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starsandsugars · 11 months

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Burning Desire

PAIRINGS: shiv roy/f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was ridiculous, and beyond irresponsible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why don't you come show me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Be. Quiet."

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

"Shut up."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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bowieandqueen11 · 11 months

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Get You Out / Roman Roy Imagine

Request: i am in love with ur works!! could you write a roman roy x reader where they first say “i love you” or truly express their deep feelings for each other? again, i would die for your works they are so good 🌟😭

Thank you so much sweetie, that’s very kind of you!! Season 4 is kicking my ass so I wanted to add a little sweetness to it, I hope you don’t mind! :)

Okay so I am very very tired as I write this so it might be terrible but I hope you guys manage to enjoy it anyway ty ty I am so very tired and pre-grieving <3

Warning: strong language, mentions of childhood physical/ mental abuse, funeral setting and general grieving, mentions of blood/ injuries!

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

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman Roy didn’t want to be a mausoleum any longer.

It had started at the funeral. As his childhood best friend, Roman had managed to squeeze the other siblings into allowing you to sit in the front row with them: Connor had been thrilled, Shiv uncharacteristically accepting, and even Kendall in his own way had been sweet as he clapped your back and ushered you in to sit on what felt like it’s own stifling plank of coffin wood. Roman had spent the whole hour squeezing your hand in a death grip, his knuckles burning a haunting white as he sat pressingly close to your side. Sometimes you couldn’t bare to look at him through the service: his face breaking your heart as it sunk into a face as sullen as a sunken grave as Uncle Ewan pressed on in his critique masquerading as a scorned brother’s eulogy. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and raised your middle finger to forgivingly run over his top lip, trying to soothe his scowl. He couldn’t look at you either, but you figured another ounce of pressure against your palm was sure enough to crack bone.

Then came Roman’s turn, and you prayed to everything you could think of to be lenient to him as he walked towards the austere steps of the pulpit, his father lying cold and stern from where Roman lumbered haggardly beside him. Without even meaning to, your hands clasp together and your fingers kiss against your lips as you watch Roman’s form clamber up towards the front of the room. He keeps looking back, piercing you, and only you, with those sunken, empty eyes. Pleading. Begging. Terrified. All you can muster is an encouraging nod as the showman his father forced him to be tries to break through his grief, his hands clasping onto the edges of the lectern. Yet he can’t even manage to look around the pitying room, too focussed on fumbling with his pink cards of unheard adoration as he flicks through them. You go to get up then, noticing the way Roman keeps pleadingly looking straight in your direction as he flicks through the words he knows, deep down, that his father would never have listened to anyway, but Kendall places a hand on your shoulder and keeps you firmly next to him.

You weren’t sure if he were giving his brother the chance to mourn, or if his embarrassment would just add to his back pocket arsenal of blackmail.

Once Roman started waving his limp hands, beckoning you to come and save him from drowning in the next wave of misery he had spent so long conceitedly treading the water of, the distraction of his face crumbling was the only thing stopping you from ripping Kendall’s fingers off your shirt one by one. Thankfully for Roman you’re the first from the sibling group to reach him, and he collapses onto your body as soon as your gentle hands touch the trembling expanse of his back. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, he sobs into your shoulder, gripping the back of your jacket like it was the last tether connecting him to the living world. He was pale, sickly looking, fading like a phantom as he raised his hands to his face and tried to cower himself away from the overseeing stare of his father. In life, in death, in him. Always watching. Nothing but fury and abhorrence stinking its way out from that decorated box. Roman tried to shield himself from it, but even he couldn’t stop his father’s rigged game. It was too late, even as Shiv grabbed onto his shoulder and wept messily with him. The dagger had pierced skin. The poison dripped in. He couldn’t save himself. His father was too busy rotting inside him to stay within his coffin.

Somehow, everything felt worse when you tucked him into your side, and he managed to stagger back to the pew by leaning against your waist. His coat seemed too big for him: made him seem even more infantile, flooding him in the fashions his father had chosen as he collapses down next to you again, and pretends the whole room isn’t laughing at him. He doesn’t care. He’s used to it. He’s the jester after all, isn’t he? This is what he does. Deflects away, makes people laugh, acts the fool so he can break down in private. He winces, shaking his head and looking down at the ground, knowing he’s fucked up again. Acting the fool or the king, Roman Roy just can’t seem to get his character right. And when it crumbles away, the world is left seeing just how fucking pathetic the real him actually is.

He tries to hide away from the scorn, utilising the gap between Kendall and his sister’s rounding, corporate winning speeches to furl his hands to his chest like a new born, and lay his head on your lap for a moment. Surprised, you raise your hand and let him. In the most sincere gesture of trust Roman’s given since his father died, he smushes his lips against your thigh and squeezes his burning eyes shut, wishing the two of you were thirteen again, and the world didn’t seem to cast him in shadows every time he snuck back out your bedroom window. For a moment, you glanced your fingers back and forth over the stubbled hair by his ear, allowing Roman the freedom to just weep. As you feel the tears pierce your trousers and soak warmly against your skin, you try to control Roman’s wracks of shaking by leaning down and whispering against the shell of his ear.

‘We’ll get out of here soon Romie. We’ll go home soon.’

This seems to kickstart something in Roman; he begins to feel his father’s lashings for showing such weakness close over his throat and choke him out for the second time that afternoon. Home. He doesn’t have a home. How can a crypt have a home, when its too busy housing someone else? Like a puppet being twirled by the unknown strings of a marionette, his fingers seem to clench in resistance against the pull as his limbs clunkily begin to move against you. He rolls back up to sit rigidly again, like someone placing a plank up a scarecrow and placing it back in it’s empty field to decay. A warning for scavengers.

He doesn’t even glance at you again for the rest of the night. His heart’s already bleeding, bruised, swelling with poison. He can’t bear to have it broken by allowing even a sliver of hope that he might be able to escape from his father’s abuse trickle through his solid walls.

You manage to lose him at the funeral reception, too busy in a heated discussion opposing the morals, and the behaviours of the so called next president Mencken to notice Roman slipping out of the room like a kicked stray. It’s only when you’ve resorted to your last idea: asking Gerri if she knows where Roman’s slinked off to, that you notice your phone ringer has been turned down. As you slide it out of your front pocket, your stomach nearly flips backwards when the home screen lights up with a new message: ‘8 missed calls from Roman Roy.’ You’re out the door before Gerri can even finish her sentence, wagging a disapproving finger at Kendall he comes waltzing towards you in a show of concern, throwing him a look of pure derision that his face immediately falls and he staggers a step backwards, knowing not to push his luck with another member of the family tonight. Mencken throws out an insulting goodbye as your handle grips the door, and with a final middle finger thrown in his direction, you’re running down the stairwell and racing back towards the beckoning call of the city’s darkness.

You call him again while you’re sitting, waiting, trying your best not to swear at the driver as he swerves through traffic jams and slams to a break at red lights. Roman picks up almost immediately, and you can tell by the quiver in his voice that he’s finding it difficult to swallow through the tears that drip like poison down his throat. ‘I fucked up Y/n. I fucked up. Please... I want to go home. Please. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.’ His voice keeps wavering in and out of static, as if he’s shivering and can barely hold the phone up to his ear. He sounds lost. Confused. He wants you, and what can you do but swallow your own grief and answer his call once again. As you race through the downtown lights towards the area the demonstrations had been held, you relent into an old habit of Roman’s you had picked up from an early age: picking at your nails until they begin to bleed, dripping down and running through the cracks of the frigid, foul-smelling leather.

It had been approximately forty minutes since you had found him wandering down the avenue, limping past the chained gate of the old clockmaker’s shop. He had been leaning against the piss-stained hollows of the wall, using the uneven brick to hold himself up. Whether it was due to the extent of his injuries: the blood trickling down his face and blinking into his eyelashes, the bruises beginning to swell up in familiar places along his patchwork-esque arms, or the fact that his whole body was convulsing in shudders he couldn’t control, even Roman didn’t quite know.

‘Yn.’ It was curt. A simple acknowledgement, in the way one might greet a business acquaintance, once he saw your bleary eyes amidst the neon shadows. You stopped in your tracks, frozen in place at how decrepit he looked: hunched over, grasping his stomach, his face sallow and sunken and littered with a new collage of bruises.

‘...Y/n.’ His voice howled. A call for help, an indulgence as you came wandering down the sidewalk, taking his battered form in.

All Roman did know was that as soon as he felt your arms sink themselves around his shoulders, he wanted to bury himself underneath your skin and let himself die there.

The two of you decide the best course of action is to bring Roman home to your apartment, fearful about the consequences of leaving him alone for the night. You make him take the subway home, believing it best to sink back into normality: to escape the tombs of his father’s helicopter cockpits and enclosing limousine backseats, where nothing but sickness and tears and abuse had ever come to fruition. Roman, surprisingly, doesn’t complain when you bring him down the tunnels and lead him onto a seat littered in what seemed to be the breadcrumb leftovers of someone’s lunch. He doesn’t even seem to notice as the train speeds away from it all, too busy keeping his untrained eyes focused on a poster ripping off the other end of the wall, some genitalia graffiti sprayed over the remains of a Waystar film industry next big summer blockbuster hit poster. The bile rises like warm blood at the back of his throat at the sight of it, and as he leans forward he grabs onto your arm. You manage, just in time, to place your palm at the top of his forehead and stop him from lunging forward and hitting the train’s pole, but the would-be pain just seems to dissipate instead into his muscles as his face screws up, beginning to weep again. You shrug off your coat and wrap it first squarely, securely around his shoulders, before tucking it around yours as well. You want him to feel safe, and he seems to appreciate the gesture as he leans his sniffling head down onto your shoulder, letting you reach over and caress the side of his cheek in the oh so familiar way you used to rock him back and forth when you hid in his father’s pool house as children.

By the time you actually get home, Roman’s exhausted. He doesn’t manage to get further than through your door before he trips over his own feet, a long queue of pent up swears bubbling out of his mouth as his already stinging hands hit the floorboards. You go to help him up, wrapping one arm around the underside of his belly and heaving him back up against your chest, but he waves you off. He wants to stay here for a while. A lapdog, of course, always feels most comfortable on the floor.

‘Fuck! Oh, for fuck’s sake’, you mutter as your phone vibrates for the umpteenth time that night. You fluster as you cut the phone call off, adding it to the long list of curt text messages from Shiv, long winded but caring speeches from Connor, and even the occasional nods of concern from Willa. The latest offender seemed to be Logan junior, who had tried to call you for the fifth time in ten minutes. His name lights up again, illuminated by the what used to seem like a friendly glow of the picture you had taken of him by the pool of a family trip to Morocco several years ago. Now, the sight of his killer edged smile, of the glint in his squinting eyes seemed almost repulsive to you. ‘Kendall, for all I care you can go fuck yourself sideways with your own dick.’

Roman laughs hoarsely at that, making you turn your head and notice the way he’s dragging himself like wounded prey on his hands and knees towards the small cupboard where you keep your coats. He swings the door open with a shaking fist, and you follow in his supplicating, servitude crawl as he makes his way in between a rack of jackets. He’s hiding again, nesting himself away from the world, withdrawing to try and keep the only part of him still struggling to survive safe. Drawing himself down to hide within his father’s grave.

You draw apart the fringes of raggedy winter coats, and threads of brand-new high-end boutique suits to join his little nook, which he openly accepts by scooting himself backwards until he hits the edge of the wall. He crosses his legs beneath him, trying to sit all prim and proper as if he were a school child caught doing something wrong; he raises his arms up to his face to try and shield the blows he knows he deserves for fucking it, yet again.

‘Please, Y/n, just please. Just fuck off. I fucked it. I... fuck. I’m a fucking moron.’

‘What did I tell you about calling yourself a moron’, you chide sternly.

You wouldn’t let him be buried along with Logan. You refused to allow the old bastard to win. Piece by piece, you were going to tear the splintered blade of his father’s daggered tongue out of the crevices of Roman’s body. You were going to win. You were going to be stronger than Logan Roy’s hatred.

Placing your hand gingerly on his wrist, you just allow it to settle there as Roman tries to wince away from you. It takes a little while: a couple of minutes, maybe fifteen, maybe an hour, you don’t know, and you don’t care. But the cracks in the foreboding, eroding stone walls began to break apart; Roman’s weeping slowly descended into bleary-eyed sniffling instead, his closed fists slowly beginning to open like blooming like Narcissus daffodils sprouting, reaching up towards the sunlight from where they lay sprinkled across the forgotten grave. His fingers tentatively sought you out, and once they gripped onto your forearm he broke open like a sepulchre.

‘It’s true though. My dad was always fucking right, like one of those fucking witches from ‘Macbeth’ - you know the ones that stirred cauldrons that talk in riddles and shit. He always knew what I was. I’m such a fucking embarrassment’, he starts, once he realises that you’re not pulling away from him, but instead offering him something he rarely ever receives in his life. Acceptance. Relief. An overwhelming spring of kindness.

‘You mean the evil ones that controlled everybody? That does sound like your dad.’

He hits you with the side of your shoulder and snorts, but the movement is a relief to you. He’s not too far gone yet.

‘Roman, you didn’t do a thing wrong. You’re grieving, and that’s completely normal - it’s expected. It would be fucking weird if you weren’t a mess right now.’

He sobs at that: a harrowing, gut wrenching warble, and he deflates. His whole body seems to sink in on itself like a black hole, refusing to let you go. He drags you in with him, until the two of you are laying on the floor in the foetal position, your knees tucked up against each other in a kind of wallowing solace. You dare to kiss the tip of his nose, using the sweet way his eyes close shut and his face wrinkles as an excuse to run your pointer finger over a gash that splinters crimson red above his eyebrow. Gashing open at your touch, the wound reopens and makes Roman wince, but he doesn’t recoil from you anymore.

‘You should run. Run the fuck away from this family while you still can. We’re all so fucked. I’m fucking - I’m done. I’m dead. This is it for me.’

He opens his eyes again, and allows you a chance to see properly that day just how awful he looks. Empty. Bloodshot. A haunted house. A man fighting for control against the tendrils of his father that grasp into his gut and seem to be squeezing. He mewls, and some irrepressible fury at Roman, at Logan, at the lifestyle and choices of the Roys seems to burst out in sharp whips from your tongue.

‘You can’t do that to me. You can’t say that. How fucking dare you.’

Roman opens one eye again, eyebrow arching upwards in a tired confusion. You place a palm against his shirt, in the dip between his shoulder blade and where his heart should lie, trying to stop your lips from quivering.

‘When, in the last thirty years, have I ever fucking run away from you? When have I ever left you to deal with all this shit alone, and this is how you repay me?’ He starts then, his head whipping back in surprise, but he doesn’t break your gaze as the rush of burning hot tangled fury and worry comes boiling out of you. ‘The first thing you do, instead of coming to me, is to go and get yourself trampled on? You can’t- you can’t do that. Not after Kendall - I thought - I thought, I thought you were dead-’ Your cutting words are silenced by a sob so forceful it makes you hiccup, and you raise the back of your free hand to your mouth to try and shove the words, the sobs, your fear, your anger, the truth back in. Roman’s face falls, the sound of you beginning to sob only making him feel worse.

‘I wouldn’t do that... I wouldn’t’, he begins to make excuses, but you just shake your head, feeling your breathing grow more rapid as the start of your avalanching panic attack finally begins to take its grip on your throat.

‘You’, you warble out, feeling guilty at the way Roman’s the one having to lift his trembling hands in placation, and wipe away the tears that crease your eyes with the corners of his thumbs. He does it so willingly, and so tenderly, that you feel your heart just pierce with an even more righteous anger at the indifference and mistreatment his father heaped upon his kind shoulders. You finally get it, as the affection and the tenderness his father had smothered in the cradle comes flooding through the exhausted lines of his face like a mosaic of shattered light, why he’s so downtrodden all the time. It fights against the forces of his father, flooding past the reckless cruelness of his brother, to shroud him in a sublime patchwork of all the people he’s dared to love. He apologises, the cracks of him seeping through, and it nearly destroys you entirely.

‘You mean so... so much more to me than you even fucking know, Roman.’

That won’t do. He can’t deal with that admission at all.

He cries like a beaten child, recoiling away from your words: ‘I’m sorry! Fuck!’ He grabs at your free hand in an uncomfortable mirroring of the way you had done to him earlier. His moves are far more frantic though: like a bird pecking at your skin, a sword slashing through the tendons of your muscles, barbs shooting against your fingertips as he tries to latch onto you. ‘I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t- I don’t deserve this.’

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant. Did he seriously believe that he didn’t deserve love, or the sorrow that innately follows in its footsteps, like the soft treads of a child waiting patiently behind the closed august doors of his father's office, never to be allowed entrance?

‘They’re all laughing at me, aren’t they? Hickory-dickory, watch how the fucking fool falls.’ He hides his face behind his stout fingers for a second, a child scorned.

‘No. No, they’re not’, you manage to lie between thick swallows.

‘You never made fun of me.’ He sounds so infantile, so defeated. So drained of all life. ‘Thar’s why I always loved you. You’d never do this to me.’

His voice cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up, and you know it’s the first thing Roman’s said in months that hasn’t been absolute bullshit. It’s his truth. The one thing Logan hasn’t been able to tear out of him.

‘You-’

‘I love you, you fucking asshole.’ Although he’s weeping against the creaking floorboards, his incessant pounding against the door’s of his heart finally seems to be getting somewhere. They begin to be opening. The slant of sunlight began to seep into the vault’s ornate chambers. He was beginning to feel the warmth. He knocks his forehead tenderly against your own, until your salty tears tread quick trails down your cheeks and melt into each other’s mouths.

‘I fucking love you too, you asshole. Thanks for finally noticing.’ You try to smile, and you can feel the pressure of Roman’s lips rise against your own.

‘Fuck you, I’ve been too busy to profess fucking love confessions if you hadn’t noticed. But I thought I was pretty obvious too, dipshit. At least we’re both fucking stupid.’ He laughs then, leaving you no moment to reply as he leans up on his elbow and bends himself down over you. His mouth fall clumsily over your own, damp and plump from a full day of crying, but the sting of the salt against the dry cracks of his lips don’t deter him. It was as if he had been replaying this moment in his mind, over and over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you as if you were a dream: a mirage, a living ghost that would disparate as soon as he let go. He cups the bottom of your chin, allowing his cold tears to fall over the bridge of your nose as he lets you breath life into the shallow halls of his once lifeless tomb.

When he finally pulls away, neither of you seem to be able to muster up the courage to speak. He looks bashfully, youthfully shy as he hides his gaze from you and falls back onto his side, although his tongue is prodding the edge of his bottom lip as if in disbelief. You tuck your nose further against his, and he sniffs as you raise a hand to cup his cheek. You’re careful not to press the pads of your fingers against the forming bruise that seems to bloom across the furrows of his eyelids. He languidly blinks, exhausted, but the harrowing loneliness that had spent it’s life chiselling its way into his heart was finally beginning to lift.

A new dawn was coming. A new chance to recreate himself. A new opportunity to try and burn away the ghosts that lived in the crevices of his brain.

‘We’ll do tomorrow together, right?’, he asks, his voice so quiet and muffled you could barely hear him. You press against the edges of his bruise, and he sighs against the corner of your top lip.

‘Together, as always. I promise. I’m going to get you out, Roman. I’m going to get you out.’

#succession #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #succession season 4 #succession imagine #succession spoilers #kendall roy #shiv roy #logan roy #connor roy #kieran culkin #x reader

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imchoccy · 10 months

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#succession #kendall roy #roman roy #shiv roy #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #logan roy #tomgreg #roman x gerri #text post meme #meme

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chaithetics · 1 year

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Furtive Hands

Pairing: Stewy Hosseini x f (Roy) reader

Word count: 7.3K

Chapter/content warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, established/secret relationship, smut, fingering, P in V intercourse, some fluff, soft but also kind of dom-ish Stewy? Vague-ish mentions of canonical childhood abuse/trauma, and toxic family dynamics, Logan makes a cameo at the start (deserves its own warning), Logan's death and grief mentioned also Roman being a bit of a douche. I think that's it?

(Reader is technically a Roy because that's how the plot/idea worked but I avoided physical descriptions other than reader having AFAB physical characteristics. You're more than welcome to canon this reader as being adopted or half-siblings with the other Roys. I try to avoid giving physical characteristics and am tempted to continue to code all my readers as readers of colour out of spite due to the lack of intersectionality in fics. My reader in A Cinematic Lover has no physical characteristics other than being chronically ill but is Desi coded.)

Author's Note: I didn't proofread all of it, whoops. This is also my first time writing Stewy and I'm not too sure how I feel about this fic. I don't feel super confident in saying that "I captured his voice" etc. But I adore Stewy Hosseini and Arian Moayed and we need more Stewy fics. Please let me know your thoughts! I'd really appreciate the feedback :)

Like being in the Roy family, being the youngest in the clan had its perks and downfalls. You’d been able to get away most of your life with your father’s wrath directed towards your older siblings but at a certain point when they’d reached adulthood before you and it was quickly redirected towards you. You and your older brother Connor were the only ones to stay out of the family business, Connor was technically more involved than you which said a lot to anyone familiar with the family’s affairs.

Despite being the youngest it would be fair to say you were the most emotionally mature of your siblings (although you could easily admit that’s a very low bar) and the most well-adjusted (again, another relatively low bar). You were a practising clinical psychologist who had of course undergone a bunch of therapy yourself for your childhood trauma. You’d wrapped up a session and were walking a patient out before heading back into your office for your office lunch date when you were interrupted by a booming presence.

“Dad?” You immediately questioned. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here-”

“I thought I’d stop by. See the new office-”

“I’ve had this office for 3 years.” You interjected.

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that, he seemed almost amused at your assertive call out. You had been a louder child like Roman but unlike your brother, you became quieter as a teenager. You knew your father had assumed that was because you didn’t have whatever “deficiency” he believed Roman had and that you’d grown out of it. The reality was, that it was a trauma response and you’d learnt that life was easier with him if you were quiet and made your presence as sparse as possible.

He’d always found playing his games with you particularly interesting due to this, you weren’t as quiet now as you were as a teenager and you weren’t as loud as you were as a child, somewhere in the middle. You could slink off at the few family gatherings you intended to not be questioned or dragged into shop talk. But you still had a known presence and you were the only one of his children who could somewhat confidently cut him off and respond to him with what he’d deem as some sense of calmness. You weren’t as pliant to him as your siblings which made his mind games all the more intriguing to him.

“Right. Well, it’s a nice enough place.”

“Thanks.” You bit your lip as you waited for your father to continue, he didn’t show up for no reason.

You were trying to project a calm facade you were starting to worry for a myriad of reasons. With what was going on with your family this wouldn’t be any pure coincidence. You weren’t the most involved in the family business but you were well aware and received updates from Kendall. But there was also concern over the potential sighting of your lunchtime visitor.

“Well dear, I need you to do something for me.” You tilted your head and your brow furrowed at his words.

“Since when do you need favours? Specifically favours from clinical psychologists?” You questioned.

“It’s to do with your siblings.” Logan spoke flatly as he then sat himself down on one of the armchairs in your waiting room. He was mildly irritated that you hadn’t invited him into your office and that you’d kept that room off limits for him, blocking the doorway to it.

You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes, one thing was for sure, whatever this was, it wasn’t good.

“Continue.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed at you slightly as he watched you as if it was the first time he was seeing you. He was used to you being uninterested and not the way that Shiv tried to play everything cool with Logan. You were genuinely uninterested, your eyes looked cold.

You had a colder approach with your father in comparison to your siblings, it was healthier and the easiest for you to maintain without being sucked in like they were. It wasn’t a big surprise to anyone that you weren’t impressed with the confrontations that happened in your presence, your siblings had weird concepts and responses of support. But there were the built-in responses as you’d gotten older, Kendall defended and you comforted.

Logan hadn’t always given you a great deal of attention in those moments but he was familiar with your mannerisms as he’d call them now. But today you seemed annoyed, this wasn’t an emotion that Logan felt like he’d seen from his youngest in almost a lifetime. He found it to almost be the most interesting he’d ever found you, he mused that you must know or be hiding something.

“Well, you grew up with Kendall, Roman and Siobhan. You understandably know them well and you have a unique skillset with your area of expertise.” He paused for a moment watching your face as he said that before continuing.

“And?”

“You would’ve made observations of their behaviours over the years. Symptoms-behaviours- whatever the fuck you want to call it. You have the power to diagnose.” You looked at him and the cooler facade you normally actively projected with him was starting to fade into one of horror. “I’d like you to write a piece on that, about your siblings. Their credibility, illnesses. A media circuit perhaps as well. You’re a credible and telling source.”

You stared at your father in silence, you didn’t know what to say to him. This was awful, even for him.

“So?” He broke the silence, his eyes were deadly serious, and his lips were in a small but twisted smirk.

“No. No! Just no…That’s absolutely fucked up. No.” You looked around starting to think about how messed up that your father hadn’t just come up with this idea but that he was willing to do it to his children, your older siblings and drag you into this. “No, and if I did that who would then get the chance to write the think piece on you?” You asked sardonically rubbing your brow.

“Well, I’m sure Shiv could whip up a sequel to her letter on Kendall.” He bit back almost nonchalantly.

“I shouldn’t be surprised but I just can’t get over the fact that you’d do this, that you’d ask me to do this dad. What you did to Kendall after that Board vote, was sick… And again? To all of them?” You were starting to feel nauseous and weaker around him.

“Are you talking to Kendall?” He asked in a cold tone.

“He’s my brother.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“And I’m your father.”

“Unfortunately.” You looked into his eyes and bit your cheek.

He scoffed at that. He’d come in relatively calm, well calm for him but he was quickly becoming agitated at your lack of cooperation.

“He’s a lousy excuse for a son and a brother.”

“Kendall doesn’t interrupt my day of work for a fucked up favour.” You spat out, you weren’t shying away from his gaze even though his presence was getting too much for you. “I think you should leave Dad. I have patients and I need to eat something, I need lunch.”

“Fine. Don’t give my regards to your fucking brother.” He said as he started to get up, you just leaned against the wall.

“Hey-” Stewy’s voice crackled against the thick tension between you and your father as he waltzed into the entryway of your waiting room. He paused for a second as his gaze quickly landed on your father and you. You thought you saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes but he quickly and efficiently plastered over it.

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” Logan directed at Stewy with a huff and an eye roll. Logan’s concern and suspicion were piqued significantly now as his disappointed gaze flicked over to you.

“Well sir Roy, your deleterious business plans and board meetings are getting a bit too traumatic, that much I now need to see Dr Roy.” Stewy immediately and confidently jumped in, his playful and pointed lie came across smoothly and convincingly. Logan scoffed at that and started to walk out.

“Don’t think about trying any of your peacock philandering with my daughter,” Logan said to Stewy as he walked past him.

“How thoughtful, safe travels sir.” Stewy laughed off Logan’s comment which just seemed to irritate him more.

“Think about it.” Logan said as he looked back at you as he was in the doorway, you just held his gaze for a moment.

“I’ll see you at the wedding.” You calmly stated, he narrowed his eyes again at you for a second and then just walked off.

**********

Stewy wasn’t a patient of yours, he fortunately never had been, that would’ve been a massive ethical violation. He was meeting you at the office for lunch, something that you two often did. It had been vaguely discussed in the past that if somebody ever saw him in your office it could be easy to dismiss it as him being a patient or wanting some kind of psychological consultation relating to work. It was never an excuse that had been needed before today and you were surprised at how quickly Stewy went into that mode and how he simply sold it.

You were sitting on the sofa in your office with your legs in Stewy’s lap, he had an arm over the back of the sofa and his other hand was gently caressing your legs as you recounted the brief visit from your father before Stewy came. Stewy was playful and a bit chaotic but he was also intelligent and he could be serious and thoughtful, which he often was for you.

“I should call Kendall before something happens.” You said looking at Stewy and he nodded, continuing his comforting, soft touches on your sprawled-out legs.

You grabbed your phone and called Kendall, the phone barely rang before it was answered.

“Yo?”

“Dad came by the office earlier today.”

“Oh? What did the old fuck want?” Kendall teased.

“He asked me to write a piece on you, Rome and Shiv. To air out everyone’s laundry, basically ‘diagnose’ you all and try to discredit your side of what’s going on. It was so fucked up Ken.” There was a pause for a moment, you heard Kendall sigh and then inhale. You made eye contact with Stewy who was silent and watching you.

You had a requited soft spot for Kendall. He was your older brother and he was a good one at that. He was fiercely defensive of all his siblings, which he seemed to prioritise over his own trauma and feelings in confrontations with your father. But as the baby of the family and not having the same tongue as your siblings, you suppose you came across as weaker, more vulnerable. You’d concluded a long time ago that this added to the soft spot that Kendall has for you. You also thought subconsciously it was also linked to the fact that you were the most patient and sympathetic sibling he had.

“What did you say?” Kendall finally asked, his voice was more serious now.

“I said no, a bazillion times. I told him it was sick and asked him to leave.”

Ken nodded, and then he remembered that you couldn’t see that.

“That’s pretty fucked up. Not surprising though I guess…”

“Are you with Rome and Shiv?” You asked.

“Uh-huh, they’re in the uh, they’re inside.” Kendall answered quickly.

“Can you tell them?”

“Yeah, sure but-”

“I’m really sorry Ken but I have another patient soon, I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could in case something happened. I didn’t want to do it over text.” You answered.

“Okay, I’ll see you at the rehearsal. Thanks as well.” His second sentence was softer.

“Yeah, of course. See you then.” You then hung up and looked at Stewy.

“Did he sound okay to you?” You asked Stewy.

“Sounded pretty okay for Ken.” Stewy responded as he moved his hand away from your legs and to hold your now phone-free hand. You just nodded and Stewy changed the subject to something else for the rest of your lunch hour which you appreciated.

******

You would say you have a complicated but good relationship with your siblings. While you had the same mother as Kendall, Shiv, and Roman, you and Connor were bonded by your outcast status regarding family affairs. You didn’t agree with a lot of the opinions that left Connor’s mouth but he was still a compassionate older brother to you. You often were iced out together at family gatherings as it was all a business opportunity for your father’s attention.

You were glad that you just had to relay your father’s request to Kendall. Roman was unpredictable and Shiv would’ve assumed that you had sold them out and this was a mind game. An opinion she’d probably make clear to everyone else and in some way to you as well.

There had always been significant sibling rivalry in the Roy household. But Shiv had always seen you as her competition in particular, you two were the only women and she lived in a man’s world always striving to prove herself out of spite and nature. Even now she still believed your kinder nature was an act to disarm. She never hid the looks of distrust in her eyes.

You were now home. You still had your apartment and stayed there occasionally but that was more to save face than anything else. Somewhere along the timeline of your relationship, you’d almost practically moved into Stewy’s apartment. The walk-in wardrobe was equally divided, and your favourite teas were in the kitchen. “It’s closer to your office” had been the justification at the time when he’d been encouraging you to stay over more.

It was surprising that you hadn’t been caught yet with that in mind, part of you would sometimes wonder if your siblings did know but they were saving it but you knew that if they did it would’ve come out to slap you in the face by now.

When you’d first met Stewy what felt like a million years ago you never would’ve expected something like this to happen. Then when this all happened and started a few years ago it was still, very unexpected. But he knew probably better than what anyone else would ever be able to comprehend what it meant to get seriously involved with a Roy, even one not involved in the family business. He and Kendall had an interesting friendship and history, with Stewy having been mostly good to your brother. But Stewy was always good to you.

As you let yourself in you kicked off your shoes lost in your thoughts but you quickly noticed Stewy wasn’t back yet. This wasn’t a surprise though, your job meant you got to work more of a typical 9-5. Something you were grateful for, it seemed like life was just one, endless business meeting and opportunity for everyone involved at Waystar.

You’d made yourself a cup of tea and were now leaning against the bench in the kitchen with it while scrolling on your phone. You had Google alerts set for all of your immediate family and Stewy, surprisingly there didn’t seem to be too much drama online today.

“Ugh, fuck!” Stewy’s voice boomed and you heard a bang.

“Shit, Stewy? Are you okay?” You quickly called out as you made your way over to the apartment's entryway.

“Yeah, just tripped over your shoes again.” Stewy responded with an amused expression as he took his shoes off and moved them along with yours out of the way.

This wasn’t the first time it had happened and Stewy knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’m sorry.” You said bashfully as you walked over to hug him, pressing a soft, playful kiss to his lips. “I guess, it’s a good thing you love me.” You kissed him again, teasingly nipping on his bottom lip that was in between yours.

“You’re such a brat baby.” Stewy smirked as his hand wrapped more firmly around your waist and he kissed you back.

“I thought you loved that?” You teased between kisses as each one became more heated and desperate with lust. Despite Stewy often being caught or easily roped into your family drama he was the best distraction, escape and companion from everything.

“I do.” Stewy breathed out as he continued to kiss you and was now kissing your jaw.

“And I love you…” You whimpered out as his lips started to travel down your neck. He now had you pressed against the wall.

“And what is it that you love exactly baby?” Stewy purred out as he nibbled around your pulse point. He was always such a tease.

“I love your hair-” You moaned out as you dug your fingers into his soft, gorgeous curls that were always perfect. “Your voice, eyes, those goddamn turtlenecks, your smile, your colossal vocabulary-”

“Didn’t you say it was farcical the other day?” Stewy said as he stopped kissing you and looked at you.

“Stewy!” You whined out, you couldn’t feel his lips on you any more but you could still feel him against you but it wasn’t enough. You needed him. His gorgeous dark eyes were blown out with lust but he had his signature playful, mischievous smirk painted across his face as he cruelly teased you. “You’re such a tease.”

“I thought you loved that.” He quipped back. You rolled your eyes and took the bait.

“I do, I love how much of a tease you are.” He felt your breath against his neck as you spoke and then pressed a kiss against his neck, breathing him in. He always smelt so good, despite being a bit of a natural peacock it wasn’t showy, it was more subtle but strong enough. You were certain there was sandalwood in his cologne. “I also love how you feel inside of me.” You spoke as your soft lips kissed his handsome jaw, your soft lips a burning contrast against the tickle of his perfectly trimmed beard.

“Someone’s getting laid tonight.” Stewy got out, pressing his hips against you as you continued kissing along his jaw and neck, tugging his now tousled curls.

“That was the plan after all Mr. Hosseini.” You smirked against his neck, feeling him continue to harden against you. He let out a soft, melodic moan as you sucked softly on his neck.

“How does now sound?”

“Perfect.” You left his neck to kiss him on the lips, you moaned against his mouth as his teeth clashed against yours.

One of his hands left your waist to quickly unbutton your pants. Once he’d done that, he quickly slipped a hand in, teasing you as he palmed you and then started to tease your bundle of nerves over your underwear. Your arousal had already started to dampen your underwear and it only grew with his attention. You continued to moan against him, as he gingerly traced a pattern.

“You’re already so wet and I’ve barely touched you.” Stewy teased. “So beautiful and needy.”

Stewy smirked as he felt you press into his hand more, even with the friction of your underwear, you needed more. You wanted him then and there. You kept hungrily kissing him, feeling starved. Stewy snaked a finger under your underwear and rubbed it along your clitoris for a few seconds before dipping it inside of you making you gasp.

“More, please Stewy.” You begged between kisses, panting as he chuckled.

“Such a desperate girl with a needy pussy.” Stewy whispered into your ear as he added a second finger in, he picked up the pace a bit he continued to finger you and his thumb moved to rub over your clitoris a few times. His fingers were covered in your slick and you didn’t have any interest in holding back any of your moans.

You stayed sandwiched between the wall and Stewy, just moving to press your head against his shoulder, the fabric of his blazer muffled some of your moans as he continued to finger you. You looked down and started to undo his belt and pants.

“What do you think you're doing baby?” Stewy asked in a low voice that was just making the space in between your thighs grow into an even bigger pool of dampness, you were melting against him.

“I want you.” You tilted your head up so it was still resting against his shoulder but you were now facing his neck more, you started to kiss his neck again, biting it softly and then licking it. “I want you to fuck me Stewy.”

“Beg.” Stewy breathed out as he let out a little moan as your tongue darted over his pulse point. His fingers were still entering you but not as deep as before and his thumb was painfully slowly, languidly massaging your bundle of nerves.

“Please Stewy. Fuck me, I need to feel you deep inside of me.” You nipped him softly right near his pulse point and revelled in the groan he let out at that. “Please, I’m begging you Stewy. I need you.”

“Tell me exactly what you need.” His thumb cruelly left your clitoris for a moment making you gasp out in shock but he added a third finger inside of you, getting to that soft spot that made you melt and his thumb gently returned to your clitoris after a few seconds.

“I uh, I-I need you. I need you inside of me now Stewy. I need to feel your cock inside of me.” You moaned out. “Nobody has ever and could ever fill me up the way you do. It feels so good, you make me feel so good. Pl-please Stewy. Please.” You mewled out and you couldn’t quite see his face but you knew it would have that beautiful arrogant smirk.

“I’ll fuck you, baby. I just need you to come for me first, you can do that, right? I can tell your desperate little pussy is already so close.” You nodded desperately, he wasn’t wrong. You were close to unravelling, he could tell from your breathing and how you weren’t just flooding his fingers but also clamping around him.

“I’m so close, Stew, fuck.” You moaned out, panting against his neck, it tickled him slightly. You bit your lip and moaned against his neck, he could feel the vibration of it and he loved that, that and the sound of your pleasure. You could feel it coming and gasped into his neck again as you came, Stewy could feel it and smiled as his fingering eased to a slower, gentler pace as you came down from your orgasm.

“How was that?” He smirked as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“It was- it was…” You paused for a moment as your breathing started to settle, your heart was still pounding from that high though. “Good.”

“Good? Only good?” He questioned with a tone of mock hurt.

“Just shut up and fuck me now, please Stew.” You bit his neck, just feeling even more needy for him than you did before.

“I thought you liked my colossal vocabulary and voice?” He teased as he playfully grinded into you “I distinctly remember you saying so a few minutes ago.”

“You’re so mean Stewy.” You giggled softly, gently pulling on the roots of his curls.

“Was that just to get me into your pants?” Stewy paused the grinding, his tone acting as if he was hurt and that the insinuation was possibly true.

“I guess not because that obviously didn’t work very well.” You responded, leaning back against the wall. He raised an eyebrow at you and then looked down at his belt. You rolled your eyes playfully and started to undo his belt, palming him. He was completely hard but you already knew this from when he’d been grinding into you.

“Bedroom baby.” Stewy moaned out as you pulled his hard cock out and rubbed it with one hand.

“You can fuck me here, you’ve done it before.” You pouted and he just chuckled as you kept up with your ministrations.

“You said I was mean, so you’re not getting it here. You can wait the whole ten seconds it takes to walk to the bed. Our bed for me to have my way with you.” Stewy’s voice was low and firm but there was still that natural teasing tone there.

You walked briskly to the bedroom that you two shared and Stewy followed and chuckled over the eagerness of your gait. As soon as you both were in the clean room, you kissed him hungrily again. He smirked and expertly unbuttoned your blouse as you pushed his blazer off. You kicked your pants and underwear off and he quickly followed suit.

Stewy pressed you into the bed and you tugged on the turtleneck he was still wearing to bring him closer to you and then started to push it up off him.

“Do you love my turtleneck baby?” Stewy teased as you did.

“Absolutely love it.” You breathed out with a smirk.

As soon as it was off and thrown to the floor, you were kissing each other again as if you couldn’t survive without the other. You were running your hands over Stewy’s back and up his neck to the luscious locks you loved as he quickly undid your bra. You were both now naked and he continued to kiss you as his hands cupped your chest.

You moaned out as he started to caress you and pinch your nipples. His lips travelled from yours down to your jaw, your throat, he kissed your breasts and teasingly licked along your nipple for a minute as he started to rub your heat with his other hand.

“Please Stewy.” You begged out in a desperate moan as your eyes were closed in pleasure.

“Please, fuck you?” He again teases as he starts to line himself up at your entrance.

“Yes, please that.”

Stewy stopped his teasing and happily obliged after what felt like an eternity of almost edging. He pressed his head into you and you gasped as he did, gently scratching his shoulders as he did. It wasn’t long till he was bottomed out, he waited a few seconds for you to adjust before he started to slowly thrust inside of you, eliciting the most melodic moans he’d ever heard.

“You’re so beautiful and tight, I love being inside of you baby.” Stewy cooed out as his pace quickly picked up a deeper and slightly faster rhythm.

“You feel so good Stewy, so good inside of me.” You mewled out.

Your words were literal music to his ears and it wasn’t long till he was grunting out as his thrusts became deeper and harder.

It was so easy to become lost in Stewy. Especially when he was fucking you like this, having his way with you in the bed you shared. How couldn’t you be lost in him when your eyes were open he was all you could see?

His scent was dizzying as it mixed with the sweat he’d built up from snapping his hips into yours, he was all you could feel, on you and in you, his grunts, words and the filthy sounds you were making together were all you could hear. Stewy was intoxicating, overwhelming, a sensory overload in the most spectacular way.

You were pulling on his hair as you felt him hitting that perfect soft spot deep inside of you. Your bundle of nerves was already sensitive from the teasing and your earlier orgasm and you could feel the warmth of another orgasm building.

Stewy wasn’t clueless about this, he could feel you clenching around him especially as he reached that sensitive spot of yours and you were flooding him in your arousal. Other than the feeling of being buried deep inside of you, Stewy couldn’t think of anything sweeter than the noises of your moan and whimpers and the sounds of the squelches made of him thrusting into you and being met with your juices.

Stewy continued to pound into you, his thrusts were faster and needier, and he was getting close himself. He pressed some sloppy kisses to your neck that warmed your insides up even more with desire and love for him. Stewy’s lips travelled back to yours and you opened your mouth inviting him in as your tongues and teeth passionately attacked each other.

The kiss became deeper and deeper, you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and felt him groan at that against your lips which in turn made you smirk. You two continued to kiss and he started to rub your clitoris with his thumb, you moaned into his mouth at the sweet pressure and slightly writhed under him.

“That feels so good Stew.” You panted out as the kiss broke for a second and you both panted as he continued to thrust into you while rubbing a circular pattern on your bundle of nerves getting closer to their peak.

“You feel so good. I love you.” He panted out between moans, as his eyes rolled back at the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

“I love you too.” You moaned out, as your legs tightened slightly around him and you scratched his back. “I’m, so, so, so close.”

“Yeah? I can feel that baby. Oh fuck, I want you to come for me, come on my cock baby.” He encouraged as he continued. Kissing along your pulse point, fully knowing that would drive you closer to your climax.

You moaned out while scratching his back and pulling on his hair as you unravelled from your orgasm. Stewy smirked against your neck and continued to massage your sensitive bundle of nerves and thrust at the same, perfect speed as you chased your orgasm and rode out that high.

“Thank you, baby, that was so good. I want you to come, to fill me up.” You panted out as you placed a hand to cup his cheek as his hips continued to snap back into yours.

“Fuck, I’m pretty close.”

You dug your nails into his back as he felt you clench around him in the most spectacular way as you orgasmed and post that. He began to chase his own high and you knew he was close as his thrusts spread up and the pace was more sporadic than rhythmic.

After a couple more minutes of thrusts, Stewy grunted and kissed you more desperately than he had all day and finally chased his own climax and finished inside of you. Before he pulled out the kiss changed to a gentle, affectionate one and you lightly combed your hands through his hair and then ran them along his face and jaw as he kissed you like that.

Stewy kissed your forehead softly and then pulled out to go towards the ensuite to get a washcloth to clean up the mess you had made together. He was so firm but gentle with you.

After that, he laid in bed again on his back, you were cuddled into his side, with your head on his warm chest feeling almost half asleep.

“What do you think of marriage now?” Stewy asked interrupting the peaceful post-sex silence. There was an air of playfulness but his voice was softer, quieter, almost sleepy.

“Pardon?” You shifted slightly off his chest to get a better look at his face. You were certain you’d heard him correctly but you weren’t sure if maybe you’d fully given into sleep and this was gibberish or a dream.

“We’ve talked about eloping before.”

“Yeah, yes we have but-”

“I wasn’t joking.” Stewy said as he gently held your chin between his index finger and his thumb. His voice was still soft but it was a bit firmer now, more serious than tired or playful. You bit your lip unsure of what to say as he continued to look into your eyes with his beautiful, diluted ones.

“You know what that would entail Stewy. Your career-”

“I do and-”

“Stewy.” You rested your chin on his chest looking at him. He could see that you were tired.

“So you don’t want to marry me right before your brother and Willa? Maybe a day or two after? Get that IUD out, then pop out a few babies. I’ll even be super fucking generous and get a vasectomy.” His tone was more teasing now and you had a feeling the humour wasn’t completely genuine but partially a cover-up of possible hurt.

“Sweetie, I love you. Can we talk about this tomorrow? Maybe not talk about this ‘post-coitus’.” You offered him a small smile and combed your fingers through his hair, admiring the dark locks and the stunning strands of silver.

“Yes ma’am.” Stewy nodded and kissed your forehead. You settled back into his chest and it wasn’t long until you had dozed off in his arms and on the comfortable pillow of his chest with the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

********

You’d been the only one of your siblings to stay for Connor’s wedding. Weddings were just business opportunities in the world of the Roys, grief couldn’t exist with the market and leadership decisions. You didn’t like how the wedding or death side of that traumatic day went down or how it was handled but unexpected deaths weren’t meant to be convenient or follow logic.

You were now in your deceased father’s penthouse at his wake, having spent most of the morning hiding in a corner from as many eyes as possible. You’d really only spoken to Connor and Willa, your other siblings were in a sitting room being as business-focused as possible.

It had been a little while into the Wake and you were with your siblings when Stewy and the Furnesses came in. Connor and Willa had been the easiest to talk to which wasn’t really anything new. Kendall and you occasionally made little remarks to each other and even you and Shiv exchanged some looks over other people’s comments or well, audacity.

You took Stewy’s handsome face in, he looked well-rested and fresh-eyed despite the fact that he’d been up most of the night with grieving you. He was handsomely dressed and groomed as always. You wanted to be held by him again, to leave and be curled up in a ball with him. Normally you two acted amicably when your paths crossed in the Roy world and public like this. But you were too depressed and exhausted for the usual furtive nature.

He’d hugged and given his condolences to your sister Shiv and then she’d moved on to Sandi. You looked at Stewy and gave him a small smile, he went to give you a hug and a faux kiss on the cheek as he did for Shiv but you needed more than that, you needed him. You genuinely hugged him and pressed your head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat, a firm, undeniable reminder that he was there was always comforting. You didn’t care that your siblings were nearby, it wasn’t an indecent act.

Stewy couldn’t and wouldn’t say no to affection from you ever, let alone in your state in this context. He reciprocated the genuine hug and you held onto him for maybe a few seconds longer than you should’ve if you wanted to avoid the suspicion of your siblings.

You pulled away despite never wanting to do and tilted your head to see that he was looking at you warmly, sympathy written all over his eyes. His hands had moved to softly rest on the sides of your arm, the touch was comforting but could easily be perceived and argued as platonic to an onlooker. He had a small, genuine smile on his face as he looked at you.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You responded back quietly. You wanted to kiss him, you were almost tempted to and then Kendall was quickly whisking Stewy away.

You went back to your corner and eventually, you were joined by Kendall and Roman. You saw that Stewy was making his rounds of small talk and his eyes occasionally wandering, searching for you to see where you were and how you were doing.

“Have you thought about psychoanalysing yourself?”

“What?” You questioned exhaustedly as your mind was pulled away from stealing glances at Stewy by Roman’s words.

“That was a bit too touchy with Ken-doll’s boyfriend.” Roman retorted. “I didn’t realise jumping on your brother’s BFF was one of the five stages of grief.”

“Excuse me?” You now glared at him.

“Oh, I guess it must be a new one they added in. Are you gonna get a model named after yourself? Or are you saving the Roy model for something more fucked up?”

“I’m not doing this Roman.” You sighed in exasperation and walked off to find a glass of wine but were quickly disturbed again.

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually know about you two,” Kendall smirked as he whispered to you.

“What the fuck Ken?” You jumped at the fright from Kendall, you were grateful that you were still empty-handed or else you’d have stained your outfit if not all of your surroundings from your brotherly jumpscare. Your reaction just made Kendall’s smirk grow. “You knew? But Stewy never told you.”

“He didn’t. I figured out a while ago that you two were uh…” He dramatically paused for a moment as if he was thinking of the right word with a teasing smirk. “Copulating.”

“Ken!” You elbowed him softly to try and get him to quieten down. “Why did you never say anything?” You quietly questioned.

“Well, it was pretty fucking weird at first. He’s not the worst Harvard finance bro out there.” Kendall said with a playful expression. “He keeps you happy-adjacent right?”

“Yeah, he does. Thank you.” You gave Kendall a tight-lipped but grateful smile.

“You know, you don’t have to hide it anymore right?”

You looked up at Kendall, questioning him with your eyes. You and Stewy’s relationship was complicated and you’d say it was pretty healthy despite the furtive nature, it had been that way for everyone’s personal and professional sake. Kendall’s smirk started to slowly slip as he took in your expression.

“He’s dead.” Kendall spoke softly as you stared into each other’s eyes, he placed his hand on your arm as his face grew more serious. You eyed Kendall trying to find the right words. Sure your father had been part of it but it was a complicated situation with many pieces.

“I could live with dad icing me out, cutting that relationship. I made peace with what that is a while ago. But-but, it’s when Roman, Shiv, and you. That’s what really hurts.”

“That’ll be all that Roman says and well Shiv, she’ll only say anything about it behind your back.”

“So comforting and reassuring.” You dryly said.

“I’ll send you the invoice for Kendall Roy’s Therapy.” He teased and you both chuckled dryly at that.

There wasn’t much else to say to that and you knew Kendall wasn’t ready to talk about the bigger problems yet so you gave your brother a tight hug that he quickly reciprocated. You stayed in each other’s arms for a few moments, it was healing and reassuring in a way.

You then left to sit on a miraculously empty couch as Kendall went off to talk to Roman and Shiv again about company matters you didn’t want to hear about and that they wouldn’t want to discuss in front of you or Connor anyway. As you sat there, Stewy caught your eyes again and this time he finally came over. He sat next to you on the sofa but left a reasonable, person-sized gap between the two of you.

“Kendall knows, you know.” You quietly state looking at him tiredly, the events of the last 24 hours and your lack of sleep were quickly catching up with you.

“Well, I’m in private equity not acting baby.” You scoff at that and smile, sinking a little further into the sofa.

“Perspicuously not in comedy either, babe.” You say with a smile that grows. You tilt your head to look at his expression, his big beautiful eyes are watching you and there’s the cocky smile plastered on his face that you’re in love with.

“I’ve learnt it’s best to save the wit for the Roys.” He shoots back with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Stewy’s here and he’s being cheeky for your sake. You love that about him, his tongue isn’t biting like your siblings but his humour is a way of showing up.

“Do you want to go on the balcony for a minute?” You questioned. “I want some fresh air.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He leaned his hand over that empty space of safety between you two to squeeze your hand for a second before you got up and he then followed you.

He leant against the railing and watched you once you were both out on the much more, pleasantly quiet balcony.

You laid your head against his chest and wrapped your arms around him, listening to his heart calmly beat as he pressed his chin against the top of your head and exhaled. Stewy’s thumb was tracing reassuring patterns on your arm. He hummed softly for a moment and you could feel the vibration of it on the top of your skull.

You and Stewy both knew this was a sure way to be caught but neither of you cared in this moment and didn’t care about any of the consequences. They were manageable, they felt minor now and realistically they were. This would shift the family dynamic and having furtive hands with your lover always seemed to you to be in the best interests of Stewy’s career and the dramas between him, Kendall and Waystar.

You were pretty okay with being out in the open with Stewy and he felt the same way. As the relationship went on, he wanted that more and more. His post-coitus conversation was serious and not a post-orgasm thought.

“You were serious about eloping before Connor’s wedding weren’t you?”

“Probably poor taste to say it right now but yes baby, dead serious.”

You laughed at that and he felt it vibrate against him and it made him smile. He just wanted to bring you a bit of comfort and joy on an awful day like today.

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“Are you saying you want to get eloped?”

“Well, I was thinking of leaking the story to ATN that Stewy Hosseini is so whipped by the Roys that he gets a vasectomy for one and not the one they’d expect.” You teased, laughing a bit more and he laughed as well.

“Well, as much as I think we could find you something short to wear as an elopement dress, maybe something fun and scandalous like Sharon Tate’s since you like those old flicks. I don’t think we should leave your dad’s wake to go off and elope, might be the cultural upbringing differences but seems a little rude to me.” Stewy teased, you laughed and kissed him on the lips softly for a moment.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“For an elopement?” “Yeah.”

“Perfect.”

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