#kendall roy fanfiction

[hunzzzzz]

Fight for you - Chapter 3 : The exes

Kendall Roy x original female character

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

A/N : okay so this is really long 11k+ words I’m sorry. I was gonna write it in 2 parts but it just needed to be all together !! Please let me know what you think! Some constructive criticism!

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

I had managed to successfully avoid him all morning, the distance was necessary, my mind goes to mush when he's close, all logic flies out the window. At around lunch time, I heard a light tap on my door, my heart skipped a beat as my mind went to Kendall, but to my luck it was Steve. Myself and Steve had gotten close over the years, I considered him my closest friend at Waystar. We oversaw many projects together, bounced ideas off of each other. We had synergy, he was the only person in the entire department who didn't see me as the enemy. He wasn't trying to stab me in the back at any given chance, instead we wholeheartedly supported each other.

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

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

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

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

“So what's up with you.” he smirked. “I hear you're entangled with Kendall Roy?” 

“Oh god. So that's spread." I groaned, this is exactly what I was afraid of when he showed up on the 9th floor yesterday unannounced. “He's actually insufferable.” I felt guilty for lying, but what else was I supposed to say, admit that I indulged in a steamy makeout with the COO of our company the night before, over my dead body. “He's so invested in my project, it was so random, I think he's just trying to prove something to his father.” I shrugged nonchalantly trying to ignore my rapid heartbeat.

“Mhm, invested in the project or invested in you?” he questioned, wiggling his eyebrows.

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

“Yeah good, I thought maybe you were going through a midlife crisis. He's bad news, don't get caught up in it.” He warned me. After my previous relationship almost ended me, Steve had grown quite protective of me like an older brother I never had. 

“I appreciate the concern. Thank you, but I promise you that will never happen. I'm just keeping my head down, working on this project with him. The sooner it's done, the sooner he'll be off my back.” I reassured Steve, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Okay, okay good. You know I worry about you." I nodded appreciating his advice. “But now that I have you here, I need a favour.”

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

“Jesus woman, will you let me finish.” He cut me off rolling his eyes. “I was going to ask if you would accompany me to the Waystar charity Gala tonight.” He finished looking up at me with his beaming eyes. “Please, Catherine’s not in the city this week and I need a pretty lady on my arm if I'm going to beg for donations.” He pleaded. 

“Fuck no. I hate those events. Sorry Steve but it's a hard pass.” I said, my voice firm.

“Please Harper, I’ll owe you one. Lunch on me for the next year.'' I sighed, agreeing to go, seeing as he was so desperate. It's the least I could do to repay him for the endless favours he had done for me. Staying late at the office helping pick up my slack, covering for me when I took time off work because my relationship hit the rocks.

We made our way back to work, after an hour of much needed catching up on office drama. Walking through the lobby of the main building still giggling. “Yup and now she’s pregnant, and she's keeping it.” Steve chuckled.

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

I straightened myself up as I saw a familiar face approaching. “What's so funny.” Kendall asked, his eyes fixated to my hand on Steve's arm, which I immediately dropped. His eyes flashing with anger, possibly even jealousy? Steve wasn't unattractive, he was a conventionally good looking guy, he was tall with broad shoulders. I know the women on the 9th floor swoon over him, running to make copies for him with the snap of his fingers, waiting by the door with his coffee in hand every morning. But to me he was just Steve, the guy who burps in my face after inhaling a burger or comes to me with his endless relationship problems. 

“Nothing.” I quickly said, sobering up from my lunch high, trying to sound professional. 

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

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

 Kendall finally released from the handshake and turned to me pressing his lips together before speaking. “Could I grab you for a second Harper,” as if I had a choice in the matter, so much for trying to avoid him today. 

“Yeah sure, Steve go ahead, I’ll meet you up there.” Steve furrowed his brows, but didn’t press any further though he wanted to, giving a curt nod and with that he left.

Kendall guided me to a quiet corner, his hand on the small of my back, I swatted his hand away weary of the people standing by. The last thing I needed was more rumours going around about me. People were just beginning to forget that I was the sad, pathetic woman whose fiance had an affair with her best friend. He stood across me, his face hard, jaw clenched, not saying a word

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

“I thought you didn't go out for lunch? Fucking- with your, uh endless piles of work and what not?” he questioned crossing his arms together, eyes burning into mine. 

“First of all not that it's even any of your business but I had some free time today. And secondly I couldn't say no to Steve, I owed him one.”  I shrugged, putting on a front, even though he had caught me in my lie. 

“Uh-huh. You owed him one?” he questioned, brows raised. Like this was an interrogation and I was some kind of criminal on the loose. 

“Dont worry about it.” I sighed just wanting to be done with this already. “Okay if that is all, then I really have to get back.” I tried to step past him to leave, but he blocked my way, forcing me to stay put.

“No, actually I did want to ask you something.” He cleared his throat, a flash of nervousness breaking through his hard eyes. “I was wondering if you would accompany me to the charity gala tonight?”

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

“Who?” he asked, as he shook his head in disbelief. “Is it that fucking- uh, stewart guy?

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

The rest of the day flew by, as I powered through work, knowing I had to leave early to prepare for the gala. On the way home I stopped by a boutique, deciding to splurge on a dress. I had to dress to impress if I was going to help Steve land some donations tonight. Picking out a dress took more time than I had intended, I wanted to look good tonight, not for anyone in particular. Though the thought of Kendall kept creeping its way into my mind, which gown would he like? I wondered if he preferred red or black. No this is not about him, I tried to convince myself that I wanted to look good, feel sexy, for myself and not for the approval of anybody else. 

I rushed home cutting it close to 7 pm, I quickly showered and began getting ready. I decided to straighten my thick black hair which was a mistake as I was running short on time, Steve was picking me up at 8. I could already hear him complaining about my tardiness. I finished doing my makeup, adding a deep red lipstick. I slipped into my gown adjusting myself in the mirror. I had decided on wearing a black satin gown, with a deep plunge neckline. I can't remember the last time I put in this much effort for an event, or a person. I hated myself for caring so much about it. I heard my phone dinging alerting me that Steve had arrived. 

Steve : Uber. Downstairs. Now. Hurry. 

I hurriedly grabbed my valentino clutch, which I had thrifted when I first moved to the city, throwing my phone, cigarettes and lipstick in before scurrying out the door. I made my way out of the lobby and hopped into the uber greeting steve. 

“God could you have taken any longer.” he sighed dramatically, checking the time. “It's 8:05, what time did we agree on?”

“Calm your tits, the dinosaurs can wait 5 more minutes.” I rolled my eyes, checking my makeup in my compact mirror.

Steve finally looked over, taking in my appearance. “You clean up well. It's almost like an episode of catfish, you went from 0 to 100 in the span of a couple hours.” he chuckled. “Who are you looking this good for?” he smirked.

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

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

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

We shortly arrived at the venue, it was bustling with people who were much more important than me, people who could step on me and nobody would even protest, because among them I was the floor they walked on. I looked around at the sea of women wearing designer dresses from fendi to dior as they clutched an arm around men almost triple their age. Steve immediately began mingling, or as he called it networking, dragging me along with him. He grabbed us 2 complimentary champagnes from the wait staff as he began speaking to an older gentleman. 

“Mr Monroe, glad you could join us tonight. Where's the Mrs?” Steve greeted him as they shook hands. 

“Oh you know Mrs Monroe, she was in the Bahamas last and now I'm hearing she's in Milan for fashion week. She won't rest until she bleeds me dry from all I’m worth.” He forced a tight smile. “And who's your lovely date here?” He asked, glancing over at me before dropping his eyes down to my chest, lingering there for a moment. The urge to vomit all over him was so strong, but instead I brought my hand to shake his instead. 

“This is my dear friend Harper, Harper Aly.” Steve introduced me as the older man grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss it, with no consent whatsoever. My stomach churned at the thought of this married man assaulting my hand with his mouth. I quickly pulled my hand back to my side, forcing a laugh as Steve continued talking business. 

This continued for another hour, we moved through the crowd of prehistoric men, buttering them up as they objectified me, raked their eyes up and down my body as they licked their crusty lips. I was on my 4th glass of champagne, but I needed something stronger if I was going to make it through the night. Steve handed me his card as I made my way over to the bar. I waved a hand to the bartender trying to get his attention, but he was preoccupied serving the other 100 people gathered around. I found myself glancing around, hoping to see a familiar set of brown eyes. I was acting like a lovestruck teenager at prom hoping to lock eyes with her crush.

“What can I get ya princess?” I turned to put a face to the voice, shocked when I realised who it was. “Yes, take it in.”

“Oh uhm it's okay thank you. I got it.” I smirked, flashing Steve’s card.  

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

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

“So what brings a fine piece of arm candy like yourself here tonight? Let me guess your sugar daddy promised you a new Birkin?” He smirked, as his eyes raked over my dress. 

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

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

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

“Oh no, its okay i can get my own-”

“Just fucking tell him what you want or you’re fired.” He said cutting me off with a devilish grin, I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

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

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

“You can put away daddy’s card princess, I got this.” He said, his voice was low as he leaned into my ear. I looked around trying to find his sister who seemed to have him on a leash but she was engaged in a conversation with someone else. “Are you scared? I don’t bite.” He chuckled with dark eyes. “But no promises.” 

“No I'm not scared, sorry if my repulsion has been misconstrued.” I replied with a scowl setting on my face.

“Ouch.” He chuckled. “Don't forget, I still own the company you’re at the bottom of princess.”

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

“Dont fucking turn me on right now.” He joked, biting his lip.

“Oh my god you're so repulsive.” I laughed.

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

“I dont fucking know maybe- have you checked the bathrooms? He's probably there snorting lines?” He shrugged casually.

“Rome. I'm serious.” She said, pressing her lips into a straight line. She finally caught my eye, brushing off Roman’s crude words, forcing a smile, silently looking over to him to introduce us.

“Uh yea sure- Rava, Harper Aly from waystar, I don’t know what the fuck she does there- I’m guessing janitor by her looks. Harper, Rava Roy, my brother's estranged wife.” He said flatly, before grabbing his drinks, throwing two hundred dollar bills on the counter, and with that he was gone— leaving me alone with kendall's wife? I stood there gobsmacked, processing the nuclear bomb Roman had just dropped on me. Kendall was married. Kendall was married when he kissed me on the roof. 

I quickly excused myself, not wanting to seem rude to the woman whose husband I had been sneaking around with, behind her back. I grabbed Steve and I’s drinks from the counter, chugging them both down as I made my way through the hall. I passed a waiter discarding my empty glasses on the tray and grabbing 2 glasses of god knows what, before downing them. Feeling the alcohol burn down my throat, hoping it would bring me some solace. My mind was the aftermath of Hiroshima. I couldn't think straight, or even walk straight for that matter. How could I have been so fucking stupid, tears pricked at my eyes, as I rapidly blinked trying to fight them back. How could I have trusted so blindly, again. At last I spotted Steve sitting down at our table, I made my way over to him trying to swallow back the lump in my throat. Not wanting to raise concern and a million questions he would ask. I slumped down in the seat beside him. 

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

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

“What's wrong?” He asked, shit he knew me too well and could sense that something was wrong. “Did you see someone?” He studied the slight tremble in my voice, my flushed skin, my lips curled into a frown.

“No, nothing.” I shook my head vigorously, trying to seem convincing. “I'm just tired.” I offered him a weak smile, hoping he wouldn't hear the slight slur in my voice. He just stared at me, contemplating whether to push it or not but ultimately decided against it. 

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

“What? I didn't hear you?” I slurred, looking up at him with heavy eyelids, at this point I’m sure he knew I was quite intoxicated as I propped my head up against my hand, trying to accommodate my dense head, now facing the consequences of trying to drown my sorrows in liquor. 

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

“I think you should slow down.” He said, eyeing me as I continued to sip my wine. I chose to ignore him, until he forcefully took my half empty glass off me, handing it off to a passing waiter, cutting me off before I could protest. “Look I don’t know what’s going on with you or why you decided to get to this level of drunk at a work event. But we need to make it through to the end of the night.” He scolded, as he handed me a glass of water. “You can have more wine after dinner.”

“Whatever dad.” I rolled my eyes but still sipped on the water.

The speeches dragged on, but I wasn't listening to a single word of it, instead my mind was heavy, weighed down by concrete thoughts of one of one man and his betrayal. How he had manipulated me, how he had convinced me he was good, different. How I let myself believe him so easily. Had I learned nothing? I continued to berate myself. I snapped out of my thoughts, as the last speaker made his way onto the stage, and there he was. The very man responsible for my mental anguish. His eyes met mine, twinkling under the spotlight as he spoke. I couldn't take it anymore, I got up mumbling to Steve that I was going to the bathroom. I stumbled my way out of the long hall, ignoring the questioning looks I was receiving.

I made my way to the bathroom, slumping over the sink, collecting my thoughts, as I stared into the mirror taking in my pathetic reflection. God, I was so embarrassing, letting Kendall affect me like this. Letting him slither his way into my life like black mould, silent but deadly. The realisation hit me hard - I was the other woman. I let him sweep me off my feet, like a fucking idiot, but maybe that was his plan all along. A challenge in his eyes, he found a wounded bird, nurtured it back to life only to shoot it down in the end for his own enjoyment. I scoffed at myself, spending more than I could afford on a gown for him, a fact I wouldn't even admit to myself let alone another soul. The anger simmered in me like a pressure cooker, ready to blow any second. My self pity was quickly replaced by foul, hot fury. Fuck him. 

With newfound determination, I left the bathroom, determined to rid myself of Kendall's toxic presence. Yet, fate had other plans for me. As I made my way back towards the hall I collided with a broad set of shoulders.

“Oh- I'm so sorry-” I began to apologise but the words got cut off in my throat when I locked eyes with the attacker, my fucking ex-fiancé, Will. This was officially too much for one night. Without another word I turned on my feet and fled in the other direction, I needed to get away from him. What was he even doing here in the first place? I knew I was eventually  going to bump into him one day, it was inevitable, but just why tonight? When I was barely hanging on by a thread. This must have been the heads up Steve was trying to give me.              

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

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

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

“Yeah, you and my fucking so called bestfriend.'' I spat, the endless liquid poison I had consumed amplifying my rage. My words seemed to cut through the air like a knife, drawing the attention of those around us. “Will I’m being so fucking serious, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’m going to fucking scream and make a scene right here, right now.” 

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

Will's eyes hardened as he pushed my arm out of his grasp, I tumbled back from the force, Kendall quickly steadied me bringing a hand to my waist, as Will sulked his way back into the hall. I ripped Kendall’s arm off me with a huff and began making my way outside, almost tripping, ignoring his calls from behind. I was beginning to get a tension headache, it was all too much now. My ex-fiance cornered me and tried to tell me I was to blame for his affair and to pile on top of that Kendall, my boss had involved me in an affair, while failing to mention he was married. The cold air nipped at my skin as I continued pacing, with no direction, but I couldn't stay there for a second longer. I felt suffocated with my thoughts.

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

“Leave me alone Kendall.” I shouted picking up my pace, but it was hard to do so  in my heels. He's the last person I wanted to see right now. I was a couple blocks away from the venue now.

“Just wait up- fuck. What's wrong?” He asked, concern etched on his face. I was so sick of people asking me that. No I’m fucking not fine, my life is falling apart at a rate so fast that I can’t even pick up the pieces and try to repair it. Each time I attempted to pick up one piece, three more came crashing down. 

He grabbed my aching wrist, that had just been assaulted by Will in an attempt to stop me. I flinched sucking in a sharp breath and he immediately let go. “Did he hurt you?” His eyes were two angry black points, his fists clenched by his side as he watched me try to soothe the pain away, rubbing my wrist with my good hand.

“Did he fucking hurt me? What about you kendall?” I lashed out, jabbing my finger in his chest. “What about you? Oh but of course you would never hurt me right? Because you’ve convinced me that you're such a great guy, always coming to my rescue. Is that what you want to hear?” He shook his head trying to understand where my aggression was coming from, how long did he think he could keep up the lie for? How long did he think he could keep this from me? “Fuck off and have a nice life with your wife.” I turned around and took off again, not wanting to hear whatever explanation he was going to pull out of his ass.

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

“That's great, go tell your wife.”

“Harper please- just fuck- just wait a second.” He persisted, running ahead of me and planting himself in front of me, towering over me. “My wife and I-”

“Kendall, I don't want to hear it. And I honestly don't care what you have to say. Nothing is going to change the fact that you're married. There's nothing for you to explain. So please just go.” I said exasperated, letting out a deep breath, closing my eyes not wanting to even look at his face. Bitter tears escaped from the corners of my eyes as my lips quivered. I hated myself for crying, I didn’t want him to think I was hurt by him, it was tears of frustration encouraged by my drunken mind. “This was all a mistake. You were such a mistake.” 

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

“That doesn't mean anything to me. You don't mean anything to me.” I said, looking away from him, crossing my arms over my chest shivering, as the wind picked up. I felt him gently place his blazer around my shoulders. “It doesn't matter if you're separated, Kendall, you still should have told me.” l said, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands.

“I thought you knew. Everybody knows.” He exhaled, running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“It doesn't matter, because whatever this thing between us is, or was. It's done.” I sniffled, looking up at him with flaming eyes. His face was crumpled up like a used tissue, as the blood drained from his face, he stood still for a second.

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

“Ofcourse I’m fucking afraid, I’m fucking terrified. Kendall in what world do we make it out of this on top? You are still my boss, this can't happen. Think about what people will say if they find out. Any accomplishment I've ever made will only be seen as because I was sleeping with the boss." I strained to explain, my voice cracking. “I've worked too hard to get to where I am. I've scraped my way up from the bottom. So I can't have this tarnish my reputation. Us even speaking right now is inappropriate, anyone could see this and report it to HR.” I didn't expect him to understand my predicament at all, he comes from money, I don't. We live in different worlds. His is full of private jet rides, maids, chefs, his biggest worry is trying to take over his father’s company. My world is subway rides, living off of cheap coffee and struggling to make rent each month.

“Harper, you don't have to worry about any of that, I promise you. I'll take care of you. I am HR, everything goes through me.” He argued softly grabbing my hands, his soft eyes boring into mine, the street lights illuminating them to appear a lighter haze colour. “If you want this, I can make it work. We can make it work.” Could we make it work? If he and his wife are separated, it still won’t be easy. Their lives will still remain entangled until they officially divorce. Will they even get divorced, what if they reconcile? The thoughts swirled in my head as I weighed out the pros and cons. 

“I need another drink.” I muttered taking in his words.

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

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

“Okay.” He thought for a moment, I could practically see the gears turning in his mind, trying to find a way to keep me close to him. “Let's go back to my place, my chef can make us something to eat, since we're missing dinner.” I pressed my lips together, conflicted. Despite the allure of food and drinks, my heart pounded with uncertainty. The idea of returning to his place filled me with a sense of unease, a nagging voice of caution whispering in the back of my mind. Everything was happening so quickly, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to dive headfirst into the unknown. My stomach churned with hunger, a reminder of the alcohol swirling in my system, clouding my judgement. Food did sound appealing, but the thought of being alone with Kendall in the intimate setting of his home made me shift uncomfortably. It felt like too much, too soon. As I hesitated, my mind drifted back to our kiss, replaying the moment over and over again in my mind, as it burned in my core. I longed for his touch, for the warmth of his embrace, despite the complications and risks. 

“I also have a fully stocked bar.” He added, and all my nervous thoughts seemed to melt away. It was the final push I needed, the reassurance that I could drown my doubts in a haze of alcohol, numbing myself to the reality of our situation.

“Lead the way.” I nodded with a tentative smile 

“My driver is around back.” He said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and leading me to the car. He opened the door for me, “Ladies first.” 

“You are so cringe.” I laughed sliding in, before he sat next to me, shutting the door behind him. He was pressed up beside me, arm now around my waist, hand resting on my hip, his knee squished against mine. He put the partition up.

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

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks at his compliment, a warmth spreading through me despite my efforts to remain composed. "Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened as he continued to study me, his gaze filled with a mixture of admiration and something else, something I couldn't quite place. "I've been wanting to tell you that all night, from the minute you stepped foot into the hall." He confessed. "When I was making my speech, I could barely focus seeing you sat there, looking like- like a fucking godess."

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

“Because I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself if you were standing in front of me in that hall.” His voice was low, in my ear sending waves of heat down my spine, aching in between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, trying to control myself. He brought a hand to my jaw cradling it, “you're so fucking perfect.” He whispered, before crashing his lips into mine, the kiss was deep yet rough. He sucked my bottom lip as I let out a low moan, his hands roaming around my body like they had a fucking free pass, he squeezed my ass, earning another moan from me. The mixture of alcohol and lust in my system gave me the sudden confidence to pull him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck, battling with his tongue for dominance. 

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

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

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

“Fuck.” He sighed, his eyes were dark. “You have no idea what you're doing to me right now.” 

He lead me out of the elevator, unlocking the door to his penthouse, leaning down to place a peck on my lips. He guided me to the kitchen. I was in awe of the size of it, covered in shining black marble, not a speck of dust in sight. Across from the kitchen, the sitting room had floor to ceiling glass windows wrapping around the entire length of the apartment. I stood there admiring the view for a minute.

“Shit I sent the chefs home tonight because I had intended to stay out for dinner.” Kendall sighed leaning against the counter, shooting me an apologetic look. 

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

“Yes, that I do have.” He laughed walking to the small bar area in the corner of the kitchen. There were endless shelves stocked with every type of spirit. Brands I couldn’t even pronounce, brands that I never even gave a second glance to in the liquor store, because I knew they were not in my price range. There was freshly cut lemons and limes, an ice bucket, a mini fridge stocked with mixers. So this is what heaven looks like. I climbed up over the counter, Kendall supporting my hips up to help lift me, I landed ungracefully on the other side with a thud. “What are you doing?” Kendall chuckled looking down at me amused.

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

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

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

“Add it to my tab.” He smiled while taking a sip. ”And what will the beautiful lady be drinking?”

“Hmmm I’ve been drinking gin tonight, but why not spice it up with some whiskey.” I made myself a drink identical to Kendalls, taking a sip to admire my hard work and almost gagged as the corrosive liquid burned down my throat. “That is fucking horrible, how are you drinking it.” I gagged again, thinking it was a good idea to smell it and let it burn my nose too. 

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

The coke made it a bit more bearable, but it still tasted like nail polish remover. I climbed over the bar again to seat myself on the barstool beside him. Taking another sip of my drink, scrunching my nose in disgust. “I don't know why you and your brother like this so much.”

“Oh so you met Roman?” He cocked an eyebrow. “I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

“Yea he's- uh interesting to say the least.” Thinking back to the gala, I remembered Steve. “Oh shit, the gala- I ditched my date- fuck. One second.” I frantically pulled my phone out seeing the endless messages from Steve asking if I was okay, and where I had gone. I let him know that I had a run in with Will and was back home safe and sound, before turning my attention back to Kendall who had a quizzical look on his face.

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

“Fuck no, my date was Steve. The guy outside….” I trailed off trying to put into less vulgar terms. “...was my ex-fiance.” I grimaced and tilted my head back and downed the remainder of my whiskey. Kendall watched mouth agape, reaching over bringing the bottle of whiskey and coke from the counter, realising this was a difficult conversation for me. “I don't even know what he was doing there.” I ran a hand through my hair, propping my elbow on the counter and resting my head against it. Kendall refilled my glass, which I thanked him for.  

“Let me see your wrist.” He demanded, holding his hand out, gently inspecting the redness around my skin, he brought it to his lips kissing all over. I crossed my legs trying to stop the ache that had reawoken between my legs. He massaged my delicate wrist, I wished he would sooth my throbbing core like that. “Did he hurt you anywhere else?” There was darkness in his eyes, his teeth were clenched, but his touch was so soft, making me want him all the more.

I shook my head, taking another gulp of my drink. “Not physically at least, so it's fine.” I waved it off, not waiting to dwell on Will's malignant existence any longer. “So uh, how much money did you  raise tonight?” I cleared my throat changing the topic. 

“No fucking clue.” He chuckled, as he refilled his drink. “My family is gonna be pissed that I ditched. You're a bad influence on me.” He teased.

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

“Uh-huh, well you shouldn't have gone with him in the first place.” He huffed frustrated. “If you went with me, I would have made sure no one came within a 10 metre radius of you, your glass would have never been empty, and nobody would dare let their eyes linger on you for more than a second if you were on my arm.” His cockiness was reappearing, except instead of my usual repulsion, it turned me on and I hated it. Hearing him talk like this was sweet music to my ears, making my insides dance.

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

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

We continued chatting about general stuff like work, what our interests were, how life was going. Kendall getting deep and telling me about his family, his childhood, his goals in life. He pried, trying to get to know more about me and I reluctantly gave him a few short responses about my personal life. We ended up on the sofa, comfortably sat next to each other, shoulders brushing against one another. I leaned back in the seat resting my eyes, as the room began to spin slightly. Kendall took another swig from the bottle, we had long ditched our glasses on the counter. The conversation drifted back to our exes, I was too drunk to even hold back this time, as was Kendall.

He handed the bottle back to me. “Yea- being married fucking sucks so much.” He said throwing his arms up exasperated. “I fucking married the wrong person. But at the time, I was like fuck yea this feels fucking right.”

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

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

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

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

“What like- don’t tell me you’re still- like in love with her.” I asked, letting out an overly dramatic sigh, rolling my eyes.

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

“Mhmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so fucking right.” I gasped, his words making complete sense in my barely functioning brain. “Like college romance needs to be banned. Like stop fucking around and open like a book or something.” We continued talking about everything and anything, coming up with our own philosophies that were so illogical but they made sense to us. Between us we shared one singular brain cell, after consuming an unhealthy amount of whiskey.

Wanting to put my feet up on the sofa, I attempted to unbuckle the straps of my heels, but failed miserably. I let out an exasperated sigh, lying back on the sofa and stretching my legs, bringing my feet to rest in his lap. “Can you get these off please.” I whined almost knocking over the bottle of whiskey which I had carelessly left on his white sofa. He picked it up  and placed it on the coffee table. 

“Fuck- why is there so many fucking buckles.” He grumbled as he attempted to undo the singular buckle, concentrating like he was deactivating a bomb. He gave up and brought it up to his mouth, tugging at it with his teeth, letting my aching foot free, his hot breath on my skin sent an electric shock up my leg. He did the same with the other foot. Before looking over to me with a sinister grin and started tickling me.

“KENDALL stop.” I shrieked sitting up, thrashing and kicking away his hands. Attempting to get my revenge I brought my fingers to his neck tickling him, as he squirmed under me, I was practically straddling him. He grabbed both my hands in his, realising the compromising position we were in, feeling him hardening under me, I grabbed his neck, closing the gap between us. He kissed me back with hunger, like he had been deprived of food and water for years. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth. His touch was more rough now, as his hands gripped and caressed my ass, kneading it like fine dough. He pulled me closer to the pine scent of his body, a cigarette smoked not so long ago lingering on his shirt. I began subconsciously grinding my hips against the tent in his pants, trying desperately to create some friction to soothe my throbbing centre. His warm hands slid under the skirt of my dress, rubbing them up and down my thighs, inching them higher each time. His fingers were getting dangerously close to my soaking panties, my breath hitched. Feeling my body tense against his, he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

“Kendall ….” I said breathless, looking down, feeling embarrassment wash over me. “I- I haven’t done this in a while. Like in a really, really long time actually.” 

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

“I’m just nervous.”

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

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

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

“No-no I want this. I want you. Can we just take it slow.” Yet the realisation was prominent, that there would be no going back, once I went through with it. But at that moment I wasn’t thinking clearly, I didn’t care, I just wanted him.

His gaze relaxed moderately as he soothed his hands up and down my back, almost as if to assure himself of the words he had just heard. His lips met mine again, he got up from the sofa, hoisting me up, I instinctively wrapped my legs around his hips as he carried me to his room. The anticipation of what was to come overwhelmed me, my heart beating out of my chest. He gently placed me on the bed, lying me down on my back as he hovered over me, lips not leaving mine once. I traced his firm chest with my fingertips, drawing him into me. He began kissing down my neck, smiling against my skin as I let out a soft moan. Leaving a trail of kisses down to my cleavage. My dress shielded my breasts, nipples already hard through the fabric.

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

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

“Kendall.” I gasped as he bit and nipped at my scorching skin. His free hand moved down from my hip to caress my inner thigh, ghosting over my panties. “Kendall please.” I begged, so needy for his touch, spreading my legs wider for him, grinding my hips up. 

He unlatched his mouth from my breast. “Is this okay?” He locked eyes with me as his hand rubbed up and down over the soaked fabric. 

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

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

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

“What do you want, baby? Tell me.” He was enjoying this, a lazy smile playing at his lips as he watched me squirm. His eyes burned into mine, seeing me so needy for him, so desperate for his touch. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Come on, use your words.” I should've known that he would make me beg, I should've known that he would be so good to me.

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

“I need to taste you, let me taste you.” He pleaded, getting on his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed. He hiked my dress up to my waist, hooking his fingers under my panties and pulling them down my legs, revealing my smooth freshly shaven pussy. I sat up feeling self conscious. “It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you.” He murmured, pressing a hand down on my chest to lay me back down. “Let me take care of you.” He began kissing up my inner thigh, gripping his hands firmly around my hips holding me in place. He worked his way closer and closer, eventually leaning in ever so slowly and licked all the way up my slit, tasting me. My eyes fluttered shut as he placed his hot mouth on my clit, sucking it like a pacifier, the fuzz of his stubble tickling me lightly. I could feel the pressure building up inside me, I ran my hands through this hair grasping it softly as he continued lapping his tongue up and down my slit greedily, fucking me with his tongue. His tongue travelled lower and lower, gently grazing over my tight rosebud.

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

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

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

“Yes, please- please make me feel good.” I begged between gasps. He gripped my ass, spreading my cheeks apart, to give himself more access as continued to worship my tight pink bud. The sensation felt different, unlike anything I had experienced before but it felt so good. His index finger rubbed soothing circles around my pink hole.

“Do you trust me?” 

I looked down at him, seeing his face buried between my thighs. “Yes- yess fuck I do Kendall.” I panted. 

He opened his mouth letting a string of spit fall down and pool down on my rosebud and slid his finger into my tight hole. “Just relax baby.” He murmured.

“Kendall.” I whimpered at the foreign sensation, it hurt so good. My quivering walls grasped his finger tightly at first adjusting to the intrusion, but soon his finger glided deep in my ass. I was grinding my hips against him, my aching cunt deprived of his attention. I needed him everywhere all at once. He brought his face back to my dripping pussy, devouring me, sucking every crease, crevice and fold before latching onto my clit again. He alternated between fast and slow flicks of affection, using his free hand to pump 2 digits in my dripping wet cunt.

Hearing the sounds of his wet tongue on me continued building up the pressure in my lower abdomen, getting tighter and tighter. My senses heightened and my hands desperately fisted the bed sheets, sweat sheening my brow. “You're so close aren't you sweet girl? Cum on my face.” His dirty talk, sending me over the edge, my back arching into him.

“Oh fuck- Kendall.” I choked out throwing my head back, eyes rolling to the back of my head. My mind exploded in a white, pleasure filled haze as the sensations from his relentless assault on my clit and his finger plunged in my forbidden orifice all while simultaneously pumping 2 digits in my cunt. Grabbing a fist full of his hair, grinding my hips against his face, I rode out my high. Legs trembling, my ass spasmed clenching around his finger as he continued to fuck me though my orgasm, he hummed in satisfaction against my clit. He removed his hands from me, placing one final tender kiss on my sensitive clit, making me jump.

He brought his face back up to my crimson cheeks and eyes glossy. He caressed my face as I panted for air, my chest heaving. “You did so good, baby.” He cooed, stroking my hair, as I came down back to Earth. He placed a tender kiss on my lips, making me taste myself against his lips. 

I regained some composure bringing my shaky hands up and palming at his hardness through his pants. “Fuck.” He groaned burying his head into my neck. I hastily undid his belt buckle, he helped me shimmy his trousers and boxers off, his cock sprung out bouncing against his stomach. I wriggled out from under him, flipping us over to straddle him, rubbing my wetness against his dick. “Fucking so good baby.” He sat up, undoing my zipper with a quick motion of his fingers and tossing my dress over his shoulder. I was fully exposed now, I felt so naked, so bare in front of him as I covered my face with my hands, feeling so small. He brought my hands down, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “You just came on my face, don't get shy on me now.” He smirked.

“Shut up.” I rolled my eyes and began undoing the buttons on his shirt, and threw it on the ground. Bringing my fingers to his thick cock, a few veins ran up his shaft, the swollen pink head dripping with precum at the sight of me. I started pumping him, locking eyes with him as I spat down on his cock for some lubrication, he hissed grabbing my hips tightly. A surge of courage took over me, pushing him down on the bed, I lifted my hips hovering over his cock, I grabbed it rubbing it up and down my slit, he gaped up at me. I lined it up against my entrance, ready to lower myself on him, he held my hips in place stopping me.“You want to ride me? Are you sure Harper? You don't have to.” His eyes grew with concern.

“No, I want to Kendall, I want to ride you. Just- please- just let me ….let me make you feel good.” I whined, he sighed agreeing, keeping his eyes on me as I lowered myself down on him, he was so much bigger than Will, so much thicker, I could only take him a little at a time. Soft moans left my mouth as I was half way down his cock, his firm grip on my hips being the only thing keeping me up right, stopping me from crumbling down, as the sensation of his thick cock mixed with the alcohol pulsing through my blood was making me feel lightheaded.

“You're doing so good.” He groaned, momentarily shutting his eyes. “So good baby, taking my cock so well.” He let me work at my own pace as his breathing quickened slightly. “I know you can take me, all of me.” I lifted up off him again, and sank back down, taking all of him, the stretch was far too intense. He was so deep in me, I could feel him in the pit of my stomach. I bit my lip, trying to suppress my whimpers, silent tears streaming down my face, as I clawed at his chest. My lips unintentionally curled into a slight frown. “Fuck- are you okay Harper.” 

“Fuck- yeah I’m fine you’re just- just a lot to take.” I whimpered, looking down at him through heavy eyelids, trying to adjust to his length and girth, but I could barely move at this angle without feeling the sting of pain. He swiftly flipped us over, cock still engulfed deep in me as my head crashed onto the soft pillows. 

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

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

 He pulled out of me, sinking back in me ever so slowly. “Fuck your so tight.” He hissed. I cried out, feeling so full again. His balls rested against my core with his cock sheathed all the way in, I took in slow, shallow breaths, attempting to soothe the burning away. I could feel each inch of him, each ridge, each curve of his meaty cock inside me. “You're doing so good, baby. You feel so good.” He groaned in my ear, his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back for me. He pulled all the way out again and plunged back in a few more times, letting my walls accommodate him. Careful not to thrust, taking his time, being so patient, so gentle just like he promised.

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

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

“Fuck me.” I rasped, my eyes fluttering shut. After gaining my approval he sighed in relief and thrusted his cock in me roughly, at a brutal pace. My eyes flew open, I gasped digging my nails into his biceps. His fingers dug into my hips as I wrapped my legs around his waist, needing to feel him deeper, quivering under him. “Feels so good Ken.” I moaned in his mouth, at some point our lips must have entangled again. His eyes never leaving mine, praises of encouragement falling from his lips.

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

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

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

My breasts bounced under him, as he fucked me mercilessly his cock splitting me inch by inch, it felt so good I was seeing stars. He pressed his face to my chest, placing sweet kisses, tasting my salty skin, kissing back up my neck. “I need more.” I moaned, as he continued pounding into me. He released one of his hands from my hips and brought it to my touch starved clit, rubbing aggressive circles. I was in complete bliss as I felt my orgasm build. “Don't stop.” I begged. His balls slammed against me with each thrust. 

“Ken I’m-”

“Fuck- me too,” sweat beaded across his forehead, as his skin flushed pink. “Cum for me baby, you've been so good, you deserve it. You're so fucking good for me.” Hearing his praise sent me over the edge again, as I let out incoherent moans and gasps. He groaned as I dug my nails into him, drawing blood. He drew back, balancing on his knees, grabbing my ankles and throwing them over his shoulders, he fucked me relentlessly, with harsh thrusts as I rode out my high clenching around his unforgiving cock. I practically sobbed feeling each curve of his cock as he buried himself deeper into me, tears pricking my eyes. He let out a haggard breath before pulling out and releasing on my stomach, collapsing on me, nuzzling his head in the crook of my neck. I ran my hands through his hair soothing him as his chest heaved against mine. 

“Fuck.” He rolled off me to lay beside me, he cradled my jaw, pressing a tender kiss on my lips. “You're fucking amazing.” He got up leaving the room and returned in his boxers carrying a damp towel. He gently grazed my skin, cleaning up his mess. He was doing exactly what he said he would, taking care of me. He dabbed the towel over my abused cunt, I winced feeling the soreness his girth left behind. “Sorry. Do you need anything?” His eyes softened.                                    

“Water please.” I rasped, smiling as he scurried off. No one had ever taken care of me like this before, not even the man who claimed to love me. I retrieved my panties bunched up on the ground, sliding them on before throwing on Kendall’s button down. He returned with a cold bottle of water, leading me back to the bed, he drew the comforter back, pulling me under with him. I winced again coming in contact with the mattress. I pressed the water bottle between my legs, trying to soothe the stinging. 

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

“No, no you were perfect.” I let out a small laugh, seeing him get so worried about me. “She’s just out of practice.” I said gesturing down to my core. 

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

“She’ll be fine, don’t worry.” I reassured him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Uh, okay so thank you for the lovely evening, but I like- have to get going now.” I sighed, slithering off the bed, trying to keep my weight off my pelvis. I stood up, my legs still wobbling from the aftershocks of the not one but two ground shattering orgasms I received.

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

“I can’t, Kendall we both have work in the morning and I certainly can’t fucking wear last night's dress in.” I argued, trying to wriggle out of his grip. 

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

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

“It’s Saturday tomorrow.” His chuckle vibrated through my entire body. “Please just stay, you're drunk and walking like Bambi. Just let me take care of you Harper.” How could I say no to his sweet words? I begrudgingly agreed and got back under the covers with him, he kept his arms around me, holding me close. 

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

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

“Oh I need to go get-" I shifted taking his arm off my waist

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

“My phone.” I said sheepishly. 

And without another word he rushed off again, returning moments later with my clutch in one hand and an ice pack in the other. He put it between my legs holding it in place, I closed my heavy eyelids sighing in relief. “You're so good to me Ken” I whispered resting my head on his chest before dozing off.

“You deserve it and so much more baby.”

Chapter 4 and onwards

[rascalthehamster]

A Kendall Roy vent piece. Enjoy!

Inspired by this photo of him and Naomi.

[anthraxattacker]

kendall fic surrounding his reoccurring water motif?? wow I should read that!!

[kencoded-kengirl]

nobody knows how to write succession sex oh my god. please stop writing stewy and kendall snuggling in bed. we all know kenstew aftercare comes in 1 form and 1 form only: kendall crying incredibly loudly and wetly into the pillow while stewy rolls over and watches tiktoks on full volume for about 15 minutes until he stops feeling completely burned out on kendall as a person

[redscrawl]

nothing quite like scrolling though the Succession tag on Ao3 which consists of one of 3 things: a tomgreg fic where greg is marilyn monroe and tom is jfk or they’re being hunted for sport or something insane like that, a romangerri fic with smut tags that haven’t even been invented yet, or a kenstewy fic dramatic enough to challenge the bible itself

[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

[the-west-meadow]

masterlist

SUCCESSION reader inserts

Kendall Roy

Late at Night

Lost My Mind Today 18+

Sleepless 18+

Kissing Strangers 

You Make Me Want Things 

It Was You 

The Holy Mountain 

A Good Person 

Nowhere

I’ll be Home Soon 18+

I’m Glad You’re Here

Pain

Roman Roy

When He’s Gone

Hit Me

Did You Miss Me?

You’re an Asshole

Heartbreaker

Lukas Matsson

Normal People 18+

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

Leave Your Clothes On

Awake 18+

Tom Wambsgans

My Life is Filled with Fear 18+

If I Could Start Again 18+

Whispering

You Have To Leave

All the Wine 18+

Greg Hirsch

You Don’t Have to Go

Getaway Ch 1

Getaway Ch 2

Other People

Non-Reader Inserts

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

THE KILLER (2023)

The Killer x Original Female Character

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

THE LAST OF US

Joel Miller x Original Female Character

If the Fates Allow (Ao3 link)

[hunzzzzz]

Fight for you - Chapter 1 : strangers

Kendall Roy x original female character

Themes : slow-burn / enemies to lovers

Okay guys this is my first time writing if it’s terrible I’m sorry

Blurb :

Harper Aly is broken. Hanging on by a thread. Desperately trying to fix her life. Kendall is like a breath of fresh air, pulling her out from the deep end.

Kendall is also broken, but something about her makes him want to fight for her. Fight against himself to a better man, be the man she deserves. She was like the first daffodil of spring, after a cold, miserable winter.

Their lives end up entangled in one another, emotions are high, working together gets complicated, promises are broken.

Can Harper give him a chance, despite her trust issues?

Can Kendall prove to be the man that he says he is?

It had been another seemingly endless day at work, to the point where my mind was anything but focused on the task in front of me. Letting out an exasperated sigh I glanced at the clock, 10 minutes past 7. I longed for the day I would leave the office at an acceptable time, as mentioned in my contract. Exhausted, I flung my glasses on the table and made my way out of the office. By the evening time my contacts had dried out and I had switched to my glasses. The building was practically empty, through my blurred vision I could make out a few stray lights on. It was nice knowing I wasn't the only one slaving away at this hour. I hadn't seen daylight in the past 2 months, my pale skin and sunken eye bags could attest to this. My team had been working relentlessly on an upcoming project, and the grunt of all the marketing and PR work landed on me.

I made my way up to the roof, the the only part of my day that I looked forward to. I closed my eyes, taking the first drag of my cigarette. The nicotine buzzed in my ears, feeling the day's tension slowly drift away. I often came here when the building was scarce to stress smoke in peace. I had never been an avid smoker, just the occasional cigarette if I was particularly inebriated. But when life gives you a fiance who publicly humiliates you in front of the whole world, you tend to pick up a few bad habits. The combination of the man whom I loved, cheating on me, combined with the overbearing workload, had plummeted me to an all time low. I walked towards the edge of the building admiring the admiring the view below. New York was beautiful at night, I found solace in the city lights. From this height I couldn't make out what was going on below. It was an escape from the hustle bustle of the city, I could finally hear my thoughts so clearly.

“Do you ever just think of jumping?” I was ripped from my tranquil state. I snapped my neck to my right to identify the culprit, squinting my eyes, trying to make out who it was. “Just imagine the adrenaline coursing through your veins.” Said the blurry man as he brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. I was so lost in my own world, that I hadn't even heard him creeping up beside me.

“Yeah you should test it out. Let me know how it goes.” I snapped, annoyed at the stranger who had rudely interrupted my peace of mind. The 5 minutes of the day that help keep me sane, keep me afloat.

“Uh, okay. Not your day huh?” He chuckled. He had the audacity to find humor in this, it made my blood boil.

“If you keep talking to me I might actually just jump.” I attempted to climb up onto the ledge.

“Okay- fucking extreme reaction. Fine.” He sputtered, backing away, hands held up in surrender. “ Okay look- just can you please- just fucking get down now.” I retreated back down with a victorious smirk. Grateful to finally be left alone, I wasn’t particularly keen on making small talk with some cocky guy from the financing or legal department, I had already done enough of that for one day. I took the last few drags of my cigarette and tossed it away without a care, watching it fizzle out on the cold concrete.

“Theres literally a fucking trashcan right beside you, but no- by all means please litter.” I must have jumped 10 feet in the air, startled hearing the same voice behind me, I scrambled back only to be met with a firm chest against my back. He gripped my wrists from behind as I instinctively brought them up to do God knows what. “Hey, hey- it's still me.” He chuckled. First this man ruined my smoke break and as if that wasn’t enough, now he amped it up a notch and tried to send me into cardiac arrest, some people just have no shame.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I all but shrieked, trying to thrash away from him. “Dude, let go of me, or I swear to Go-”.

“Or what? You’ll- uh, fucking threaten to jump off the building again?” He mused, using my own words against me. “Hey easy, easy. I just thought I’d stick around you know given that you’re a suicide risk.” His deep chuckle vibrated through my body, his breath sending chills down my spine. I could feel his chest rising against my back, his intoxicating cologne burning my nostrils. The scent, the exact same one that left me shattered in a million pieces. It all just became too much, my mind began flooding with sour memories from the past.

“Just leave me alone.” I muttered, my voice shaking, as I finally broke free of his death grip. Slumping my shoulders over the ledge, cradling my head in my hands. I rapidly blinked, trying to ward off the tears that threatened to spill, I can't let myself go back to that place. I won't let myself.

“Oh shit- I was fucking joking. Are you okay?” I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Look I’m sorry please don't cry. I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His voice was soft as he tried to awkwardly comfort me, trying to make sense of my sudden burst of emotions. Rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I shrugged his hand off, and cleared my throat, straightening my back, ready to tell him to go to hell. I turned to face him, only to be met by soft chocolate eyes piercing into mine, full of concern. Timidly breathing as though, any sudden movement might push me over the edge, emotionally .

It felt as though all the pain that I so desperately tried to block from my mind, began leaking through the dam. The facade that I had built, convincing my friends, family and co-workers that I was fine, came crumbling down like Jenga .

I choked out a sob as my eyes betrayed me. I let the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of pain I had been holding onto for months. Drenching my cheeks and leaving me gasping for breath. Each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in my heart. I was finally allowing myself to grieve my broken heart, my relationship, my ex-fiance— since he's dead to me now .

Deep down I knew this emotional breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never thought it would be at work with a stranger comforting me.

“Hey, you're okay.” His voice was velvety, soothing my anxieties like a warm blanket. “You’re going to be okay.” His hands gripped my shoulders as they viciously shook.

Once the sobs finally subsided, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Well shit, that was embarrassing.” I tried to humour myself, wiping at my mascara stained cheeks slightly, turning away from him and facing the city, so he couldn't see what a mess I had become. “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from.” I whispered, keeping my eyes glued to the skyline ahead, too ashamed to even look at him. Something about crying in front of people or in public, felt so deeply shameful to me, I felt so vulnerable. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Are you sure- because uh, I don't know- there seemed to be a little something more to it.” He questioned sceptically. “Look, I've been there before, bottling it all up. Faking a smile to the point where I almost actually fucking convinced myself- that maybe, just maybe, I actually am happy.” He smiled as he spoke, but there was a deep sadness behind his words. “I’ve been to rock bottom, countless times. So look- just- I’m saying, I don't know what’s going on with you, but, just trust me the more you try to push it away the more it consumes you.” His radiant voice was like a beacon of comfort, guiding me through to the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in months I felt like I could open up to someone, without any judgment.

“Okay you got me there, lock me up and throw away the key.” I admitted, earning a small laugh from him. “It’s just so embarrassing to even say out loud. Promise you won't laugh.” I glanced over at him. I already had trust issues from my childhood, so being betrayed by the one person that I thought I could blindly trust without a doubt, shattered me. Before the betrayal, I would put effort into being more social and open with people I called friends. But now I found comfort in the loneliness. I was on a 24 hour look out, working overtime to guard my heart, from ever feeling that type of pain ever again. I knew I wasn't strong enough to survive it again, so I never gave anyone a chance to even challenge it.

“What- of course not. I promise.” He responded in an instant, hand held over his heart.

“My fiance cheated on me, I'm sorry let me reiterate.” I corrected myself. “My fiance of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend.” I confessed. “And the worst part is that it happened right under my fucking nose. But I was too busy planning our dream wedding, setting up appointments with realtors; looking for a bigger place for when we decided to start a family.” I laughed at the last part, somehow saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous— how I was so oblivious to the truth. “I was so focused on the future, letting it blind me from what was actually happening right in front of me.”

“Shit- yeah no that’s uh- that's rough.” He nodded, taking in my words. “Fuck yeah, I get it now. Understood.” His voice was full of empathy. “I can't imagine- genuinely I’m fucking sorry.” Why was he apologising, when the person I longed to hear those words from, felt no remorse. Not a single ounce of guilt for hurting me in the worst possible way, leaving me broken.

“It’s fine. I’m in my acceptance phase now.” I reflected, feeling at ease sharing my raw thoughts with him, knowing that I’d never cross paths with him again. There was no harm in over-sharing with a stranger— what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah it sure seems like it.” He chuckled.

“No seriously- I am. Don't let my little breakdown earlier fool you.” I tried to defend myself. “That was partially work related too. The stress of this job has got me pulling out gray hairs. I’m too young to have gray hairs.” I sighed running a hand through my hair subconsciously.

“Okay now hear me out. Maybe- just maybe it’s just your bitchy attitude, that’s making you age?” He joked. Now that the haze of my inner turmoil finally simmered down, I saw his true colours shining through— god he was such an ass.

“Wow, creepy and a jokester. You really are a package deal.” I clasped my hand over my chest, feigning admiration. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal for someone of your prehistoric age to have gray hair, but for the younger generation, we take it very seriously. I don’t expect you to understand. You’re probably too busy dying your hair jet black every morning or getting fitted for your hearing aids.” My words left him stunned, as his mouth hung open in shock. It was clear that nobody had ever put him in his place before; humbled him; brought him back down to Earth. His entire persona radiated— finance bro— the worst of the worst kind of people.

“Okay- ouch. You fucking shoot to kill.” He finally recovered from my brutal attack. “And I’ll have you know my hair is naturally this colour.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And also- I’m still fucking young. I know how to use twitter, I listen to Kendrick, I know how it’s hanging these days.” He said trying to sound confident but I didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

I burst out laughing, feeling my chest tighten as I gasped for air in between giggles. “Oh god- my stomach hurts- please you’re killing me here.” I took a moment trying to compose myself, as he watched his lips pressed into a straight line, not amused. “I’m sorry but using twitter, and listening to Kendrick doesn’t qualify you to be as young, and hip as you think it does.”

“Fuck you- I’m not even that old. I’m not even close to middle-aged.” He threw his hands up frustrated.

“You keep telling yourself that grandpa.” I smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. Playing him at his own game, if he was going to dick then so was I. It was clear that I was winning the sword fight.

“Jesus- you’re fucking mean.” He smiled, shaking his head, taking my insults with a pinch of salt.

“Well, you know my villain origin story.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Your turn.”

“My turn? Uh- for what exactly?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know maybe your villain origin story, you know, how you became such an insufferable prick.” I replied grinning. “Harassing innocent women who are trying to enjoy a peaceful cigarette.”

“Oh wow- okay. So now I am what- some sort of creepy, stalker who uh- fucking comforts broken women?” He laughed, brushing off my harsh words. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air, so contagious, I joined in too. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, let alone even smiled— It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Answer the question, creep.”

“I guess we're sticking with creep then.” He huffed. “No origin story here. Just a guy who came up here to avoid my family’s daily fucking drama. But then heroically saved a beautiful young lady’s life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling in the city lights. If my cheeks weren’t already pink and puffy from all the crying, they definitely were now.

“Wow, my hero!” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the absurd lie.

A strong breeze picked up, I subconsciously wrapped my arms around my shoulders attempting to warm myself. I didn’t think to bring my jacket with me for a brief moment on the roof. Little did I know I would spend a half hour, pouring my heart out to a stranger.

“Are you cold here, take it.” He offered me his blazer, shrugging it off wordlessly, seeing my teeth chatter. I graciously accepted it, his scent still lingering on the expensive fabric. He lit another cigarette and offered me one too. I brought it to my lips, as he leaned in cupping his hands, to light it— if the brassy breeze would allow so. As he brought the flame closer, I finally got a good look at his face, the clearest I had been able to all night. I immediately recognised him. At that moment, I genuinely wanted to jump off the building, for real this time.

“Oh my— fucking— god.” I gaped at him, eyes wide as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the cigarette from my lips, stepping away from him. “Kendall fucking Roy. You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped. “Why didn't you say anything?” A million thoughts raced through my head, the most prominent one being— I was definitely going to lose my job. I had just told the COO of the very company I work at, the future heir to Waystar and Royco; to jump off the roof; allowed him to watch me have a spontaneous nervous breakdown; and if that wasn’t already humiliating enough I then proceeded to insult him to his face.

“Wait, are you serious?” He asked, lips parted in silent surprise.

“I’m not wearing my glasses.” I tried to reason, scrambling back, putting some much needed distance between us. “I have to go.” I quickly tried to escape, after digging my own grave.

“YO, wait- hold up.” He yelled, hot on my tail. I slammed the door shut behind me, trying to buy myself a couple of extra seconds as I scurried down the stairs, my heels about to give out under me. I made it back down to my office in record time and collapsed in my chair, heaving. Facepalming once I realised I still had his blazer on.

[scarletttries]

How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...

Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader

Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️

Kendall Roy

This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.

A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.

While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.

Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.

Roman Roy

It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.

You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.

It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.

Tom Wambsgans

Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.

You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.

Greg Hirsch

You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.

When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.

Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.

Stewy Hosseini

Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'

Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.

Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)

Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.

He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.

He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.

[springtyme]

𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♡

The Bear

Sydney Adamu

Richie Jerimovich

Carmen Berzatto

Michael Berzatto

Video Games

141 + König

Joel Miller

Arthur Morgan

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Emily Prentiss

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Succesion

Roman Roy

Kendall Roy

Shiobhan Roy

Peaky Blinders

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

Saltburn

Farleigh Start

Felix Catton

Marvel

Miguel O'hara

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Steven, Marc & Jake

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @xihatiancai.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

[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?

[beebeetheclown]

Hello Bee! Can you do a oneshot of Kendall and reader where they m*sterb*te together? Idk idk kind of hot to think about. Maybe with some name calling??

Hello anon👋🏻😊 thanks for this request. Here’s what I came up with😏 sorry if it’s too short, I wrote this while I should have been studying for my English class💀 but hey, I think I did pretty good on the test today so.. enough of me rambling… hope you like it :)

“How many more days again?” You ask over the phone while laying in bed. Kendall was on a week business trip far away from you, you didn’t know it would be such a problem for you, but it was. You became more and more horny for him the more days and hours that passed.

The two of you didn’t really put the boyfriend and girlfriend label on it yet. You kind of were just seeing each other. You’d only met a couple months back. He had met you at some underground club, the two of you ended up fucking and you just couldn’t get enough of each other. So here you were, two months later on the phone with him, eager for him to come back to New York and fuck you.

“Two more days.” He replies through the phone, “two more days and then I’m back in New York.” Kendall made sure to call you every night before you went to sleep when he was away. The two of you had already sexted each other the second night he was away from you. You were both addicted to each other.

“That’s too long.” You sigh.

“I know, but it’ll go by quicker if you stop thinking about it.” He replies. The two of you had been on the phone for about 20 minutes now, “well, I’m going to shower now, and you need to go to sleep.” He grins.

It was pretty late in the night, but you weren’t tired, you were needy and so was he. To tell the truth, he was most likely going to jerk off in the shower thinking about you after hanging up.

“Is the shower of your hotel all fancy there? I bet it is.” You reply, not wanting the conversation to come to an end yet.

“Yeah there pretty fucking nice I guess. Big space with glass doors. There’s even a small fucking bench in here.”

“No way. A bench in the shower? I should get one of those.” You grin.

“Fuck you and your dirty little mind.” He chuckles. “I think this means that you really need to go to bed now, before you get all needy like you always do late at night.”

“I do not get needy late at night.” You reply and grin.

“Fuck off. Yeah you do. Admit it.”

“Okay fine, maybe sometimes but not all the time.”

“Right.” He replies with a small laugh. “What are you doing right now?”

“Laying in bed, talking to you.”

“What’re you wearing?”

You laugh a little, “oh come on, don’t ask that. You sound like a fuck boy.”

“Okay but so what? Just tell me.” He grins.

“Fine, if you must know… I’m wearing that Victoria Secret robe you gifted me.”

“Mm, the black silk one?”

“Yes.”

“You know, that’s a favourite of mine.”

“Well, it’s too bad you’re not here to see it. Poor you.” You tease, “And you’re not even here to see what I have underneath.” You were wearing nothing but a pair of panties underneath, you slept like that sometimes.

“Oh baby,” he whispers, “don’t do this to me.”

You just chuckle a little and begin to play with the ribbon on your robe.

“I want you to put your fingers in your mouth, can you do that for me?” He suddenly says in a low tone.

“Why?” You grin.

“Just do it honey, no questions asked alright?” He didn’t even sound demanding, he just sounded so calm, like he wasn’t just asking you to suck on your own fingers.

You do as your told and put your middle and index finger in your mouth. When it goes silent, he takes that as a sign that you’re doing what he had told you and speaks again,

“Alright good, now I want you to play with yourself. Take those fingers and play with yourself baby.”

You slowly bring them out of your mouth to bring them down lower and lower until your hand is undoing the robe and your fingers are under your panties and resting on your clit. You begin to move them in a circular motion, making you whimper out quietly.

He can hear your quiet noises through the phone and this makes him grin, “good, very good baby. Does that feel good?”

“Yes.” You reply and continue to move your fingers.

“Well now that I assume your cunt is wet, I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers. Think you can handle that honey?”

“Yes.” You say again.

“Well good. I want you to put one finger in okay?”

You do as your told again and you let out a soft gasp. You’ve done this before of course, but with Kendall Roy’s voice over the phone telling you want to do was new for you, it was so much better than doing it in complete silence.

“Good. Good girl, now add in another finger. I need you to fuck yourself with two.” You add in a second finger immediately and the pleasure only gets better. You moan out in the phone and smile a little.

“How does that feel?” He asks.

“So… so fucking good Kendall.” You breathe out “I just wish… it was your fingers instead.” His fingers were thicker than yours, they stretched you out better. He even fucked you better with them compared to you doing it yourself. He would always curl his fingers and change his pace without a warning like he was surprising you. You loved surprises.

“Yeah, I want you to imagine that. Imagine that their my fingers instead baby.” Kendall could feel his erection getting harder every time you would let out one of your little whimpers or sounds. He was just picturing how pretty you looked while touching yourself for him and only him.

You can hear him unzipping his dress pants through the phone and this makes you grin. He puts the phone on speaker before sending it down on the bathroom counter and then puts a hand on the wall while the other brings his cock out to begin to stroke himself.

“I want you to grind your hips into your own fingers.” He continues. You obey and arch you back as you begin to grind your hips back and forth, giving you more pleasure. “Fuck, I wish I could see you right now.” He strokes himself a little faster now.

You let out a moan and then turn your head to the side and see his pillow next you and you get an idea that makes you grin.

You remove your fingers from yourself and rolls over and grab his pillow. Kendall must hear you moving around and your moans stopping because he asks “what are you doing now sweetheart?”

You chuckle a little and then get on your knees and put his pillow between your thighs, beginning to grind your hips, “I’m using your pillow” you reply.

Hearing you say this makes his hand movements pause on himself and chuckle, “you’re using my pillow, is that what I just heard?”

His expensive silk pillow case brushes against your cunt and you let out a whimper, “yes.”

“Oh you dirty little thing, using my pillow to pleasure yourself.” He chuckles.

You moan and continue to grind your hips back and forth, up and down. You can’t help but bring your fingers to play with your clit. Your other hand grips the headboard tightly, holding yourself up so you’re not falling apart.

“Are you… are you jerking off kendall?” You breath out.

“Yes baby. I couldn’t wait any fucking longer.” He grunts out into the phone, “just hearing you… picturing you right now, oh fuck.” He felt himself coming close. “The things I’d do to you if I was there, fuck I can’t even put it into words.”

“Oh Kendall.” You moan out and close your eyes as you continue to move your hips and your fingers, gripping the headboard harder and harder.

“How would you want me to fuck you if I was there huh? Would you let me fuck you while you’re underneath me or would you take it from behind? How would you want it honey?” He breathes out. In order to come, he needed to picture exactly what position you wanted to be in.

You continue to hump his pillow, “fuck, I would ride you Kendall. I want to ride you.”

“Yeah?” He pants out, “you wanna ride my dick?”

You throw your head back and open your mouth, letting another moan leave your lips, “yes, I’m so close Kendall.”

“Well what are you waiting for honey? Come for me, come on my pillow like the dirty little slut you are.”

This makes you let out a pathetic little moan and come undone. All kinds of sounds leave your lips as you come down from you high. You close your eyes again as you come, picturing being on top of Kendall and having his dick twitch deep inside you.

On the other end of the call, Kendall’s strokes become more desperate and quick and soon, he’s spilling out onto the rich marble floor of his hotel bathroom, moaning out quick breaths and calling out your name quietly.

You smile and chuckle out breathlessly and then fall and lay down on your back.

“Two more days.” He chuckles.

“Two more days.”