sniffling as you sit up and turn to sit with your legs hanging off the bed, sock-clad toes grazing the hard wood floor between his own bare feet as you looked up at him. It was a sight, a constant one, of your face coated in spit and pre-cum with mascara and makeup ruined and spread across your face. Hair all messed up from the friction of the sheets and lips so puffy from the abuse. You didn’t like being a good girl. It meant he wouldn’t punish you anymore. Promising to be one at least got him to let you cum.

He draws back and sits on a chair nearby, sinking into the soft brown leather of it. He rests his veiny forearms on the arms of it and leans into the back with legs spread - nude with a dripping dick.

“Make yourself cum then.” Your mouth opens and you huff.

“Me? You made my throat hurt!”

“I can just keep fucking your throat ‘til I cum and make you sleep with your throat hurting from being used and your pussy hurting from not being used.”

“That’s not fair!” you grumble, standing on shaky feet and shuffling to him as he lazily pumped his dick.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he replied with eyes glazed with lust that ate you from top to bottom. You climb on his lap, hovering your hole over his dick he was still pumping. He really did spoil you, even in bed you never chose to ride him but obliged if he asked - yet you always wound up looking like this as you rode him: lost in pleasure.

Your hands gripping his biceps hard with your lip caught by your teeth to suppress any embarrassingly loud moans. Brows knit with eyes clenched shut as you bounced, tits moving with each effort you could muster to milk him of his cum - use him like a dildo like he used your throat. It never works like that though, as you start to agree with every word he says in your thoughtless pleasure trying to chase the high you were building with every movement that sucked his cock in to kiss your g-spot with his thick leaky tip.

“You like it?”

“Mhm,” you nod vigorously, panting.

“Love it?”

“Mhm!”

“Gonna be good for daddy?”

“Mhm!”

“Gonna be good so daddy keeps fucking this pussy right? So good that daddy fucks you stupid even more than he already does?”

“Uh huh!” you squeak, hips bucking and stuttering to try and get as much of him as you could. Sloppily bouncing as your hips shook and drool slipped out of your puffy parted lips.

“Kiss daddy while you cum. Let you cum on my dick for being so good,” his hand catches the back of your neck hard and pulls you close fast. Your lips clash hard as your hips twitch. Your pussy squeezing him with the hot ridges of your sopping walls - cumming.

You pant, hard, into his mouth. The short and fast breaths escaping your nose fanning the hairs of his top lip, babbling incoherently into his mouth as your tongue keeps darting in and out to try so hard to keep kissing him. “Luh you! Luh you! Ah… lovee you, daddy… I luh you, C-Connor, cum in me? You’ll cum in me, please? Please? I’ll be so good if you fill me up, I’ll be good forever an’ ever… fuck!”

You still, lips hard and still against his as you breath hitches and your convulsing cunt makes a lewd squelch. It sounds like something thick spilling, he could tell you creamed on him by the way your hips kept twitching despite being still and sat on his cock to the hilt with his balls pressed to your ass.

“Stopping? I didn’ cum yet, baby,” he pulls back with that knowing grin before gripping your hips hard and using the force to slide you up his cock. Only to buck and fill you with it again, hard.

You draw back, hands moving from his biceps to sit on his check with stiff arms and staring with wide eyes and a mouth open. You look so beautiful like this.

The hair still messy with spit from facefucking you, tears making mascara coat your cheeks (and forehead from hanging off the bed upside down) and face entirely wet from the spit of having your throat fucked and messily kissing. Trying to be as one as you could be.

Looking at this sight has him following after.

“Cumming.” His hips ram up, balls and dick twitching in your hole as you cream agains, leaving the seat of the leather chair sticky with both of your cum as it leaks out of your convulsing hole.

It’s quiet, no sounds of skin hitting skin or squelching. It’s less about the sense of touch or hearing now, but sight.

He watches your eyes come back from your high as you do that nervous lip bite you do with your palms still against his chest.

“Do I really mouth off too much?”

“A little,” Connor admits, hands stroking your sides in an up and down motion.

He watches your eyes glance away to a lamp nearby, looking shy and guilty as you wriggle on his dick.

“I’m sorry…” you hum in a soft voice.

“‘S okay,” he smiles sweetly and pecking your cheek, “just watch the lip in front of others okay? Heard someone say you talk like that ‘cause I don’t fuck you well enough.”

“Are they crazy?” you huff, “I act all irritable because we’re not in bed 24/7. If you fuck me before those stupid meetings or parties or whatever they are, I’ll be more agreeable…” you glance away. Embarrassment flares again, your stomach fluttering.

“Connor, it’s just hard seeing you all handsome giving out attention…” you mutter, leaning to nuzzle into the nape of his neck, “makes me all jealous…”

You can’t see him smile from where you’re hiding in his shoulder, but you feel the smile as presses sweet kisses to your hair and his hands squeeze your sides reassuringly.

“I got a gala next week, Tuesday at 8. I’ll fuck you 3-6, sound good?” You nod into his shoulder, rolling your hips lazily to relish in the contact as his member softened.

You really were more agreeable, hanging off his arm all giddy and smiley the whole gala. Sometimes rewards work better than punishments.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

my first connor fic !!! sry if my characterization isnt the best its all dirty talk anyway tho so like pardon me. theres almost no connor fics in the tag so here u go old man fuckers <33

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient

Pairing ▹ Roman Roy x Fem! Reader

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

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

.・。.・゜✭・.Playlist ・✫・゜・。.

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

[happy74827]

Only You

[Kendall Roy x Female!Reader]

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

WC: 753

Category: Lime/Spice, Slight Angst

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

『••✎••』

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

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

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

Your breath is shallow and hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you had been there for him.

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

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

And that had meant the world to him.

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

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

After that night, everything had changed.

You had become the only thing he could count on.

You were always there for him, no matter what.

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

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

And that was why he had given you his heart.

Kendall didn't need anyone or anything else.

He only needed you.

Just you and only you.

[valkaryah]

[chaithetics]

i absolutely adore your stewy fic and have re-read it 50 times already 😭😭 would love a small sequel based on the 9th episode of him supporting the reader during the funeral and butting in to defend her/hold when she breaks down without caring about what other think, im not kidding when i say i’ve read it 50 times i can’t believe i’ve found a fic this good that’s touched the part of my brain obsessed with stewy and starches it to well i adore you

Don't Let Me Go

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) Reader

Word count: 2.9K

Author's note: THANK YOU SO MUCH NONNIE! I ADORE AND LOVE YOU! Every time I think about this request or read it, I'm kicking my feet and twirling my hair. This is so sweet and just the highest praise ever! WOW. I appreciate you, it was so sweet and I really hope you enjoy this! Please let me know what you think and feel free to message me! I love grief-related shows/movies (I love to be in my feels) so this was quite the interesting one. I apologise for any sadness this fic causes. I have more requests that aren't sad dw! Always open to Stewy requests as well. This can be read as a stand-alone/sequel to Furtive Hands. This also HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD lol. I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter/content warning: established/secret relationship, GRIEF, GRIEF, funeral, some fluff but just funeral grief and supportive Stewy.

The last week had been miserable, there was no other way to describe it or to do it justice. It should be raining, that would make sense for the funeral of such a commanding and depressing man, there also should’ve been thunder and lightning. Now that would’ve done justice for the thunderous man that your father was but maybe there was no thunder in the sky because it all left with him. 

You’re sitting in the backseat of the car with Shiv right in front of you as you wait for your brothers, both of the Roy daughters are dressed head to toe in black and a fine picture of grief. You’d gladly taken the backseat, it was worth the small risk of motion sickness, it meant it would be easier to distance yourself from any potential, yet inevitable drama. 

Shiv had a glassy expression that was hard to read, you picked up that there was something there that wasn’t just grief. You sat up a bit and leaned over closer, so your arms were resting on the back of her seat. 

“Are you okay?” You asked softly. 

Shiv’s head quickly turned to look at you, grief was there, some unshed tears in her eyes and she looked like a deer in headlights. Her lip trembled for a second and then she sighed and her blue eyes pierced yours. 

“Full disclosure…?” 

“Go.” You immediately replied and Shiv’s body moved more into your direction. 

“I really uh, fucked things up… Ken found out and Mencken, well he’s a form of stabbing a knife in return.” She breathed out and her eyes quickly left yours as she looked down at her body. “And I’m fucking pregnant, I-I told Tom and well he thought it was a fucking tactic.” She humourlessly chuckles as her eyes move to focus on the ceiling of the car. 

“Holy shit, Shiv.” You moved closer off your seat to rest your head on the top of the back of the seat dividing you two and put your hands out to hold hers, squeezing them softly and doing your best to genuinely smile for her. “I’m sorry, that’s a fucking lot. But congratulations! Congratulations? Should I be saying congratulations? If not we can go and sort it out, I’ll go with you if you want. Anything you need.” 

Shiv nodded as she kept her hand in yours and used her free hand to rub at her face a little. “I thought about it but I’m going to keep it. It’s fine. Thank you though. I’m planning to tell mom and that today so yeah.” 

“Thanks for telling me.” You responded giving her hand another squeeze and she nodded. After a few seconds, she let go of your hand and turned back around in her seat and not long after that your brothers joined you both. 

*******************

It had been an awkward car ride, you’d sunk into your seat, looking out the window as Roman and Shiv argued. You didn’t say a word, Kendall had eventually intervened and called for a truce which was agreed upon. Kendall had discussed Rava leaving the city with the kids which you thought was justified and you struggled to not call Kendall out, having to bite your tongue and fully focus your gaze on the windows. Right now was not the right time for sibling arguments. You’re sure that Kendall saw your pointed expression before looking out the window again. 

This had been tougher than you’d imagined. Roman had immediately broken during the speech, everything that hadn’t come out of him did then. Kendall had taken over, with a speech that had been well received but genuinely made you uncomfortable. Ever since you’d all sat down you’d been close to Roman, one hand gently on his back and the other hand holding his, he had a tight grip on it but he was doing slightly better now. Well, he was visibly. 

Each sentence that comes out of your sibling’s mouths feels like a blow and the casket is haunting you. Not as much as Roman though you suppose, if he wasn’t firmly planted onto the pew and with a pale, iron grip on your hands you thought you��d maybe float away. Or maybe you’d just sink down with the pressure of all the eyes, tears and smirks. 

As Shiv speaks, you know she’s right, her words about being his daughter have never been easy and it’s starting to get hot. Too hot. Sure there are hundreds of people in the church but it’s too hot even with that, you’re starting to overheat and your thoughts are overcrowding your brain. 

You look at Roman, your hand on his back and your other one holding his hand. You bite your lip, trying to force tears not to come. Unsuccessfully though. 

“I’m sorry, yeah, um I’m sorry Rome.” You let go of his hand and quickly move to squeeze past Connor and Willa in the pew. 

All of their eyes follow you in concern, you start to fidget with the corner of your sleeve while trying to regulate your breathing as you walk off to the side of the Church. You don’t know where to go, it doesn’t feel like anywhere is an option but it feels like you just need to leave. Anywhere but here, home or any place that’s ever had that title. Your mind is racing with that train of thought and another million ones, none are easier than the last though. It’s becoming overwhelming,  impossible. Your heart is beating so fast you can hear it and you can feel it beating so quickly it’s trying to carve itself out of your chest. It’s all so claustrophobic.  

An arm grabs you and you turn around to see that it’s Connor. 

“Hey, hey. Are you okay?” 

“It’s just a lot, I don’t think I can be- I don’t really want to be in here right now.” You quietly say, trying not to choke on the inevitable sobs. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” 

Connor’s gaze is focused on you and it’s gentle. Which somehow feels more intense, it amplifies the feeling of being under a microscope. You tug at your sleeve again as you feel the tears starting to get worse, you try to bite your lip as tightly as possible to stop the incoming sobs from arriving, to distract from the emotional pain with something physical. 

It doesn’t work though. 

You start to step away from Connor as your crying can now be heard, Roman stays frozen in the pew still trying to find some of his abandoned composure. Kendall’s noticed that this isn’t a toilet break and that Connor’s intervention isn’t cutting it and starts to make his way over. 

Kendall quickly realises that he’s not the only one who’s noticed and who is making their way over. Kendall’s compassion for you is still somewhat intact but today, controlling the narrative and putting out fires is his priority. 

“Stew, go. People are going to talk.” Kendall sternly whispers with a disappointed look, doing his best to communicate his point without drawing anymore attention to the scene. 

“Let them talk, I don’t fucking care Ken.” Stewy spits out with widened eyes. 

“You don’t want this story to break today, trust me.” 

“If it broke today it would drown in the rest of the funeral, Roman and the fucking GoJo numbers. You know that. Everybody does, it’s why Shiv and Matsson leaked it today.” 

“Follow the money back to your fucking seat.” 

“The money isn’t my priority here. She’s my partner.” Stewy says, Kendall scoffs and they both quietly walk over towards you and Connor. But you’ve been too overwhelmed to have noticed any of that interaction or them joining you and Connor in your weird corner towards the back of the church. 

“I need to- it’s so hot in here. It’s really fucking crowded, I know that you want a good turn out at a funeral but this is- it’s so unnecessary you know?” You cry out rambling and Connor’s concern shows more. You hadn’t publicly broken over your father’s death yet and Connor hadn’t seen you cry since you were a child. 

“Yeah, sure. Sure. A lot of people”

“It’s just so hot in here. I need cold air. Maybe some wine? Do you think there’s uh w-wine around? It’s a church, there’s bound to be wine, it’s Catholic- Holy Communion and all… Fuck.” 

“I don’t think there’s wine here you can drink.” Connor’s voice breaks a little.  

“I can’t do this, I don’t want to be in here. Connor please? Just I don’t know- I don’t fucking know.” You sob out and the tears and sobs just don’t stop. Connor puts his arms around you and does his best to keep some composure for your sake. 

Kendall and Stewy have now come over, Connor’s arms are still around you but you feel a hand on your back. One that rubs a little circle and you recognise that little pattern, the pressure, the touch itself. 

“Stewy?” You whisper out between a little sob.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice is soft and gentle as he continues to rub your back like he has a dozen times over the last several days. 

“I just- uh. I just, it’s so hot and claustrophobic. I needed air.” You’ve now left Connor’s arms to press yourself into Stewy’s side, his arms quickly replacing Connor’s as they wrap around you. You’re too overwhelmed to even consider or worry that your tears and makeup might be rubbing on his blazer. 

“I know.” 

Kendall is standing in an attempt to shield the rest of the world from this interaction, Connor’s hand is on your shoulder now. Stewy looks at Connor, tilting his head slightly towards you. Stewy smiles at Connor and nods, silently communicating that it’s okay and Connor can go back, which he does after squeezing your shoulder softly. 

“Can we- can- I need to go outside. I need air.” You muffle into Stewy’s side. Kendall pointedly looks at Stewy. 

“I know baby, I know. But there’s a lot of people outside still and cameras still.” Stewy says, as he rubs at your back comfortingly. Stewy isn’t worried about people seeing you both out there but about people seeing you in this state and it being immortalised in the media. 

“Fuck.” You mutter and the sobs become louder, more painful and desperate. 

You knew today would be hard, nothing was easy with your father. But you didn’t expect today to be so awful and to feel so trapped, he was gone, you shouldn’t feel like this but you just felt vulnerable, like the defenseless kid you were trapped in your childhood. Under a microscope for hundreds to zoom in on your pain, today wasn’t suffering just for your father’s amusement. 

“Yeah. We can get some air at the cemetery and take the long way back to the reception? Stop off somewhere if you want?” He asks softly. 

“We all came together-” Kendall starts. 

“I know-” Stewy quietly interjects. 

“I think I’ll go with Stewy, Ken.” You say quietly, you peek out a little from Stewy, puffy faced and wet with tears. Kendall doesn’t look super impressed at that, you can tell but he just gives a small nod.

There’s something about Stewy, his mere presence is a salve on your soul. Being buried into his side, being able to try focusing on the scent of his cologne instead of everyone and everything else is helping you remember how to breathe again. Your lungs remember how it all works again with Stewy at your side. 

“Do you want to sit down again before it ends?” Stewy gently inquires now that he’s noticed that your breathing is a bit more normal and the sobbing is more contained.  

“Sit with me?” Stewy nods. Kendall scoffs quietly but audibly and takes one of your hands and walks back to the front row pew of Roys, Stewy’s hand is gently on your back as he follows. You sit at the furthest end from Kendall, sandwiched between Willa and Stewy. Willa offers you a small but gentle smile and you press into Stewy’s side as he holds your hand in his. 

“Snot siblings.” Roman says as he finally looks at you, leaning across to give you a tissue. “Courtesy of the old Gerr-bear.” He adds as he refuses to look at the woman behind him. 

“Oh, thank you.” You whisper quietly and he nods looking away, just across from him. 

You’re aware that there’s more attention on you now over your little breakdown and at the development of Stewy coming over and then being at the front Roy children pew, Willa’s there of course but not even Tom or Rava are. You can tell Stewy’s aware of this as well as you look at his handsome side profile, he notices you staring and smiles at you, his arm around you squeezes you softly and he brings the hand of yours that he’s been holding in his lap up for a soft, sweet kiss. 

“Just breathe.” He whispers quietly as your hand in his goes back into his lap. You take a deep breathe, even consumed in your grief and the horror of this day you are so grateful for him. 

Despite the context, there is something freeing and peaceful about that. Being able to hold your hand in front of hundreds of people, kiss it and sit next to you. Stewy feels it deeply in his soul and while you perhaps can’t appreciate that right now, you can feel it too. 

****************

You didn’t stay to receive condolences like Kendall did. You immediately left with Stewy, ignoring the pointed and curious looks from everyone as he had an arm around you as you both quickly walked, he held the door open for you and you both sat in the backseat. 

As soon as you both were in and that door closed, you couldn’t help it. You just started crying. It was so overwhelming. 

“Hey, hey baby.” Stewy whispered into your hair as he pulled you tightly into him, he pressed some soft kisses to the top of your head. “I’ve got you.” He said softly. He was so soft with you today. But Stewy was always soft with you. 

Stewy held you tightly for the rest of the drive and when the car got to the cemetery you tilted your head, so you were still pressed against his chest and looked up. 

“Everybody knows now.” He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, it was a fact either way. 

“Yeah-” 

“Are you okay with that? I’m sorry-” You asked quietly, letting out a little hiccup. Tears still in your eyes. 

“I don’t fucking care who knows. I love you. You baby. The whole world can know and there’s a lot going on today, I think this will be the least of anybody’s concerns or key takeaways. I just care about you.” 

You lean up to give him a soft kiss on the lips, which he eagerly but gently returns. 

“I love you too.” 

“That always helps.” He says and you let out a dry chuckle at that, as you bite your lip looking out the tinted window. “Should we try one of those exercises?” 

“Exercises? I don’t think we can fuck in your car at the cemetery when everyone is here to dispose of my dad-” You say with another dry laugh but some more tears come to stain your cheeks. 

“No, no, no baby.” Stewy chuckles and flashes you a charming smile. “Those like grounding, breathing, you’re an amazing professional ones? Oh the colour one! Um, what’s something purple you can see?” 

You look at Stewy in awe of his sweetness despite the douchey exterior most have to deal with. Your eyes briefly skim around the car and the sea of people in black outside. 

“We’re at a funeral, everyone’s wearing black… Where’s the purple Stewy?” You ask in a tone as teasing as possible but a small sob comes out of you. 

“Well you know I have nothing against outfit repeating but I’d worn a purple blazer to the wake- that wasn’t even a week ago baby. There’s a line, and it would’ve crossed the line. With the turtleneck and trousers and a purple blazer it would’ve looked like I was wearing the same outfit. I can’t do that, not in a week, let alone for two death-related events. People would know.” Stewy rambles on. 

You can’t help but laugh at his ramble, only he would be acutely aware of that and have considered this all in great detail. You laugh into his blazer and nod. He wears a large smile on his face as he notices that this seems to have cheered you up somewhat. There’s still tears but that’s to be expected, he’s just glad that there’s somehow some smiles and laughs in there as well. 

You press yourself into him tightly, inhaling his comforting scent and presence. “Don’t let me go. Not out there, in here. Ever, please.” 

“I’d never dream of it, baby..” Stewy says softly as he presses a kiss into your head and then you both leave the car holding hands.

[gay-losers]

Waystar Royco

Roman Roy x Fem! Reader

Summary: (Y/N) Way has been a family friend of the Roy children for as long as they can remember. Ever since her dad, William Way , and Royco founder, Logan Roy, merged their companies, (Y/N) found herself at all of their events and vacations. She and Shiv were always paired up during things meanwhile (Y/N)'s brother, Drew Way, was paired with the boys. These arranged groups didn't stop (Y/N) from being the closest to the youngest son.

(Basically your father founded Waystar, and he and Logan merged companies. Your father is one of the biggest share-holders in the company and usually is a person Logan can confide in. Thus you were intergraded into the Roy family.)

In this story I plan on touching on a lot of heavy topics that not only the reader will have gone/goes through but also the trauma the Roy children (mostly Roman) has gone through.

It will be a very slow burn considering how Roman is in the show with romance. I also as of writing this (8/15/2023) have not fully finished the show! So a lot of the first few chapters will be before the show! With all of this out of the way (no pun intended) I hope you will enjoy my writing and that it helps with the Roman brain rot!

Chapters-

[idksmtms]

Succession Masterlist

Kendall Roy

Coming soon...

Roman Roy

Coming soon...

Lukas Mattson

Coming soon...

Greg Hirsch (Cousin Greg)

Coming soon...

Tom Wambsgans

Coming soon...

Could be tempted to write for Stewy...

[hunzzzzz]

Chapter 9 ✋🏼😩🤚🏼

They could never make me hate you🩷

[stewyhosseini-bf]

I think I can generally understand that fandoms have different 'factions' they split themselves into that don't like or interact with each other/ think THEIR little meow meow is the ONE meow meow and all the others need to stop being mean to him but... I think Succession is one where I sometimes find certain takes to be lacking in the nuance necessary to watch and enjoy this show... like, everyone in the show is, to some degree, a bad person. they all do horrible things constantly, even just by being complicit. the whole point is that, whatever they do or don't do, you still find yourself having empathy and relating to their humanity, their trauma, their want to do good even if they're unable to, their need for acknowledgement and achievement, etc... to look at tomshiv, for example, as ONE of them being THE evil person who ruined their relationship because of their ulterior motives, or acting like Roman's trauma is more valid than Kendall's bc Kendall was part of his, or like Connor is less or more worthy of understanding for xyz reason, or that Gerri or Stewy are the only good ones (as much as I love them both - I literally have a stewy blog - this is not the case), etc etc is just ... so weird to me. They're all broken people trying to find love and/or a sense of achievement in a broken system and doing horrible things to get there. And I'm not saying you can't favor characters or even hate others, don't get me wrong, I also have my MOSTEST meows meows. like, you're not obligated to relate to or like any character, and this post doesn't really apply to 98% of the posts I see, but there are certain posts that have me wondering whether we watched the same show. like, in a show breaking down these ideas of 'evil perpetrator who does evil bc he's purely evil and for no other reason vs 'poor victim who's never done a wrong thing in their life' by showing that even someone you empathize with can do things you can't understand, and even someone you have trouble empathizing with because of the things they've done can have a story that's relatable and human - having these extreme, unnuanced takes doesn't make sense to me and just kind of. misses the point of the show, IMO.

[zibah-ho]

explain why my brain don’t work 90% of the time but I had one thought about Ollie and now there’s like 23 different Ollie flavoured tabs open in there rn

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; series masterlist.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader series synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you. wc ; 105.3k and counting! themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, smut, childhood friends to lovers warnings / includes ; drugs, alcohol, depictions of abuse, mentions of death, hospitals, a lot of sexual jokes and general foul language, sexual situations, reader is logan's goddaughter, a lot of business talk, roman being an asshole, emotional constipation

main masterlist.

chapter one. “Jump, you fuckin’ pussy!” exclaimed Roman, though he was quick to shut his mouth when his therapist flung himself into the pool face-first.

chapter two. “I’m supposed to slip this under your pillow while you’re sleeping, but I have a feeling you’re not gonna let me get up for the rest of the night,” you whispered, crawling back to him and throwing a leg over his waist. He curled his own legs around you as well, leaning his weight into you. His head throbbed, his jaw throbbed harder, his heart throbbed the most.

chapter three. “We were kids,” you mumbled tiredly. Blurry memories of leering, smoking men and jaunty laughter crossed your mind. “How could I have known?”

chapter four. Kendall’s expression seemed to soften, recalling how the two of you would always argue over the last remaining strawberry popsicle during the summers you were still little children. When you would grab it from the freezer before he could, he’d tug on your pigtails and call you mean as you denied ever taking them, and you’d hide the wrappers in Rome’s room so he’d never know it was you. But he could always tell from the sticky red on the corners of your mouth and your sugar-highs that seemed to last for a little too long.

chapter five. “Dad,” Roman said, disrupting the eerie, tense silence. “Please?” He was a child asking for a dog again. He was a teenager asking to come home from military school again. He was a young adult asking for his dad to stop hitting him again.

chapter six. You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said.

chapter seven coming soon!

[nanabrainrot]

Threshold v. Tolerance [Brat Tamer!Connor Roy]

You love to get a rise out of him. Just don't be surprised when he wants to get a rise out of you too. BratTamer!Connor Roy/F!Brat!Reader

Warnings! This work is NSFW. Implied bondage and dom/sub themes (reader is tied up and left with a wand while Connor does work). Usage of a safe word. Reader is a crybaby.

WC: almost 2k

✎ Love, Connor

Bringing you out was a mistake on his part and he should’ve known better; it was always a blame game he played with himself given how he knew your fussy nature when in a sour mood. But you’d been in a sour mood all week – your grating scoffs and huffs at any of his suggestions for business deals (mostly just said out loud to himself, but attitude is attitude) left him only wanting to give you more space. Just the opposite of what you wanted.

And what he can’t provide can be substituted like Splenda for sugar. Circa nine o’clock is when he realized that you had been gone for a long while, different from your typical place by his side all fussy and agitated. Even if you were bratty, at least you were bratty with him. But no. Unnaturally, at the side of whoever the fuck that was, you were docile. Tame. Lame like a calm cat, limp in the way you leaned against the back of the sofa. Contented. More content than you’d been all week - with some random fucking man beside you.

“Ah, sorry, excuse me. I’ve had such a great talk with you and you have my cell of course – I just need to tend to my girl. She’s feeling a little tired, so I think I’ll bring her back,” Connor started in that rambling tone he did when he was scrambling to find a way out. You look none the wiser to the way you were affecting him, your half-lidded eyes watching the light fixture of the large ballroom just keep reflecting and bouncing off the warm lights of the sconces littered along the wall. The man beside you notes your tiredness, Connor observes, as he places his arm around you to lean your head on his shoulder. He’s grinning, a brilliant white smile, and his head probably swollen big with the ego of getting you to relax. You smiled a little, eyes finding Connor with a glint of mischievousness. You didn’t move from his shoulder then as he strode fast and harsh toward you so he decided now, hours later in bed: you shouldn’t and couldn’t move at all.

Tiredness was your explanation. You were a borderline insomniac and the two of you often took Ambien together before bed due to the tire refusing to take you both lest a little pill soothed you to sleep. Fine. So be it.

“Stay in bed since you’re so tired,” he hums, back to you as he continued to type without any haste. Clicking through little tabs, reading glasses sliding down the slope of his nose toward the bright screen that cast a halo around where you could see only his back. Indifferent. Uncaring, as you were at that charity ball. You whine into the ball of panties in your mouth, soiled with your own slick from the hour ago he spent pressing the bullet vibe hard into you while his hand choked you in and out of consciousness. To edge and back. Over and over. He’s so unforgiving, you always forget that he’ll go so far to relay that odd discipline unto you when you cross a line until the line of pain and pleasure blurred. Testing your tolerance and teasing the threshold of what just barely stimulated you: the hitachi wand stranded at your clit.

But you’d only really been acting out because he was being neglectful. His attention had to be divided with you then the calls then the emails then the meetings, messages, and everything between. You were aware of your greedy nature when it came to him, your relationship filled with your neediness and his desire to sate your selfishness in hopes of getting your attitude to dwindle yet always failing and resulting in this: you were weeping.

The ball of soiled cotton in your mouth served as a gag for finally wanting to admit it rather than insinuating it with scoffs and huffs, your mouth twitching as drool dribbled down your chin to meet the salty tears that trickled pathetically. You looked to him, brows knitting and unfurrowing as you tried to catch his attention with loud whines through the panties. As usual, nothing new. But looking at his screen, he’s too absorbed. From where your hands are tied you wriggle your hands to snap one of your hands earning a pause from him to register. A snap of the finger usually meant slow down and two meant you wanted out.

Another snap.

Connor stood, the chair scraping back as he turned to you with a serious expression of concern. His crew socks grazed the floor with his lazy shuffle as the bed dipped next to you and he untied your hands from the knot made with his tie, then his hands drawing down to the hitachi stuck between your thighs and turning it off as you panted when he pulled the panties from your mouth to discard them haphazardly to the plush carpet by the bed. You lied there, limp with your chest heaving, and sniffled through little sobs. The guilt welled in his belly, fluttering under the fabric of his white tank that was grazing your nude skin as he drew you in to cradle you with hands under your upper back and knees. His eyes are soft, a soothing abyss that soak you in consolation as you palm at the fabric on his chest with little mousy whimpers that he could barely make out but hearing: “I-I’m sorry I made you mad… I wanted your attention all week and I-I… ah should’ve said I wanted attention… don’t be mad… jealous… I love you,” you sniffle weakly, “forgive me? Forgive me, Connie?”

His lips meet your hairline, a long kiss, before mumbling, “Of course I forgive you. Always do… you just want me to only look at you, huh?” He murmurs into your hair in between pecks. He feels you nod, smushing your face into the nape of his neck like you were embarrassed. “You want attention now, baby? You wanna tap out?” he breathes, trying to soothe you. A shake of the head as you press clumsy, wet kisses to his neck as he sighed before letting you back on the bed.

He never tired of looking at you, it always served to at least get a twitch from his cock and now with the way you were babbling pleads for stimulation as you pawed at his pajama pants to free his hard dick. His hand, warm and thick, meets you hair to pet it as you keep tugging at the elastic waistband of the pants. “Shh, I got you. I’ve always got you, baby,” he cooed, his chest tight with guilt and pleasure as he mounted you with the tank remaining on as the pants settled on the carpet. You clutched his shirt with a tight grip and tearful eyes boring into his like a pleading puppy – a kicked one with a treat looming over it.

“Want it inside?” he breathed.

“Uh huh…”

“Promise to tell me when you want my attention then.”

Your eyes soften and mouth drawing into a little sheepish smile as you airily murmur, “Cross my heart, Connor…”

His face might be the eighth wonder of the world, the way his angular and pointed features soften like butter and mold into that crass face as he drew a strangled moan when his tip pushes past a ring of muscle twitching and swollen with arousal. Drenching him, so wet every movement made a squelch thanks to the number the hitachi did on you. Your hands rest on his pecs and thighs settle on his as you watch him with eyes like you’re seeing the aurora lights for the first time. He’s a good man. He’s a great lover.

“Inside… Cum inside it…” you choke through a strangled breath. You always pleaded for his cum to act as a lubricant as you mewled and grinned at the noises it made. He’s smiling back as you keep smiling up, enamored with every shadow of his aged face. “Cum already? You’re always so greedy about my cum.”

Your head meets the mattress as you arch back as grip the fabric of his shirt harshly as you groaned at the way he stilled his hips at the hilt, balls resting against the meat of your ass. He forces his dick to twitch inside, making your body tremble in surprise at the way the veins of his member met the ridges of your pussy. He was right: you loved his cum not in the way you loved breakfasts or walks in the park or Christmas but loved his cum in the way you love to breathe, walk, and blink. It was a necessity you appreciated and the grossest drug you’d ever done. He draws back, the thick meat of him sliding out of the dripping hole with ease. A low groan. His voice so scratchy and hoarse, it made you whimper.

He was so sexy. You’d never fail to wonder why he ever bothered feeling jealous; he might as well suspect you choose a can of spoiled wet dog food over a Thanksgiving feast.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” you sighed with half-lidded eyes that were locked into his face.

“You love it? You’re such a cute girl,” he hummed with a smile.

“I love you,” you mumbled in a strangled voice.

“Yeah? Really?” he huffed, thrusting deeper and harsher into your sloppy hole.

“Really,” you whined.

“But guess what?” he choked, struggling with the words as he held back his looming peak. You hummed in question, only to be cut off with your own gasp as he realized your own peak was impending too.

“I love you more.” His dick twitches, precum dribbling and the wanton squeak you give as you slipped over the peak at the sensation only served to make him spill himself into your warmth as you gripped at his shirt with tight fistfuls while you twitched. He could watch you cum a million times: your eyes squeezed shut with your mouth agape as it opened with a silent scream and your body twitched while you gripped onto him like a lifeline. The way you relied on him for not just pleasure but for normality, for contentment, drove him insane.

He sometimes wondered why he kept getting jealous, knowing that you always sought him out and rarely slipped away to be alone. Almost every moment you were sending him message after message, picture after picture, to keep him with you.

Every couple seems to think they love the other more.

There are few whose love teeters like yours and Connor’s, unsure of who was more obsessed than the other. You only acted out from a place of needing attention, divulging attention on stupid boys in passing to get a rise out of him only because you didn’t know how to ask him to do this without some punishment being attached. No matter how bratty you seemed to be, you always reverted to that compliant little angel when he was done with your punishment.

Hair spilled around your head like a halo as you bathe in the aftershock of your orgasm with eyes closed and a lazy smile, he stares down at you. Jealousy be damned, he’d always forgive you for being a brat. You were an angel all the same, even with your sharp tongue.

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 8

roman roy x fem! reader

Summary: The retreat dinner started as Logan's game plan was set into place. Jealousy and envy towards the others began to set in, ruining what Logan had been trying to set up for such a long time.

TW: Veganism, Logan Roy, Connor was interested in politics at an early age

Word Count: 4.6K

Notes: I had to put this chapter up as soon as I finished it.

Chapter 8: Connor Roy was interested in politics at a very young age

Logan sent everyone out of the room. Dinner was about to be set up as they had just finished cooking all the dishes. Everyone found their seats at the table. Roman sat with you, Jess sitting on your other side while Kendall was right across from Naomi, Shiv on Kendall’s side. You were close enough to start a conversation with Nan as was Shiv. Nan came out with a large turkey, setting it on the table as if she had anything to do with preparing it. She set it down before starting her speech to only make Naomi make her own little speech. Once they finished speaking, everyone around the table clapped, you following their lead. Roman rolled his eyes, exaggerating his feelings towards it. It was the purest form of pretension. You lightly kicked Roman under the table.

Jess leaned over to you, whispering. “See, I told you it was gonna get worse.” She let out a light chuckle before putting her napkin in her lap.

Kendall leaned towards Naomi and began to congratulate her speech. Instant sparks began between the two of them. You watched impressed before ignoring them for Roman and Jess. Everyone went back to their own stupid conversations before. Before you knew it, Roman got into a conversation that he seemed to get stuck in with his stupid jokes. He was asked about books, lying that he could even read in the first place. “Can you recommend anything?” He asked. Roman tried to come up with something but was also trying not to fuck with this guy even more than he was before. “Oh, didn’t you tell me to read that classic novel, uh fuck- what was it?” You jumped in to save him as you tried to think of a book you had put on the back burner for a bit. Roman looked over, hiding a laugh behind his hands, but acting as if he was just talking to you. You truly were always there for him. “Oh yes! The Pachinko Parlour!” You exclaimed. “Roman doesn’t wanna spoil it for me though. I like to experience them as I read.” You made an excuse for Roman not to go on.

“Oh yea, I’ve read it like 3 separate times. I’m actually giving her my copy. Uh- but what’s your memoir mostly on?” He asked as if he gave a single fuck about the memoir.

“Well, I’m kind of interested though. What is that book about Rome?” Shiv tried to embarrass Roman at the table. “Yeah, who’s the author?” A woman apart of Nan’s family asked as she tried to pull it up. “Can you spell it?” She questioned.

Roman tried to struggle with the concept, even forgetting the name of the book. Logan watched carefully, annoyed that Shiv would even do this. This was not the time to embarrass one another. Logan observed everyone to make sure they weren’t messing up the deal.

“Oh come on, I really don’t want this spoiled.” You tried to help Roman out. Jess decided to help out either, looking the book up and sending a text to Roman. He looked at his phone quickly, finally able to even answer a few questions.

“It’s fine. Uh- so- it is about…” Roman dragged out his sentence. “It’s kind of about this woman teaching a girl French.” He simplified it. He didn’t have a lot of time to read everything Jess had texted him.

“That’s it?” Shiv continued, a smirk appearing on her lips as she leaned down to sip soup off her spoon. You decided not to eat the soup. You didn’t know what kind of broth was in it.

“Well-uh no Shiv. It’s just kind of them, just- uh- well she sees her as a mom and it’s about identity and fucking war and stuff.” He was struggling. It was painful to watch. “It’s mostly about her family.” He tried to recover from whatever Shiv had set him up for.

“Alright, let’s not spoil it any longer for me now.” You cheerfully smiled at everyone. “So uh- what about you? Have anything you could recommend me? I’m mostly into classics or just anything devastating honestly.” You tried to take the spotlight from Roman.

He felt like a loser around everyone. It was almost as if he was a kid again being made fun of for saying something annoying. He felt such a deep shame overcome him.

“Why aren’t you eating, my love? Something wrong with it?” Nan took notice. You looked over and shook your head no. “No-it’s not that it’s just-uh I don’t eat meat.” You reassured her. She sat back and looked confused. It was just soup. “It’s just- I don’t eat any animal products and I wasn’t sure if it was uh- bone broth or something.” You tried to explain. She nodded slowly as she tried to find a solution to the issue. “It’s fine though. Please don’t worry.” You smiled, putting your hands over your heart.

“No-no. It’s fine. One of my daughters’ children is vegan. I’ll make sure with the staff of that fact.” She commented before asking a staff member to make sure what was in the food. She told Nan about some of the courses that were going to come out later that would be okay for me. They nodded to each other as your plate was taken away.

“I fucking knew you were a grass eater.” Roman snickered. “I can’t believe you would like to me like that.” He pressed. Finally the spotlight was off of him and no one was paying him any mind anymore. You were the freak at the table that can’t eat most of the food that was prepared.

A conversation started between Nan and Logan about politics and their network thanks to Shiv admitting she was happy to be leaving politics to work with the company now. They tried to shift some blame to Tom, as Tom was always pinned as some kind of scapegoat for anything Waystar did wrong. Kendall tried to rebuttal in the argument and make Waystar look better. Shiv wasn’t making this better though. Nan felt offended before looking over at you. You wanted to but in and say your opinions, but knew they didn’t align with the companies. “Anything you need to get off your chest?” Nan asked you. You shrugged before finally deciding to get into the conversation. “Well-uh, I agree with Logan that at Waystar we’re allowed our own opinions. I mean he hired whoever has the ability to interview and do journalism at ATN, no matter their political party. I mean, I don’t personally agree with anything ATN says, but that’s my own views.” You shrugged, sipping onto your champagne.

“And what exactly are your views?” Naomi asked, leaning in. She wanted to hear more from you. “Oh. I guess, I would consider myself a Marxist. I think money is just- it’s a concept we created.” You started before Nan cut you off to agree. She went on about it and spoke the evils of it and went by talking about what actually mattered. But Tom came in and shared that his view was money mattered since he had to pay things with it.

“Yeah, but Tom, do you think that’s all that has to do with who we are? For example, as Nan said virtue and integrity is what do matter at the end of the day. If we don’t have our morals, what’s going to happen when the planet dies, and you guys don’t have money to buy your ways out of it?” You tried to hit back at him. Nan agreed with you as did Naomi. It seemed like they thought you were the only one in the company who actually had some kind of insight. Shiv saw this and jumped in and dismissed her husband’s argument. Which only ended a small and petty lovers’ quarrel. Jess had to step in and settle it. “I think that we have our own lived experiences that create our perception of money and how the world actually works. But regardless, it’s what makes Waystar so brilliant. I mean look at Shiv and Tom, two completely opposite opinions, yet so deeply in love. I mean you should’ve seen their wedding. It was beautiful.” Jess tried to remove the conversation from something so hostile to something sweet. Jess was always the peacekeeper. She always tried to minimize any arguments and didn’t ever pick sides. But it mostly to keep Logan happy. If she was actually allowed to tell everyone what she thought, she’d tell Tom to go back to whatever cheese state he was from and remember what it was like before marrying Shiv. But the topic of Tom’s position came into play. It felt tense. It felt as though everyone sent digs at the Roy’s. Everyone insulted the siblings. It apparently was enough for Tom and Shiv to excuse themselves. “Do you think they’re gonna fight or…well that’s all they ever do.” Jess whispered to you. You laughed quietly.

Apparently, Jess was wrong. Tom had to calm her nerves since she went into full panic.

Kendall excused himself later too, Naomi taking notice. Kendall had gone into the bathroom to sniff the coin bag of coke in his pocket.

God, this dinner felt like a massive mistake. The only thing saving this was Jess and you, since you were both neutral.

But you spoke too soon apparently because one of Nan’s family members began to target you. “So who are you related to in this table?” He asked. “You both don’t seem very… y’know.” He pointed to you and Jess.

“Oh me and Jess knew each other in college. We both just happen to work at the company too.” You tried to answer.

“Oh? Who got hired first? You both seem so young to be this heavily involved.” It seemed inappropriate to even imply we couldn’t get the job based off of our age.  “You know also if you don’t align with their ideals. Especially the commie.” He pointed towards you.

“Uh- yea. I’ve been working for Kendall for 2 and a half years now.” Jess tried to remove herself, but couldn’t find an exit route. “As what exactly?” He asked. “An assistant.” She clarified.

“Why are two assistants this heavily involved with the company then?” He seemed to act as if we had any rights to speak onto what would happen in the company.

“Well- I had practically told Nan earlier, but they really treat us like family. I think we spend most of our days together really. I mean even the other night both of us and Kendall went out to dinner. And Logan was gracious enough, even a week into me working there, let me in his home and hosted a dinner for me. It’s a little thing they do for people who just get hired.” You lied. Logan caught on and seemed pleased enough. “But no one knew you didn’t eat meat products?” He seemed to caught on to your lies.

“No, but it was like a dinner like this. I just picked whatever I could.” You tried to explain.  

“Just leave the poor girl alone, you’re making her uncomfortable.” Nan scolded him.

But the conversation of CEO came up after Logan’s eventual step down. It caused concern for the entire family as they anticipated to hear their own name. But Logan refused to even say anything. He just left it up in the air. But Shiv interrupted and asked Logan to admit it was her. Roman looked at Shiv then Logan for confirmation. He had spent weeks preparing for the CEO position because Logan told him he had to. Only to have promised Shiv the same position. It felt as though it had gotten stolen from him. The room was quiet. Nan asked if it was true and Shiv confirmed. “Rome?” You whispered. You rested a hand on his arm, feeling how incredibly tense he was. “My life is fucking over.” He whispered to himself. Logan tried to back pedal, but Shiv wouldn’t let down. Roman felt as though he was going to cry at the table. The dinner was a complete mess. Nan dismissed everyone and Roman couldn’t be more happy for everyone to leave the room. Everyone got up, Roman with his head in his hands as he was in complete disbelief of this new betrayal. “Did you know?” You asked him. But Roman was too shocked and just told you he didn’t.

You guided him out of his chair, putting an arm around him as you made him go outside with everyone for a breathe of air. Jess decided to leave you two be. She felt sorry for Roman. She just hoped it didn’t end with a crash like Kendall. You walked down with him as you tried to have him focus on the view. “Just relax Rome. Maybe he was trying to keep his options open. Y’know, a backup?” you tried to rationalize. He didn’t wanna hear any of it.

“But what the fuck was all of that? As if he couldn’t have that conversation after I fucked up. I mean- just-“ his brain couldn’t grasp with what had happened. He bit his lip and tried to prevent himself from having a meltdown. This entire dinner was an entire shit show. He needed to leave. But he was stuck here. All thanks to Logan. And if he did anything to upset him, he would get blamed for creating the deal to fall apart more than it had already done. “I don’t know Rome, I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You whispered, rubbing his arm. “Can we just fucking go? I wanna go fucking inside.” He was basically shaking. You nodded, leading him back inside. You went into the bedroom he was staying at for the night, setting down on the bed. Roman just grabbed his clothes from his bag that he had packed and went into the bathroom to change. He had been taking a while though. You got up, putting your ear on the door. You couldn’t help but hear sniffling and low murmurs of insults thrown at himself. “Rome? You alright?” You called out before knocking. “Can I come in?” You asked. Roman got up from the bedroom floor as he just seemed to slide down on earlier as his emotions got the best of him. He had tried to hide the fact he was just crying in there, wiping his face before opening the door. But his cheeks were still wet and his eyes were puffy. “Roman..” You sighed, trying to pull him into an embrace, but he shoved past you.

“Do you think they have booze in here?” He asked in a calm tone as if nothing was impacting him. But it wasn’t working. He sounded disappointed. “Fuck- I should’ve known. Dad would’ve never thought of me. I don’t know why the fuck I even- just.” He couldn’t express his emotions. You searched the room for booze before finding a bottle left in a cabinet. Roman took it from you, laying on the couch that sat near the window as he took swigs of it. “What am I even supposed to do?” He asked. He looked up at the ceiling to prevent him to starting to cry again.

“I don’t know Roman, but I’m sure it wasn’t-“ you began to lie. You didn’t think Logan was ever setting him up for CEO. Anyone can see it. Roman was the last choice. Worst case scenario. Even with all the management training In the world. Even with the amount of times he’s been put in the COO position. Roman wasn’t ever meant for CEO in Logans eyes. “I just-fuck Rome- “you breathed out. “I just think- Logan has his options open. Shiv might’ve just taken his suggestion as fact rather than what it was; a suggestion.” You tried to reason.

“But you saw them out there. They constantly tried to insult me to my face. They all know how fucking stupid I am. I even had to have you cover for me.” He had run his fingers through his hair, tightening his grip on it. His breathing was irregular. It was either really fast and uneven or just deep heavy breathes. Roman felt as though there was a giant rock on his chest, and he had to try to catch air before he eventually passed out.

“Rome, you’re not stupid.” Your tone had so much pity in it. He knew it. You saw him as pathetic. Why wouldn’t you? Everyone else did.

“Yes, I am. Don’t act as if you don’t think so. I even fucking know it.” Roman mumbled, taking another drink from the bottle before offering it over to you.

“No Roman. You aren’t. I do think you’re very smart. If you weren’t Logan wouldn’t offer you the position in the first place.” You tried to season with him. You sat down on the floor next to him, trying to reason with him. But the mood was set for the night. “You may not have your siblings’ strengths, but you have our own they can’t compete with.” You laid a hand on his arm. He nodded trying to pay attention to you, but nothing you said made sense to him. His thoughts were getting the best of him.

“No- they’ve all told me before.” Roman tried to explain. He tried to get the words out before giving up. “Can you just fucking drink with me? I don’t wanna be a bigger fucking loser having someone stare at me get drunk.” He raised his voice. You knew he only did so because he was upset. You took the bottle from him and just took a swig. You set it down next to yourself, just knowing if you gave it back, Roman would finish it.

“If it matters, my family use to treat me like the dumb one too.” You opened up. You never really opened up about your issues with your own family. You had cut them off back when you were 16. You left the house as soon as you could and never looked back. Now it was about maybe 7 or 8 years since you’ve spoken to anyone. “They use to really make me feel like shit. Like call me a moron, that I did nothing to contribute to the family, that I was worthless.” You tried to recount everything. “But- I know I’m not that. Because I put myself through college, got good grades and now I work at one of the biggest companies in the world.” You hoped it would cheer him up. But you weren’t sure anything could.

“I’m sorry, I just-.” He mumbled. “I just- fuck- my dad just- I feel like he doesn’t trust me though. I mean- I did everything he asked. And what? Shiv? Really?” He didn’t know how to react to your story. He just knew his life was essentially over. His career would be gone with Shiv there. “I even told Shiv, I never considered CEO and then she tells me I can. For fucking what? So, she can do this to me?” He was questioning out loud. Not even that he was talking to you anymore. More just talking to himself.  “What’d you do? To prove it to them? Do they still-just-.” He tried to ask.

“I mean- we don’t speak.” You cleared your throat. “This is more different though. Roman it has to count that he even offered you. He didn’t even confirm it at the dinner. He might still have you in mind.” You tried to make him think differently.

“Fucking Nan. Old stupid bitch.” He mumbled. You laughed, getting up and sitting on the couch with Roman, moving his feet over.

“Come on, move over…” You tell him.

He grabbed the bottle off of the floor, clinging onto it as he tried to finally feel some kind of buzz. But still nothing.

“I’m sorry that I dragged you here. If I didn’t- maybe- I don’t know. My dad went in on you. I just- “he sighed before passing you over the bottle. You both took turns drinking from it. “I really-I just fucking need you… to be around I guess.” He tried to cover up what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he needed you. Not as in support. But right now. His ego hit a massive wall and he was just hoping if you shared some kind of feeling it’d cheer him up, but he decided against it. He couldn’t ruin this right now. Especially since he did need you to be with him right now. “Hey, no, it’s fine. Nan was nice to me. Your dad wasn’t as harsh as he was to Shiv. He basically insulted her the entire dinner.” You pointed out. He barely acknowledged any of Romans wrong doings the whole night. It must’ve counted for something with Roman. “I mean did you hear half of the things he said to her.”

Roman cracked a smile, nodding. He did realize maybe it wasn’t the end of everything. Shiv might’ve ruined the deal. It could impact her chances of being CEO if she’s willing to spite Logan this much when she knew how important it was.

“You’re really smart Roman.” You reminded him. “Really.” You laid your head on the back of the couch, looking up at him. He looked so sad. You wished you could’ve comforted him a bit better, but it didn’t seem like that’d happen anytime soon.

Roman didn’t want to acknowledge your compliments. He just didn’t believe them. Despite what you said. He looked over at you, looking down and up. His eyes stayed onto your lips a bit too long before finally looking at your eyes. He sighed once again before looking at the window to avoid any thoughts he had about you. He wanted to grab you and finally do what he’s been thinking about for days now. But again, he needed to be professional enough around you. If you didn’t reciprocated feelings it could be the end of the one thing he enjoyed having around him.

“Also what a douchebag that guy was? Did you hear him just straight up call me a commie?” You brought up, your lips curving into a smile, laughing out of confusion of the awkward interaction.

“I think the biggest blow of the night was finding out you were a commie. I mean come on. All vegans like communism.” He started to finally revert back to him.

“You’re not too mad about that, are you? I really like this job; I hope it doesn’t impact my abilities to work now.” You batted your eyes at him, leaning close up to him. Your bottom lip turned into a pout as if you were begging him to reconsider his thoughts. “I don’t know how I feel about some dirt eater working around me honestly.” He joked. His heart began to pick up the pace as you had gotten close to him. He wanted to hold you and finally make that connection. His fantasies began to run wild of everything he’d do with you if he wasn’t so scared of everything he actually wanted to do.

“Okay fine. What if I compromise with you?” you joked. Roman looked at you curious to how you’d even do so. “I don’t know, y/n, what’s done is done. How wont I know you won’t poison my food with that crap?” He asked you.

“How do you know I haven’t?” You smirked.

You still hadn’t moved away. You were still awfully close to him. You tried to reason with him, but his mind was somewhere else. Almost as if he was in his own little world. You blamed it on all the stress he had just gone through. But in reality, his mind kept playing every possibility in his head. How you would feel. How you’d taste. How your bodies would just know what to do together. But Roman didn’t want to ruin what you had. This work dynamic worked so well. You actually cared about him. He couldn’t waste whatever you both had for some stupid mistake he might regret. But leave it up to Roman to let his body work faster than his mind.

His hands reached up to your cheeks, landing there before pulling you into him even further. He messed up. He knew he did. But it had been too late. He finally closed that gap between the two of you. Your body didn’t know how to react. Roman just kept his lips onto you, hoping you’d reciprocate. He was begging, pleading for it in his own mind. His hand leaving your cheek and fell down to hold onto your waist. The other remained but loosened his grip onto you.

You kissed back. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact you wanted to kiss him. You moved closer over to him, adjusting to face him better, moving onto his lap. Your armed draped around his neck as your lips moved with his. Roman finally relaxed under your touch. He didn’t fuck up. This wasn’t gonna end in a complete fucking disaster. His hand ran through your hair, the other roaming your body. There was a quickness to the kiss. Almost as if this was the last time this would ever happen again. A kind of hunger that had been there for awhile. A new fear set in. He didn’t know how to deescalate this. He had no intention on furthering this with anything but a kiss. Possibly dry humping. But his fear of intimacy was starting to creep up. He just thought he’d let it become an issue if it started to become one.

You couldn’t believe what you were even doing. You didn’t even think you had a crush on him. Sure, a few fantasies. But you weren’t ever sure if you’d actually go for it or ever really happen. But it was. Your heart was practically beating out of your own chest, adrenaline running through you.

The kiss finally broke apart, both of you just looking at one another, unsure of where to go from here. There was a sense of nervousness. An anxiety of whatever relationship you both had before was officially gone. “Can you stay the night? Please.” He began to beg. He didn’t want sex out of this. He wanted to know your feelings towards him, if you even felt the same. You held your breath, unsure of how to respond to him. You didn’t have any intentions of sleeping with him. What if people found out? “Uh- Roman… this was just- “You tried to let him down easy.

“Please. Just- I don’t wanna fuck you or anything. Just stay here.” He asked, his hands still around your waist. He drew little shapes into your hips out of nervousness of how you were going to even respond. He was worried you’d reject him.

“Okay Roman, I’ll stay the night.” You smiled lightly before being met with a softer kiss from Roman. You let yourself get drawn back to him.

He laid back further, allowing you to straddle his waist. His hands sliding down to your thighs as you laid down to kiss him back. It wasn’t as rough and eager as the first one. It was sweeter, calmer. It felt natural between the two of you. This was extremely wrong, but you wanted this just as badly as him.

Notes: It finally happened! AHHH

Chapter 9

[happy74827]

Just Words

[Siobhan Roy x GN!Reader]

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

WC: 2274

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

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

『••✎••』

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

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

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

Logan slammed the door, causing you to flinch.

"Fuck," he said, taking his seat.

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

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

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

Logan narrowed his eyes at her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turned and saw Shiv leaning against the wall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck off, Ro.”

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

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

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

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"I think it's pretty clear."

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

"Someone like me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys-” Roman started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes?” Your attitude was short.

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

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

"What the hell?" you demanded.

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

"What the hell are you talking about?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, not particularly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what was Siobhan offering?

[secondhand-snow]

a body of impulses

lukas matsson x f!roy!reader (succession)

★chapter 2★

wc: 7.5k+

warnings: toxic family dynamics, drinking, very mild violence, smut, virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink (if you squint), oral sex (f! recieving), fingering (f!recieving), handjobs, cum eating, spit, clothed sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), biting, so much making out, praise, size difference, no use of y/n

summary: The youngest Roy meets Lukas Matsson at her brother's birthday party. Limerence strikes like lightening. Self-control snaps. Attachment blooms.

author's note: I'm considering making this a short series? Let me know what you think! please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging if you enjoyed!

It made you feel strangely childish, running through the darkened rooms of the event space, carefully stepping with bent knees to reduce your risk of falling from the extra few inches your heels provided you. Looking over your shoulder at the dwindling silhouettes of your siblings, you checked to be sure they didn’t think your disappearance was too suspicious. Of course, they were too transfixed with themselves. They were staring at the large, falsified, magazine covers of themselves hung on the walls of the open space. 

Connor was still making a fuss, comforted by Willa.  You noticed a few attendants coming over to begin the process of removing his personalized poster from public view. Meanwhile, Shiv and Roman had their heads together, no doubt constructing some plan to turn Kendall’s birthday into a business opportunity. You rolled your eyes lightly, turning back around to peer through the small crowd at your older brother’s bomber jacket.

“Ken… Hey Kendall! Wait up!” You called out to him, your voice only a little louder than your normal speaking tone to carry over the techno music. He heard you, apparently, turning to lock eyes with you. You trotted up to him, grateful that the room you were in was mostly empty of partygoers. The walls were big screens flashing with fire, the orange light lighting up Kendall's face as he looked at you. Flames flickered in the pupils of his eyes and you almost laughed at the ironic symbolism of the moment.

“So, I know Rome gave you something earlier, I don’t know what, but uh,  I got you a card too.” You opened your small clutch and pulled out a white envelope, Kendall’s name written on it in your neat cursive handwriting. 

“You did?” His eyebrows raised, accentuating the few rows of wrinkles in his forehead. Taking the envelope from your hand, he turned it around in his fingers, almost like he couldn’t believe it was real. You bit your lower lip and nodded, hands moving to clasp behind your back.

“Yeah, I um… didn’t want to give it to you around them,” you nodded your head in the general direction of the rest of your siblings. “I know things have been, like, weird… lately. But, It’s your birthday and I love you and so I got you something.” Smiling on the last word, your tone raised the slightest bit. Kendall’s brows were still furrowed, but he nodded and ripped the envelope open to produce the card.

It was a cliche store bought birthday card, the front of it adorned in a goofy catchphrase and the picture of a dachshund. You saw his lips twitch the slightest bit as he read the front, a full smile forming as he opened the card. The stereotypical joke’s punchline was delivered and sandwiched inside the folded paper was an old photo of the two of you as children. He picked it up between his thumb and pointer finger, turning it over to find the date it was taken and both of your names written on the back. 

A small laugh escaped his mouth, his pointed grin blooming over his face as he turned the photo to face you. Pictured were the two of you, outside at the Hamptons house on a sunny day. You were young, maybe a few years old and Kendall was an older teenager. The younger version of yourself sat on his shoulders, your hands coming down to cradle his face while his hands held onto your ankles. Your tongue was sticking out at the photographer, he had noticed your face and was in the midst of an open-mouthed laugh when the photo was captured. 

It was a nod to your younger years, when Kendall filled more of a fatherly role than a brotherly one. You had written on the inside of the card, the message reading: “Happy birthday Ken. I love you always, no matter what,” with a heart and your signature ending the note. 

“What do you think?” 

“Are you kidding, I love it. God, I- I haven’t seen that picture in years.” He tucked the photo back away and held the card in one hand while he embraced you. 

“Right?! I found it the other day when I was looking through some old diaries. That was such a good summer.” You beamed at him as you spoke. He hadn’t been this happy around you in weeks, maybe even months. 

“It was. At least, by our standards.” Kendall chuckled a bit with the memory. “This is- it’s just great. Thank you.” You pulled him into another hug, he tucked his nose into your hair and planted a soft kiss on your head.

“I’m glad you like it. I really love you Ken, don’t forget that.” You looked into his eyes as you said it, a sad smile on your face at the intensity behind your words. He just nodded, squeezing you tight one last time before releasing your frame.

“Here, come on. I’m gonna show you something.” He took your hand then, leading you through the throng of people enjoying his birthday party, nobody sparing him a second glance as he walked by.

That was how you ended up with a rainbow bracelet around your wrist and a too-strong drink in your hand, standing behind the rope blocking off Kendall’s private treehouse from the rest of the party. Your clutch fell around your wrist loosely, your fingers prodding at the straw in your cocktail as your siblings bickered in front of you. 

“You’re getting worked up about a treehouse? Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Kendall shut the rope divider in front of Roman, turning his attention to a newcomer entering the space. “Hey, come in. Wristband him.” He nodded to the security guards.

“Yeah, wristband this guy. Uh, what’s his name?” 

“No idea.” 

“Good, so good. So random, unknown man and our baby sister can come in, but not us?” Roman talked with his arms, navy blue suit jacket riding up to show the skin of his wrists.     Shiv crossed hers as he spoke, rippling the green fabric at the front of her chest, eyes staring daggers into you.

“Yeah so the thing is, and- I already said this, she’s cool. You’re not.” Kendall gestured to you and you gave a weak smile to your excluded siblings.

“Fucking bullshit.” Roman ran a hand through his hair.

“See these two? Don’t let these two in okay. She’s good, they’re not.” Kendall pointed to the three of you as he talked to the guard, a tall blonde man in a black tshirt. “This is my treehouse. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here.” 

Shiv and Rome were in disbelief, still trying to reason with your eldest brother as he turned away from them and towards you. He put an arm on your back, guiding you to walk away from the scene and into the exclusive treehouse. You couldn’t help turning to look over your shoulder, glancing at your two neglected siblings with wide eyes. Roman had begun walking away, but Siobhan was still standing there, arms folded. As she caught your gaze, she rolled her eyes and shook her head in shock before finally moving to follow her brother deeper into the party, beginning to speak to him as she walked.

Kendall cursed under his breath as he led you into his treehouse. It was honestly eerie to see the structure again. You had too much of an age gap with Kendall to have played with him in it as a child, but on more than one occasion you had wandered up into it on your own, looking for a place to escape the aggressive family dynamic that arose wherever your siblings were in close proximity. There was even a time when you were a young teenager you had accidently busted Kendall for smoking weed in the treehouse during a family get together. He ended up paying you handsomely to keep quiet, which you did, never uttering a word about it to this day. You were nothing if not loyal.

The inside of this reconstructed treehouse was much different than the structure of your childhood. For one, it was massive. The treehouse you remembered could barely fit all four of you kids in it, definitely not the few dozen that stood milling about in the new space. The interior was dark. Black walls, wooden dividers and glass windows made up most of the area, with some modern light fixtures and lanterns set around to provide a warm glow. The outermost walls were made to look like the outdoors, a forest of sorts with shadows and cool tones to outline the trees. A wooden fence sat in front of the forest walls, making the entire space feel strangely like an outdoor balcony or patio. The music was lighter in this area, though still a techno party beat playing just loud enough that conversations were had in louder tones than normal. There were more earthy toned chairs, couches and tall tables filling the space than other areas in the event, and more partygoers milling about and chatting rather than dancing. 

“Oh here, come on.” Kendal had been talking, mostly to himself for a few seconds, just rambling about your shitty siblings. You tuned back into his words as he spoke in your ear and turned you in a specific direction with the hand on your lower back. Your eyes searched around the room, not recognizing what was drawing Kendall until he spoke again.

“There he is, Lukas Mattson. The Odin’ of codin’.” Finally you noticed the blonde man sitting just a few feet in front of you. His tall frame was dwarfed by the way he sat on the bench, lanky with one leg hitched up and a beer in his hand, but as he sat up you immediately recognized his face. “My man, my myth, my fucking monolith. What’s up bro? You havin’ a good time?”

“Do I look like I’m having a good time?” Lukas’s gaze darted from Kendall to yourself, your eye contact lingering for just a second long enough to provoke you to turn your stare to the ground in reservation.

“No, you do not.”

“I am not.” 

“Still haven’t figured out the socials, huh? Dude, you should get your algo guy to fix your code.” Your eyes lifted at that, and you smiled at the tone of your brother’s voice. Your hands came to raise the glass you had held at your side to your mouth. You drank through the thin black straw, the artificially colored liquid stinging your throat a bit as you swallowed heavily. Mattson didn’t respond to that, cocking his head at Kendall’s comment, pointedly looking at you, and shifting back to stare at him again.

“Oh uh yeah, this is my sister,” Kendall introduced you with your name, and you gave a small smile to Lukas in greeting. “Listen, heads up, my siblings are looking for you now.”

“And you led one of them straight to me?” He didn’t acknowledge your greeting, but his gaze continued to linger on you, a new softness behind his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she’s cool. She won’t try to get to sell your soul like the other two. Shiv and Roman, they’re like emissaries from the Grand Duke of Old. Dad wants to buy you, so he sent his winged dildos to schmooze.” 

“I shouldn’t say anything, even the look on my face is commercially sensitive.”

“But it makes, like, no sense, correct? Amtrak buys Tesla? If anything, you should buy him.” Your eyebrows furrowed the smallest bit at Kendall’s suggestion, turned your head to look up at him. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice your confusion, but the way Mattson cocked an eyebrow showed that he did.

“You think?” You turned your attention back to Lukas, taking another sip of your drink. “Well, I really appreciate your impartial read.” He leaned his head towards Kendall, speaking lowly, like his words were a secret.

“ Kendall? Uh, Rava wants to say hi.” Comfrey had appeared behind you, moving quickly and quietly in a way you’d come to appreciate. You didn’t even notice her presence until she spoke, fidgeting with the phone in her hand.

“Sure, uh not right now. When I’m ready.” Kendall dismissed her and Comfrey slinked back into the shadows of the party, waiting for him to finish his conversation. “Listen, you should stay up here, okay? So you don’t get networked to fuck. Uh, here,” He spoke your name, addressing you for the first time since he’d begun talking to Lukas, “Keep the cronies away from him. And the sibs.”

“Um… okay.” It felt like more of a command than a request, but you agreed despite your annoyance.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy, man.” With a wave, Kendall left, following Comfrey into a new area of the night’s festivities.

You stood for a moment, awkward and self conscious, twirling your drink’s straw between your thumb and index finger. Biting your lower lip, you made eye contact with Mattson, realizing he had been staring at you this whole time.

“Hi, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met before.” You finally spoke, offering a small smile to the man in front of you. 

“No, we haven’t. I know you though. The youngest Roy? The virtuous daughter?” He motioned as he joked with you, the beer in his hand sloshing around in its brown glass bottle.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed, moving to sit by him on the wooden bench he occupied. “You can’t believe everything you see in the media, I thought you would know that better than anyone.” 

“Maybe. Your lack of involvement with your family’s scandals speaks for itself, though. You’re a saint compared to your father and brothers.” His Swedish accent peeked through his words, making his sentences flow together like music.

“Well, I’ve had less time to fuck things up. I joined the company much later than them, I only finished college a few years ago.” Shrugging while you spoke, you tried your best to dismiss his implications. Your momentary status as a neutral bridge between your feuding family was something you couldn’t bear to lose.

Mattson hummed before answering, nodding his head slowly as he looked you up and down. “And you aren’t going to use this time to try and convince me to sell?” 

You shook your head, a shy smile coming to your face. “Honestly? I don’t really want to. I think you’ve already decided what you want to do, and no amount of my bargaining will change that.”

“You’re smart.”

“I try.”

Lukas grinned at you, “Do you always do what your brother tells you to?”

“No, I just want to make him happy.” You shook your head slightly, feeling a little embarrassed at your obvious obedience to your family. It’s not like you don’t think for yourself, it’s just that sometimes complying is easier than the alternative. “You’re not enjoying the party?”

“No. Are you?”

“Not really. Crowds aren’t my favorite thing. And these drinks are way too strong.” You set down your drink on the floor near the bench, the liquor was beginning to give you a headache.

“But you came to support Kendall?” You nodded. He raised his eyebrows. “And you still say you aren’t obedient to him?”

“I…” You bit your lip lightly, not sure of how much information you should really reveal to this man. He was an adversary, but something about Lukas made you want to be honest with him. Maybe it was his eyes, or his casual posture, but you felt like leaning into his warmth, however strange it may be. “Well, you did call me virtuous. Maybe I just need to rebel a little, give into impulses for once.”

It was a joke, you both knew it, but the smirk on Mattson’s face felt a bit serious. “That’s an idea.” 

You smiled at him, a little blush coming to your cheeks at the suggestion in his sentence. He had moved a bit closer to you through your conversation, and now his knee brushed gently against your. His hand comes down to innocently brush out a wrinkle in the skirt of your dress, resting gently on your thigh for a moment too long before moving away.

“Hey! There you are, fucking hiding from me. Like a human VPN.” The sound of Roman’s voice snapped the two of you from the silence of the shared moment. You quickly adjusted your posture so your leg was crossed away from Lukas, adding a bit of distance between your bodies. “I see someone already found you. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, just enjoying the company. It’s just, uh, you can fill in the blanks.” You subtly glared at your brother as Mattson spoke, immediately aware of his attempt to cut you from the conversation.

“How’d you get up here Rome? I thought Kendall had you banned from the premises.” Roman perched on a chair across from the pair of you, rolling up his sleeves as he sat.

“I paid a girl to give the security a blowjob, what do you think?” Sarcasm was thick in his voice as he spoke to you. “Hey Mattson, uh, question. My old man- our old man,” He made a motion between you and himself, “got a bit grumpy this morning, but you weren’t trying to humiliate him, right? I mean, fucking everyone says, last big legacy content library, last big fucking super app streaming platform. We obviously fit right?” 

“People say we fit.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Roman runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tick you’ve come to know. You can tell he's worried at the frankness of Lukas’s responses.

 “Stargo is really, really shitty, though. Your genius would really help us out, if you end up selling to Waystar” You raised your eyebrows as you addressed Lukas. The anxiety radiating off of Roman made you want to pitch in, help him, although you still thought your haggling wouldn’t affect Mattson’s final decision.

 “I do have one question before we start these.. negotiations. Like, I don’t wanna be rude but.. What kind of shape is your father in? How long will he be around, we’re talking one year… five years..?”  Roman is shocked quiet at Mattson’s forwardness, his hands running down the sides of his face as he tried to formulate a response that won’t fuck the deal he’s working to build.

“Well, you mean, you just don’t want him hanging over you, right? Looking over your shoulder all the time, especially while you work” You ask in his stead. Lukas nods. “Well what if you don’t have to talk to him? Like, ever?” Looking over to Roman, you try to throw him a lead to jump back into the conversation.

“Yeah, you work out of, uh, Austin, London, Stockholm, Geneva, whatever. It’s just totally separate companies and we burn Stargo.” Rome catches up, making a contribution to your schmoozing. “And on the occasion that you need to send up a fսcking smoke signal from Geneva, then that goes through me.”

“We can do that together.”

“So, I know GoJo is your baby, and we don’t want to interfere with that at all. So, bearing that in mind, would you consider meeting with my dad?” Roman clasps his palms together and points them towards Lukas.

“Yeah, well, if all this is true, then... yeah.”

“How's Monday?” 

“Monday is great.”

“And if I were to shake your hand right now, could I go tell my dad that I basically just bought GoJo for him?” 

“No.” Lukas chuckles, pauses to take a sip from his beer. “But you can tell him I'm in the conversation.”

“I’ll fucking take it.” Roman smiles and takes a deep breath before standing from his seat. “I will see you then, I have a call to make” He pulls his phone out as he walks away, already starting to dial in the numbers.

You take a moment to be silent, watching his frame fade into the crowd until you turn to Lukas. He’s looking at you too, head tilted and grin plastered across his face.

“I thought Kendall told you not to let him speak to me.”

“I thought I told you, I’m trying to be more rebellious.” You smile back at him, switching the way you cross your legs to let your bare knee touch the fabric of his pants. 

You stay that way, speaking to Mattson and letting him subtly touch your arm, back, leg, for the better part of an hour. It hadn’t been your plan to stay so long, just make a quick appearance for Kendall’s sake and head home before midnight, but you found yourself not wanting to end your dialog with Lukas, causing you to push back your exit further and further. He grabs you a new drink from one of the servers walking through the party, a cocktail that luckily tastes much better than your previous refreshment. Well, maybe not so luckily, since you end up drinking enough to get yourself buzzed and bolder than normal. 

You’re self aware enough to draw back when you notice your siblings entering the room again, Roman giving a small wave before heading to a different seating area. You don’t pay him much mind until Shiv enters the area as well, hair frizzy and makeup smudged. She seems pissed, he seems drunk, it all looks like a recipe for failure. Roman perches on a chair, glass of wine in his hand, Shiv turns to leave but gets drawn by some comment he makes.

“I’m sorry- maybe I should…” You look back at Mattson, your conversation had lulled for a few seconds as your attention had turned to your siblings.

“Have to go babysit?” He smiles at you, a bit condescending, but not enough to make you upset. You don’t respond for a second, biting your lip and looking between your current company and the scene between your family. 

“I just…” The words come at as a sigh, your head lulling back in exhaustion as you notice Kendall and Naomi breaking through the crowd to engage in Shiv and Roman’s antics. “Things always get out of hand when I’m not there to mediate. But I’m so fucking tired of having to be the good one all the time” 

“You don’t have to be, just take a step back, watch shit unfold. Rebel, remember?” Mattson’s blue eyes are dark in the lighting and his eyebrows are raised, daring you. You smile, nod, take a sip of your drink. “It’s actually good entertainment when you aren’t involved.” 

Deciding to take a break from your role as peacemaker, you turn to face your siblings in your seat, the same direction Lukas is sitting. You feel his bent knee brush against your back and lean into a bit, something not visible from your sibling’s position. You allow yourself to stay that way until you notice Roman moving to get up. That sparks you to rise, set your drink down, murmur an apology to Lukas, and quickly run over to the circle of your siblings.

“You know you want to, just fucking hit me, do it. ‘I’m not a real person’ fuck you.” Rome’s words are charged, he’s too close to Kendall for your comfort and you see his next action coming a mile away, without any way to stop it. “All right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Happy birthday fuckface.” 

Two hands hand on Kendall’s back as he turns to walk away, a push from them sending him falling onto his face in the middle of the party. You know Roman didn’t mean to push him so hard, he wasn’t thinking clearly, but the result was the same regardless of his intent.

“What the fuck Rome? Why would you do that?” You move to help Kendall up with Naomi, turning your head to yell at your other brother, who was laughing at his actions.

“Everybody just take it easy, okay?” You didn’t even notice Connor’s presence until he spoke.

“Oh shit, are you okay? Happy birthday.” Roman laughed through his words. Kendall pushed you away from him in embarrassment when he stood, Naomi giving you a look telling you that she had it covered.

“Take your coat off. Take your fucking coat off.” He didn’t look back at Roman, didn’t address his comments, just spat anger at Connor as he was ushered away. Just a few hours ago he was fine, you didn’t know what could’ve caused him to crash so hard since you’d last seen him.

“Like a fucking eight year old. You're an asshole.” Shiv speaks briefly before marching away, Roman still giggling at his own antics.

“It’s funny. It’s funny! You’re gonna laugh at it later.”

You moved to face your brother, pushing his shoulder back against the chair he had moved to sit in. “Clean your fucking act up. You do one thing right and think you can get away with anything. I love you, but don’t be so fucking stupid, Roman.” Your words seem to break through, he stops laughing for a minute to shoot you a dirty look. Not waiting to see his response, you turn and quickly walk towards the nearest exit of the area, pulling your phone out of your clutch to message your driver.

“Leaving?” Lukas’s voice next to you startles you, and you shoot him a weak smile.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I need to get out of here. I just can’t be near them right now.” He walks with you, humming in understanding as you speak.

“Why don’t you leave with me? Get your mind off them.” You stop walking then, now only a few yards from the exit of the venue. Crossing your arms, you lightly rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“If someone found out…”

“Think for yourself. Be impulsive for once.”

His words give you pause. Normally you would deny him, deny the aching between your thighs that his presence gave you. You’d head home and masturbate until you passed out, report to your Dad in the morning, never speak to the man again. But you were so, so tired of being good.

“Okay. Let’s do it. My driver’s here, we can pull around and pick you up in a few minutes.” Thinking quickly, you come up with a simple plan to stop the public from seeing you leave together. He nods, smiles, and reaches for your phone. You let him take it, let him put his number in and hand it back to you, fingers lingering on yours.

“Text me when you’re here.”

The ride to Lukas’s hotel room is intense. You have enough discretion to raise the divider between the front and back seats of the car, blocking the view of yourself from your driver. But once that black panel separated you, Mattson was merciless. He wasted no time in pulling you into his lap, kissing you roughly and palming your chest with his large hands. You barely came up for breath the entire ride to his hotel, and when you did your neck was immediately attacked. He marked your skin with hickeys and bites, leaving you gasping for air. Trying your best to quiet your moans and whimpers, you covered your mouth with your hand whenever you could, but you doubted your driver couldn’t hear the noises Lukas pulled from you. You tipped them an extra thousand dollars just in case.

He gave you a break while you hurried through the hotel, standing close to you but not touching you, even in the elevator. It gave you plausible deniability. Though if your reflection was any judge, the already darkening marks on your neck spoke for themselves. Mattson is so stoic in public it has you questioning if he even wants this. If he wants you the way that he did in the car. But, as he holds the door open for you to enter his hotel suite, your question is answered.

The hotel suite is modern, with several separate rooms adorned in black, white, and gray decorations. The farthest wall of the living room, the space you’ve walked into, consists of glass windows which offer a gorgeous view of the city’s nighttime lights. You take a moment to look around, throwing your clutch over to an entryway table and walking towards the windows. Your reflection is just barely visible in the glass, your silhouette a sliver of light against the darkness of the New York skyline. Your head tilts to the side a bit, and you reach a hand forward to press against the glass. Maybe it’s the alcohol in your bloodstream, or the lust making your heart beat faster than normal, but you don’t even notice Lukas approach until his reflection joins yours in the window. You look up and slightly behind you, catching his eyes with yours. His pupils are wide and dark, his lids heavy and narrowed with intent. 

He places a hand on your chin, tilting you up as he bends down to reach your lips. It starts soft, lips barely parted and eyes closed. Your body follows the tilt of your head, moving to face him and place your hands around his neck. His hands travel to your butt, using his leverage to press you against him. His tongue slips inside your mouth, his movements speed up. Hands begin to grope at your ass, squeezing and pawing you through your gown. It’s rough, but there’s no anger or malice behind his moments, only eagerness.

A hand moves up to the small of your back, lightly rubbing the fabric on your skin in an almost soothing motion. When you finally break the kiss for air, Lukas moves, nuzzling into the crook of your neck to place sloppy kisses there. You’re breathless, but craving his mouth so badly you direct his head back up to yours with a hand in his hair. He groans into your mouth when you press your chest against his, your boobs straining against your dress. The kisses become dirty and wet. He bites at your lower dip and pulls it a bit. You trace the roof of his mouth with your tongue. Your thighs are squeezing together now, softly grinding into each other to provide some kind of sensation to your throbbing clit. 

You finally say something when his hands move to pull up the skirt of your dress, breaking the kiss with an inhale for breath before quickly speaking.

“Wait, wait.” He does. Pauses his movements but keeps his fingers in the fabric of the dress. “I’m -I uh, haven’t had sex before. And I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m not dating. Or like, in a relationship with.” 

“Okay. Can I still make you cum?”

“Oh, um, sure. Yes.” He’s unfazed by your words, gives you a little smile and another messy kiss before dipping to kneel in front of you. He presses soft kisses to your lower stomach, just barely lifting your dress to expose the very bottom of your panties. When he moves to kiss the front of your mound though, you freeze.

“What are you doing?”

“I was planning on eating your pussy. Is that okay?”

“You want to do that?”

“I would like to, yes.”

“Uh, yeah, okay. I just haven't done this before.” He looks up at you with his piercing blue eyes, waiting until you give him a firm answer. “Can you maybe just tell me what you’re doing? Like, before you do it?”

“I can do that.”

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You smile down at him, blushing a bit in embarrassment from your lack of knowledge. He returns a small grin, before moving to kiss the front of your pubic bone again. This time, you let him.

He muzzles his nose into the fabric there briefly, before moving his fingers to rub against your panties. They’re soaked, drenched from your time in the car and the heavy making out you had just finished. He chuckles lowly to himself as he feels this, his touch featherlight.

“You’re so wet. Are you that turned on already?” You bite your lower lip and nod, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker.

“I’m going to touch you underneath your panties, is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He nods at you then, using his thumb to hook your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold night air. Two long fingers move on either side of your slit, giving pressure just outside of where you need it so badly. You whimper at his motions, muffling the sound by pressing your lips together. His index finger moves then, gently grazing over your clit as it travels the length of your vulva, collecting wetness as it does. A few gentle circles around your entrance before returning to your clit, finally pressing there and beginning to trace patterns into the bundle of nerves.

It feels divine. You’d gotten good at pleasing yourself with your twenty plus years of abstinence, but it felt so delicious to have someone else touch the most sensitive parts of your body. Especially someone who knew what they were doing. And from the way Lukas was moving, he knew exactly what he was doing. His index finger drew circles with your clit, joined shortly after by his middle finger to fully pressure the bud. Your head tips back then, brushing the window behind you as a moan escapes your mouth. 

“Don’t fight your noises, I want to hear how good you feel.” The only response you have to his command is to let another whine pass your lips, an action which you hear him groan at. Your fingers move down to grab at your dress, pulling it higher up to expose your bottom half fully, balling your hands into fists in the fabric.

“Fuck, I’m taking these off.” The pressure on your clit stops for a moment, and you lean your head down to look at him. His fingers loop in the sides of your panties to pull them down your thighs. As they reach your calves, you move a hand to his shoulder and stabilize yourself so you can raise your feet out of the garment. You step your last foot out of your panties, and instead of discarding them to the floor, Lukas balls the fabric up, stuffing it in his back pants pocket. He just smiles up at your confused expression, not bothering to explain.

“I’m going to taste you now, okay?”

You nod, and Lukas moves close to you, so close you end up with your back pressed against the window. He lightly holds one of your legs, moving it up and over his shoulder, allowing him better access to your now naked cunt. He leans forward, and with the flat of his tongue, licks a long stripe across your pussy. The feeling is new and exciting, hot and wet and just the right amount of strength. You move a hand to thread through his hair, your other one pressing against the glass behind you to hold you in place. 

His tongue fucks you like you’re his favorite taste, diving in and out of your already soaked folds. When he sucks your clit into his mouth, you choke back more of a scream than a moan. The leg on his shoulder begins to shake, and your brows knit together in ecstasy. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before, you don’t ever want it to stop. Your climax begins building at a rapid pace, and you feel yourself grinding against Lukas’s tongue, chasing your pleasure with impulsive motions. He lets out a low moan against you, a buzzing hum that vibrates through your body. 

“Fuck Lukas, please don’t stop.” The words come out breathless, followed by a whimper and preceded by a groan. He hums against you again and doubles his efforts, moving his tongue to fuck into your enterance while two fingers come up to rub quickly against your clit. It’s only a few seconds before the tension building in your stomach finally snaps, and with a languid moan you fall apart under Lukas Matsson’s tongue. 

You aren’t even sure what noises escape your lips, too lost in bliss to focus on anything but absolute pleasure. He keeps eating you out until you’re over sensitive and almost pushing his face away, and even then he continues lightly stroking your folds with a few fingers. When you look down at him, his chin is covered in your juices and his pants are tented with an obvious erection.

“Oh my god.”

“That good?” 

“Kiss me again?”

He does, of course. Raises from his knees to grab your chin and pull you into his body, not bothering to wipe his mouth before capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on him, tangy and rich and intoxicating. The flavor only spurs you on, pressing your lips to his roughy. He’s hard against your stomach, a feeling that both arouses you and causes some anxiety. Lukas seems content to kiss you forever, tasting your lips like a man starved. When he pulls away to kiss down your neck, you take a moment to speak.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I… want you to feel good too.” 

“You want to get me off?” You nod in response.

“Will you show me what to do? What you like?” 

“Sure. Here, come with me.” He smiles at you, grabs your hand with his, and gently leads you over to the couch in the room. It’s a big, white sectional facing a massive TV. Lukas moves to sit back against it, gently pulling you to sit close to him, nearly sitting in his lap. His erection is even more obvious in this position, his length looking painfully hard against his thigh.

“Can I touch you?” You look up at him with wide eyes, your hand moving to his thigh while you wait for a response. He leans back and nods at you, a slightly cocky grin on his face. Gently, so gently, your hand moves to palm over his cock. He hums as you make contact, quietly encouraging your timid rubbing. 

Fingers explore the imprint of his length in his pants, finger tracing the outline of his cock cautiously. You looked up at him through your lashes, noticing the way his face twitched and changed with your increases in pressure. Pressing a bit harder, you touch him with long strokes, beginning a pattern with your movements. Lukas’s tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. Something in his stare feels animalistic, like a predator watching its prey. Maybe that should scare you, but if anything it stirs you on, makes you want to please him even more.

“Will you take these off?” Your hands move to his waistband, finger slipping underneath the fabric there, pulling it teasingly from his skin. 

“Of course.” He smirks, uses the back of the couch to prop his hips up, and slowly pulls his pants down his thighs. He doesn’t bother with leaving his briefs, pulling his underwear off with the same motion, leaving only exposed skin in his wake. 

His cock springs up, brushing against his shirt slightly, leaving a small wet spot from the precum on his tip. He’s long, not that you have much to compare it to, and thin, with a red-pink head already leaking. You take a moment to touch him again, slowly sliding your hand across the skin of his thigh until your fingers graze the short blonde hairs at the base of his shaft. Your hand wraps around him, fingers barely touching. His dick is double the length of your hand, standing tall with a slight curve upwards. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t intimidated. Slowly, eyes flickering from Lukas’s face to your hand and back again, you began to stroke him. Your hand gently raised from his base to tip, your thumb grazing over his slit. This elicits a soft gasp from Lukas, a sound that makes you give him a shy smile. The hand on his cock moves back down, your other moving to rest gently on his thigh as you slightly adjust to face him better. Your motions are stuttering and unpracticed, hindered by the dryness of both your skin. Lukas doesn’t seem to mind, his breath coming faster and his hips slightly moving to guide the travel of your hand. 

“I think…” You bite your lower lip in thought, your eyebrows coming together as your sentence trails off. Bending over Lukas’s lap slightly, you look up at him through your dark eyelashes, and let a string of spit fall from your tongue onto his cock. 

The effect on him is immediate, a deep curse falling from his lips as his dick twitches in your grip. His head falls back against the couch, his eyes shut softly. You don’t know if it’s the sensation of the spit on his sensitive tip, or the fact that you were doing something so dirty, but he seems to love your impulsive choice. Your hand gets into a better rhythm, moving much easier as you spread the wetness across the skin of his cock.

“Fuck, how did you know about that?” Lukas is breathless, but still chuckling through his words. 

“I didn't, it just seemed like you needed something wet…” 

He curses again, hums in agreement. You just blush in response, moving your attention back to his length in front of you. Your grip tightens, your motions speed up a bit. The sound of skin fills the room, joined by low hums and moans from Lukas’s throat. The heat between your thighs begins to return, a dull throb causing you to grind your thighs together.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice is quiet and laced with desire when you speak.

“Mhm.” A lazy grin is on Lukas’s face, his arms are spread wide across the back of the couch. “You’re doing so good.”

The compliment goes straight to your cunt, sparks traveling down your thighs at the praise. You move faster, leaning into him more as your hand speeds up, giving him a view of your cleavage. You don’t even notice the desperate whimper that escapes you, but he does.

“Just like that, fuck. Good. Good girl.” Lukas sits up more, a hand moving rest on your thigh as his body begins to tense up. His eyebrows pull together as you continue stroking. Your motions have gotten rough and fast, a physical exhibition of the desperation running through your veins. A string of curses heavily veiled in a Swedish accent leaves Lukas’s mouth, his hips buck roughly into your fist, and with a groan, Lukas Mattson comes in your hand.

Strings of white coats your skin, the fabric of your skirt, the bottom of Lukas’s shirt. He continues thrusting into your hand, chasing his release until he falls against the couch, panting and smiling and spent. Your eyes travel from his face to the ribbons of come on your hand. Instinctually, you bring it to your mouth, licking up the liquid before your thoughts get in the way. 

“You are insane.” Lukas’s voice brings you back to the world. He reaches over and guides you to move into his lap. You straddle him, his softening cock sandwiched between your torsos. He’s all smiles, face blissed out and eyes soft. He brings a hand to your chin, looking into your eyes before placing a surprisingly light kiss to your lips. 

Things are quiet for a moment, your head tucked into Lukas’s neck and his hands around the small of your back. It feels delicate, almost loving, almost corny. It partially scares you, being so intimate with someone you’ve just met, with someone so powerful. But the captivation outweighs the fear. He feels like the Earth; strong, devoted, all-consuming. You could try to leave but he would be everywhere, and you would come back to him.

You stay at Lukas’s that night, wrapped in white sheets with his arm thrown languidly across your waist. In the morning, he tells you that’s the best he’s slept in weeks. You let him see you with smeared makeup and messy hair, listen to him talk about Stockholm and pasta and the sun. He texts you to make sure you get home safe, then texts you a photo of him working on his laptop. You can’t help the smile that comes to your face when you talk to him, one so obvious you have to hide it in public. He calls you every night. 

It’s the closest you’ve come to a relationship, even if it’s something you need to hide from the world. He’s funny and weird and bold and drastic. You feel his hands on your skin in your dreams, like your body is a memory of his touch. He makes you happy, makes you perverted. Things move fast and slow at the same time. It’s confusing and clear all at once.

You’d choose it all over again if you could go back

© secondhand-snow 2024

[wambsgansshoelaces]

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

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

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

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

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

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

Word Count: 2.181k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

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

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

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

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

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

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t take very long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

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

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

“Yeah. I do.”