#kendall roy smut
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lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader
| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist
chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them.
pairing: kendall roy x f!reader
words: 4.6k
warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this.
a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!
**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **
"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy
Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.
As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.
Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.
The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.
“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”
“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”
That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.
“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”
He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.
Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.
Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.
Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.
It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.
Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.
He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.
Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”
“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.
“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”
You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.
“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.
“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.
If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”
Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.
“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”
He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”
You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.
“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.
“They aren’t.”
“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”
You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”
“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”
“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.
The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”
“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.
Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”
You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”
Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.
“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.
But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.
“Just a little.”
“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.
You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”
“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”
You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”
“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”
You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.
“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.
“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.
“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.
“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.
It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.
There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?
“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.
He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”
You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.
You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.
It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.
“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.
Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.
So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”
Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.
The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.
It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.
Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”
“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”
“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”
You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”
Well, okay.
He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.
“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”
Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.
Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.
“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.
“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”
Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.
The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.
He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.
“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”
“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”
“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.
Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.
“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.
He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.
Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.
Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”
Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.
“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.
An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.
You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.
He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.
“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”
“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.
“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”
His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.
Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.
“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”
You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.
For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.
Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.
Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.
He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.
He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”
From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.
“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.
“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”
“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.
“Look where it got me.”
He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”
You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”
#succession#succession writing#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy smut#kendall x reader alliance please rise!!!!
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Could you do some Roman Roy smut headcannons?
Roman Roy ♡ Smut Headcanons
Ah little Romey…We ALL know Roman is the type to catch feelings for someone after they’ve been friends for a while. Slowly increasing the amount of sexual jokes he makes towards them
One day he would call you one day while you were at work, joking about how hard his dick was. You would respond something like “Eww gross Rome, why are you telling me this?” and instantly hear him gulp on the other end
He was speechless, your harsh reaction turning him on. That's when he would really start to see you as more than a friend
You know that scene from Wolf of Wall Street, when Margot Robbie spreads her legs and puts her heel on his head to stop him from getting closer. That's the kind of thing Roman would fantasize about, eventually letting it slip out
So of course once you finally put the pieces together of his little kink, you had to take advantage…
He showed up at your apartment to find you in bed with your legs spread playing with your clit, you were shocked he actually tried to make a move. But when you stopped him and instead told him he could only watch, he was hooked. Now he had to have you
He's had so much in his life handed to him, he liked that you made him work for you
Things would start with mutual masturbation, he loved watching you touch yourself while he jerked off. Teasing him the whole time “Are you going to cum for me already? God so needy for my pussy”
Obviously this boy wants you to degrade him pretty intensely. He doesn’t know why he likes it but when you make him get on his knees for you, and taunt him about how he can’t fuck you, his pants instantly get tighter
Would try to fix any fights, arguments or even little disagreements with sex.
“Will you just sit on my fucking face!” Wants you grinding down on him while you pull his hair, moving his head where you want him. Suffocate him a little…
But I think he would also loveeeee if you were really gentle with him. Calling him a “good boy” and holding his head stroking his hair while he sucks your nipples eeeee
Okayy I think Roman would be super anxious at the thought of accidentally cumming in you and getting you pregnant. Usually pulling out to cum all over your stomach or face
But one day while he was fucking you harder then usual you couldn’t stop yourself from wrapping your legs around him, trapping him in deeper. Instantly he would be whining into your ear, repeating “fuck” under his breath as he came harder then ever
From that moment he would be obsessed with cumming inside you. Still terrified, but it was that thrill that turned him. Especially when it felt like you almost made him do it. By wrapping your legs around him, or not stopping when you're riding him
I think you could get some gooood praise out of Roman while teasing him
You had been straddling his waist, grinding your wet fold along his dick, stopping every time he got close. Eventually he would be panting “Please let me have your pussy, ugh need to be inside of you” and “You’re so good to me, I love you, I love you”
Don't think he would be a fan of wanting to take baths or showers together however, would want to watch you take a bath. Sometimes making it sexual, jerking off while he watches you lather soap everywhere. But most of the time just wanted to vent and ramble to you about whatever’s on his mind
Hes soooooo 😡 i love him
#succession season 4#succession headcanons#succession smut#succession#roman roy#roman roy x reader#roman#roman roy smut#roman roy headcanon#roman succession#kendall roy smut
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𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐕𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 | 𝐋𝐮𝐤𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧
Lukas Matsson x Fem!Reader | Kendall Roy x Fem!reader
Summary: Kendall had always been a competent, steady boyfriend, but there is always, always room for improvement.
Warnings: Language, Politics, Business, Cheating, Mentions of murder, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, CNC, Rough Sex, choking, degradation, ownership kink, dom/sub dynamics. Roman as his own warning.
I am mentally unwell, and so is Matsson.
Due to your perilous schedule as a political and public figure, arguing with your lover had never really made it past scheduling in the smorgasbord of your career. Perhaps that is why Kendall decided to pick unnecessary fights in the middle of a Swedish trip. He felt, and rightfully so, infinitesimally insignificant when compared to the hellscape that is your established career in the American political sphere.
You can see it in the way his broad shoulders hunch slightly, the way his larger lower lip protrudes into a petulant pout.
You're appalled.
"Kendall, you can't be fucking serious," Your first night on Matsson's retreat was scheduled to be filled with myriad orgasms in myriad uncanny positions. You and Kendall should be christening this luxury suite, but, instead you find your voice has climbed to ungodly octaves to a point that you feared you may shatter the glass wall that displayed the quiet Norwegian woods.
You couldn't give even half a shit as to whether others housed in adjoining tree-house suites might hear your furious bickering.
"You're a fucking child," he says lowly, desperately trying to regain control over the situation but only fumbling it by the second, "Do you know that?"
"No!" You exclaim, "Iverson and Sophie are!" He turns his back to you. Your nails dig into the bedsheets, "Those are your actual children, yeah!? When was the last fucking time you called them!? You're too busy measuring your dick against the Swedes- you're too busy to give Rava a fucking call."
"I have met plenty of selfish sociopaths in my day, Kendall, but this is unfathomable." His shadow falls over you like a second cloud in the already darkened suite's interior.
"Did she put you up to this?" He asks in that manic state of his with his hand pointed outward in condemnation of his most recent enemy.
"Are you aware that you have children together? You will know her for the rest of your life, are you aware of that?"
Kendall is quick to deflect, "Fuck! I can't catch a fucking break. Of course you run to my ex and- and- what? You fucking-meet up at Tasha's. Fucking talking about Kendall's cock-rings over your croissants."
You withhold the urge to laugh by letting a wave of fury wash over you anew. "You didn't even tell them their grandfather died before you dragged us out to fucking Norway, Kendall! That's unhinged! You're unhinged!"
"I'm perfectly hinged!" He says, turning away from you, pyjama pants billowing as he grabs his keys and a pack of cigarettes, "I'm like the doors on fucking Downing street, motherfucker," He speaks lowly. Voice simmering. "I'm fucking hinged."
The door slams with finality, leaving you clinging to your robe in front of a backdrop full of trees.
There's a deeply sated sigh that leaves your throat as you haul yourself over the Egyptian linen sheets. Fighting with Kendall had always been an impossible feat- something akin to yelling obscenities at a brick wall smeared with cocaine, but it always left you marginally satisfied after. A part of you felt like you might be saving him.
There is a frown, slight and not at all visible in the low evening light, drifting across your face as you stare down at yourself with disappointment and a hint of disapproval. Kendall was supposed to rip this robe right off you the second you got out of the shower. But, instead, you find yourself turning on your side, staring at the pines beyond the glass.
The sound of the door clicking open, ruins the serenity that had begun to settle.
"I for sure thought you'd gone and blown your head off for real this time, Ken." You mumble monotonously while staring ahead at the glass.
"While all these hungry vultures at my retreat does make me lean into the sound of suicide, I quite enjoy living."
You're quick to pull your unravelled rope across your frame as you sit up against the oak headboard.
"Not Kendall." He says.
Matsson towers enough to hunch slightly and disrupt the flow of the sleek, vertical finishes.
"Why are you here?"
"Well it is my retreat."
He smiles. Or at least you believe that he believes he is smiling. Sharks can't smile, you don't think.
"My house."
Lukas shoves his hands in pockets as he continues to stare at you. His disciplined eyes never stray or drift across your exposed legs, they never gloss over your deadly grip on the tightened robe digging into the plushness across your middle.
He's staring at you. Eyes boring into eyes.
"I've come to deliver a noise complaint."
"Consider it delivered."
He does not leave. Instead, he delves deeper into your space, the space shared with your boyfriend. You watch carefully as Matsson plants himself on the edge of the bed. There is an air of nervousness that bristles throughout the Norwegian woods as he brings one leg up to cross the other. You watch, entranced by how the soft Tom Ford sweatpants crease slightly under his fluid movements. His beige Balenciaga shirt sits comfortably and it elicits a sense of control as he makes himself comfortable in front of you.
The one thing you could never allow yourself to be was intimidated, and intimidation is all you heard from the mouths that affirmed this man. However, the subtle yet suffocating label whoring, the designer sandals…
He was just another man, suffocated by the weight of his own money. He had everything to prove. That gave you control.
"I didn't know when Kendall brought me on this trip that I was to be subjected to an invasion of privacy,"
"I heard you the first time," He says, chuckling in complete condescension, "I am aware you're here with Kendall. You don't have to bring him up the whole fucking time."
"Are you here under work pretences then? I'm not involved in the hellscape that is ATN, nor the Nazi wonderland that is Waystar so I would make a lousy spy."
"I know who you are," his eyes dart away, giving you enough time to break slightly, take heavier breaths and compose yourself, "I've seen the work you are… attempting to accomplish in that flaccid dick of a country," His gaze is back on you, "And while I do applaud you, politics bores me. You're all fucked anyway, I just came here to enquire if you would like to have sex with me?"
The manner in which he says those words, so calmly and succinctly, has you praying for another moment of regeneration while he darts his eyes away.
"You mean the noise complaint was a fluke?"
"In addition to the noise complaint, I would like to sleep with you, yes."
You're practically suffocted with the over abundance of choice. Matsson would be a fun and interesting side project for you to sink your claws into and manipulate with the added advantage of sex.
But there is a darkness lurking behind this man's gaze that promises far too much risk with little to no reward.
"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for stopping by, Lukas. It was certainly not a pleasure talking to you-"
You speak calmly, shuffling off the bed so you can escort him to the door. "Please find yourself outside of my personal and habitual space kindly and quickly-" but the axis tilts, and he does a daring thing by encircling a strong grip on your forearm. You try to lurch your arm out of his iron grip but it's fucking sealed around you like a constricting python. The darkness seems so incredibly poignant. God, all this man holds is darkness.
"I did not ask for myself." He says with a hint of condescension, "I asked for you." Matsson has you locked between his spindly legs while your robe billows open. Your face warms as you feel coolness settle against your exposed stomach but Lukas' eyes never leave your own.
From this angle, there is no chance to look away. Everything is maximised, from the wrinkles running like river channels underneath his bright blue eyes to the slight overbite in his teeth, perhaps his only external flaw.
What a dangerous individual.
"They're Roys." Lukas says, "He's a Roy," You suddenly feel juvenile and bashful, as you take the scolding, "You should know better,"
You're only vaguely aware that the distance between you two has been lessening because the air feels warmer. His breath is mixing with yours and his hand is doing a funny little dance along your forearm. "You should know better," He says.
And perhaps you should have closed the distance, perhaps you should have chased him away. You certainly should not have waited for a pair of irregular footsteps approaching to finally push the lumbering man away from you. Thankfully, he kindly obliged although Matsson's hand stalled, still rubbing against your elbow when Kendall stumbles in.
"Uh, what the fuck are you doing here? What the fuck is he doing here?" Kendall's eyes are tired and bloodshot and you step away from Lukas' gravitational pull as you curl into Kendall's side. Kendall's suede Versace jacket is cool but his skin is warm as you burrow into the side of his neck. Your guilt worsens as you feel Kendall's arm curl around your waist.
You speak into Kendall's ear, loud enough for Lukas to hear, "Matsson is still trying to rape your company, I'm afraid. " You say with a lazy smile.
"Already raped," Says Lukas, shuffling passed the two of you, "Logan was the decision maker, remember?"
Before the man finds himself over the threshold, Kendall speaks up.
"Hey, no more private visits, yeah? Not cool."
You watch with bated breath as Matsson only cracks a toothy lopsided grin before tapping the wood of the doorframe and disappearing.
That evening had ended, like most of the evenings to come, with angry, jealousy-fueled sex. There had always been a distinct animosity between Kendall and Matsson but whatever had been in the air seemed to triple. Kendall kept you close during the entire experience. He kept you under Kremlin-level surveillance but he couldn't be with you all the time. In the moments you found yourself without Kendall, Matsson would appear from out of the shadows like a demon, slinking behind you with a hand ghosting your hip. He watched you from above the rim of whiskey-filled tumblers and even asked for your input whenever conversation within the group got a little political. One such conversation had the unfortunate interjection of one Roman Roy, who saw you as another toy in his toy box.
"What do you need two assistants for anyway?" The grinding of your teeth come to a deafening halt as you turn your head to face the youngest Roy. The smile on your face is amicable, some might even call it polite, but it is a well enough facade veneering the tempest brewing beneath.
"What- does Jess hold your balls while you tell knock-off Maya Angelou here" He points to you, "-to bend her head and suck?"
There were a number of things you simply allowed when it came to your courtship with Kendall Roy. You would even shame yourself into admitting that you might have found Kendall's overall emotional incompetence and dysfunctional family quite endearing in the beginning. But, like every magnificent, spine curling orgasm, the magic ebbed away quickly and soon, you were left with nothing but the wetness of his cum, cooling between your thighs.
That is what Kendall and his siblings were like most times.
Cooling, diabolical cum.
"Rome, come on." And therein lay Kendall's consistent, valeant response, of which he chose to defend you.
Rome. Come on.
Simply hearing those words leave his brother's mouth with even the faintest hint of disapproval sent Roman into a frenzy (you could see his pupils dilating and his cock hardening from your spot on a couch adjacent to Roman and Shiv). Matsson's entire foyer was set alight with amicable, drunken murmurs, of which Greg's nervous whimpers were occasionally heard peppered in.
Tom had retired to bed, (whether that would be in the same suite as Shiv, would be a satisfactory cup of tea you would divulge with your girlfriends later.) Matsson and his followers sat in their own private harem in a corner beside you.
"What?" Roman cries, slamming back a handful of ground nuts (an admittedly clever substitute for Swedish alcohol) "I was just asking a question. I know your people like to claim reparations for a lot of shit these days but I'm sure enquiring about the girl my big brother's fucking doesn't equate to slavery."
Although you hated the little demon with every bright blue blood cell running through your arteries, you did admire the sure-fire way he would spit his hateful vitriol.
"I appreciate the faux-concern, Roman." You keep it curt, cute and even forgiving, hoping he might take the win and leave you to down the last of your Hennessey in peace.
"That's your cue," Kendall announces, "Drop it."
"Look at how wet she's getting from my rich white brother finally using his voice to defend her for once." The conversation between the Swedes had long since ceased and your throat clogs as the music tins through hidden speakers. "Kenny so clearly has a type," Says Roman, now facing his brother with his elbows steepled on his knee. "I bet you couldn't wait to dive into that plethora of liberal pussy, could you, big brother?"
Your patience had long since snapped and your words are flying before you could stop them, "Considering you couldn't even get pussy without catching a rape charge or an incredibly disappointed prostitute, I'll assume this pseudo-incest interest you have in Kendall's sex life is normal,"
Roman only laughs, "No amount of sick burns is going to release you from the fact that your fucking a crackhead. Maybe it's the money," he taps the bottom of chin in a flamboyant display of consideration, "Although if it's raping our company that's your main goal, the Swedes might have you beat." Matsson straightens in your periphery, not by a lot but by enough to have a stoney smile cracking across your face.
"ATN is not my vice. Racist Propaganda doesn't get me as wet as it gets you, Roman."
"How convenient. I thought all Leftys held special orgys dedicated to besmirching racist propoganda."
Your response was already loaded in the back of your throat, aimed and ready to fire at Roman with reckless abandon. If it weren't for Lukas' interjection, you would have hoped to leave the little man bleeding all over Matsson's marble floors.
"You let him talk to your woman like that?" The rest of the party had left this specific ring of people behind, but that seemed okay. Everyone within the circle, the important people, were silent as Matsson turned his attention to a floundering Kendall.
"Maybe worry about your situation over there and I'll worry about mine."
"I'm not worried." Says Lukas, with a fierce stoicism that was so unique to him. Your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly as the couch groans while Lukas begins to rise. His friends each hold knowing smiles. Hungry smiles.
"Would you like to know why I'm not worried?" Asks Lukas, advancing with a slow gait. You turn your head just in time to watch Kendall's Adam's apple against his throat. He was speechless as per usual when the discussion didn't involve drugs or stock prices.
"Ask." Says Lukas as he advances. "Ask me why I'm not worried."
Upon you first meeting, you had found Lukas' height to be quite rude and unbecoming. You expected him to duck down, almost out of courtesy for the rest of the world laying low underneath him. As his shadow falls over you and Kendall, you find yourself grateful for this giant man making your boyfriend feel small for once- almost as small as you were made to feel around the Roys.
"Why aren't you worried?" Kendall's voice is still masked with confidence as he peers up at Matsson.
Matsson, who's teeth glint in the low evening light, like a hungry shark. He bends down low. You move slightly out of the way as he whispers into Kendall's ear.
"Because I'm gonna fuck her, okay?"
Absolute silence grows pregnant between the two and you're left to do nothing but watch as the exchange unfolds and Kendall's perceived control over everything and everyone unravels. His mouth opens and closes slightly while Matsson watches with a sadistic sort of pleasure in his eye…
"What the fuck did you just say to me?"
"Nothing," Says Lukas, having returned to his full height. "I didn't say anything. I just asked your-" His blue eyes darts to you and back, "-friend, if she'd like to see my bookshelf in the living room. I saw her reading Bronte earlier," Matsson shrugs, "Thought I might extend the invitation."
Lukas is not one to wait for confirmation, nor is he a man that waits for validation. He shuffles out his foyer, quite comfortably leaving present company behind with his hands stuffed in his pockets. No rebuttal from Kendall needed.
"Where the hell do you think you're going? What are you doing?" You lift yourself from the couch, ironing out the invisible creases on your plaid Chanel skirt as your eyes dart to Roman, now in idle conversation with Siobhan.
"They're just books, Kendall." You sigh softly. "You can't honestly believe I'd be any safer here." You deliver one final gaze at his lesser appealing siblings before following Matsson out of the foyer. The amount of people congesting the dark corridors lessen as you venture further into Matsson's abode. The walls are built with a dark, heavily sanded stone. Something casting a very ominous, yet unmistakably earthy glow throughout the corridor as the mouth spills into a large and defining living room. The colours are dark. The coal walls are all encompassing and Matsson stands beside a low leather couch, waiting rather awkwardly for your arrival.
"There is no library or bookshelf." He says with his hands still stuffed in the pockets of his sweats.
"I figured. You strike me as someone that would keep all their books stored on some gadget."
"Technology and leisure are the two civilizers of man," He says, watching you with bated breath as you slink around his living room, eyeing but never once prodding his things.
"Don't misquote Disraeli, it's not very attractive."
Matsson seems to relax at that, opting to take a step closer to you as he speaks, "I'll misquote Disraeli as much as I want. The 'increased means and increased leisure' part seems a little far-fetched." Your heart begins to hammer in your chance at the advancing man and you turn, whether out of cowardice or bashfulness, choosing rather to examine the sculpture along his mantle.
Your back begins to straightens as warmth radiates from him. He does not move but he cages you in. You would not be able to leave his sphere even if you wanted to.
"We don't have to fuck, obviously. It just didn't seem safe for you to stay in that situation."
You turn slowly and you find yourself slightly jarred by Matsson's proximity. His turtleneck hugs a string and definite build and the hunger in his eyes melts all inhibitions.
"I don't need saving."
"I'm talking about the little angry man." He says, referring to Roman. "I've seen your debates. It's the little nugget of American politics I find myself quite entertained by and I have no desire to wipe a Roy's blood off my floors this evening."
His words end up snapping any and all inhibition as you're throwing yourself quite mercilessly at him. The kiss is silent but so inexplicably charged allowing you to bump into various pieces of furniture in the process of pushing you up against the nearest stone wall. A wall that is cold to the touch, eliciting a surprised gasp which fuels Lukas all the more. He displays wet slobbering kisses down the nape of your neck as he murmurs drunkenly in your ear.
"I like seeing you like this. I like seeing you among my things." The conviction present in his gravelly vibrato has a pool of wetness gathering in between your legs. Your arm circles around his broad back until your pulling, rather roughly at the blonde hair curling at the nape of neck. This had consequently been a morbid mistake because his grip travels to your throat lightning fast, compressing a dangerous weight on your oesophagus as he rips his lips away from your throat.
"You don't get to do that," he says far too casually. "You don't get to assume control when you are here in my house with my things."
Matsson keeps his eye trained on you but your focus in compounded, solely, on his wandering hand tracing the hem of your skirt. "Hey, hey, hey." As you strive to keep watch of his wandering hand, Matsson moves his head into your line of vision.
"My things. Yeah? You're apart of that now."
As his hand inches underneath your skirt you're suddenly flooded with a wave of unfamiliar emotions - fear being the most poignant and defining one.
"I don't want to do this anymore-" You're not sure whether you mean it or not but you're quite certain that Matsson doesn't care. You're suddenly truly aware that you had released something you don't really know how to control.
"Bullshit, you don't want to do this anymore." You finally feel his hand sliding into your panties and your legs wavers underneath you, "Your words say stupid shit," Sings Lukas as his fingers ghost over your swollen clothes, "But your cunt just can't seem to lie." His grip on your throat tightens before relaxing as he brings your head up to his lips. "You're fucking soaked."
"I'll fucking sue you," Although you're unable to assume a single confident tone as his fingers begin to play with your cunt, "I'll fucking take you to court for fucking assault, motherfucker."
"You wanna call Kendall for assistance?" He asks, slyly pushing his middle finger deep inside you with no regard for your strangled gasp. "Here, let's call him together. Say 'Kendall!'"
The only thing able to leave your mouth is a straggled moan as Matsson keeps you pinned to the wall by the throat. The sound of your voice - so incoherent and helpless has him evading any sliver of decency he might have had. "Fuck, you're so perfect." He places a chaste kiss on your cheek before spinning you around until he is sandwiched between your body and the wall. "I have to fuck you."
"Watch the door for me," he says, pulling your hips right up against the bulge in his pants. "Watch just in case Kendall, shows up. Right, sweet girl?"
You're nodding dumbly as Lukas hunches his tall frame while grinding his bulge into your backside. He has your skirt lifted, and his shadow casted over you as he murmurs diabolical things into your ear.
"God, you're a fucking slut, you're such a fucking slut." He keeps a grip on your throat while the unoccupied hand reaches around to lift your shirt haphazardly, "No amount of smart ass comments will ever hide the fact that you're just another whore." The casual air with which he degrades has you simultaneously humping the air while you push back against his bulge. It is in that moment when he finally decides to release his aching cock from his sweatpants dotted with precum.
"Jesus Christ, feel how hard you made me. Feel how fucking turned on I am just because you decided to be a stupid slut." You can feel the head of his cock pressing into you until you're unable to hold in the desperation.
"Jesus- Lukas!"
"What? You want me to fuck you? I think you want me to fuck you but I'm not sure." You're unsure of what he's asking, too blinded by the possibility of a carefully curated orgasm.
"Go on." He says, "Ask me to fuck you. Ask me to fuck your pussy while your boyfriend waits just downstairs."
There are tears pooling in your eyes at the sheer lewdness and the unapologetic quality of this betrayal, but your mouth opens and soon, you're shakily crying out. "Please just fuck me, Lukas."
His cock rams into you with a surety that leaves you winded. He seems as if his patience had been waning as well, what with the haggard sigh that leaves his throat and the numerous disquiet groans that float in the air. Despite yourself, you do keep a half-lidded gaze on the entrance, not put off, but rather spurred on with the possibility of your boyfriend finding you being railed by his latest rival. The thought alone has you clenching around Lukas' cock with your orgasm cresting.
"Whatever you're thinking about, I'm going to need you to think about it again- you're so fucking tight."
There's an animalistic quality to the sex- being bent over for him while he rests against a wall, a firm grip on your throats and your tits as he rams himself into you again and again.
It's far too much.
You wouldn't think there was something so ruthless hiding underneath such a calm veneer but that's all it is. All it always had been. A veneer.
"You're not with him anymore, do you hear me?"
"Fuck- Lukas I'm gonna cum soon," his grip on your throat tightens until it vacuums out any and all air. Your hand encircles his wrist, begging for release but to no avail.
"Tell me," he says as he continues to fuck mercilessly into you, "Tell me you don't belong to him." He finally gives you lee-way to talk and you're gasping out your response, "I don't. I don't belong to him," he nods slightly, brows firing as he bites into your shoulders.
"Fuck- I didn't plan to cum inside you-"
"I don't fucking care- I'm really close." Lukas nods quickly before releasing your neck to drag your cheek until your faces are pressed together in a smouldering kiss. "Fuck I'm gonna cum inside you-"
His words already have you diving headfirst into a groundbreaking orgasm. You're crying out helplessly, until Matsson has enough sense to cover your mouth with one large hand. He fucks you through it, filling you with cum as he groans just as loudly as you had been.
"Fuck," he chuckles quietly, "Kendall is not going to like that."
"Kendall," You breath heavily, safely contained in Lukas' comforting grip, "Is not my Keeper."
Lukas delivers a chaste kiss on your cheek, his stubble grazing against the side of your face.
"I plan on killing them anyway." He says, simultaneously unaware and aware that he's drifting into pillowtalk.
"Every last one of them."
#lukas matsson fanfic#lukas matsson smut#lukas matsson x reader#succession fanfic#succession#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy x you#kendall roy smut#lukas matsson#succession season four#succession spoilers#succession smut#lukas matsson x you#lukas matsson x black!reader#kendall roy x black!reader
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if you’re going crazy just grab me (and take me)
kendall roy x f!reader (smut) 1.7k words
(summary : sometimes, he really needs you to need him.)
You get no context from your boyfriend as he pulls you through the halls. His hand swallows yours while you speedwalk to keep up with his long strides. A few strange looks are thrown your way from workers at Waystar as the CEO’s stoic son keeps you hot on his trails. It takes everything in you to maintain a straight face, avoiding shrugging at the worried onlookers. The older Roy is sure he’d be reprimanded for his actions by his father but in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care. He can barely focus on anything anymore, red-hot anger taking over his sight a long time ago. In moments like this, it’s almost as if he has tunnel vision.
Only able to see you, pass himself off to the only person he trusts enough to take it out on; The one who can hold him in her hands, and fill him with a need and pride he can’t get anywhere else. All he can focus on is the silky fabric of your dress swaying against your thighs and the way your cheeks are appled from the size of your smile.
The two of you make it into a tiny room, storage of sorts with old desktops and dust files layered about. “I just about, uh, twisted my ankle,” Kendall exhales a small, tension-filled chuckle, pulling you into him with his hand on the small of your back. The adorable sound of your laugh brings a tiny smile to his lips, widened as he kisses you breathlessly.
“We’ll never hear the end of this,” You pull away, face hot. “Roman was already starting before we even left the room,”
The older man shrugs a little. “Let him publicize,” His fingers trace the hem of your dress, teasingly sliding it upwards. “I’ll just deny it all,”
You scoff, “As if we didn’t just run past a few dozen of your dad’s workers. That’ll be a little hard to sell, Ken.” He sighs into your neck, something along the lines of you being ‘so dramatic’ before leaning over to pepper kisses on the side of your throat.
“Fine,” He begins. “Let me worry about that…” Kendall begins walking you backward, slowly leading you to some old desk in the corner. “And you can focus on something else for a little bit.”
Once again, overexcited giggles drop from your lips as your boyfriend hoists you onto the wood. You feel his fingers trace over your dress hem again, breath hitching at the slight tickle. Deep brown eyes stare into yours, calculating every reaction as he slowly reaches the apex of your thighs.
“Tell me. Tell me you want it,” He commands you with his gaze and his words, pinning you to the table.
“I want it. I want it, Kendall,” You whisper, leaning your head down to watch where his hand is hidden beneath the skirt of your silk slip dress.
He moves slowly, so slowly as he drags his fingers over your covered cunt, inhaling sharply at what he feels. “Do you always walk around this fucking wet?” Kendall spits out, as if he’s angry. “Just always fuckin’ ready for me, huh?” His forehead settles against yours as the two of you watch together, his covered hand. He pushes the fabric of your panties aside, allowing the pads of his fingers to swipe against your clit.
He feels your gasp more than he hears it, despite the proximity of your faces together. His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he focuses on how to angle his fingers. You breathe deeply as he rubs your clit in the sweetest circular motion. Nothing around you matters as you close your eyes, leaning into the feeling of your boyfriend’s hand in your underwear. “Open your eyes,” He gruffs out, taking hold of your jaw in his other hand. How can you not obey his command immediately? He stares into you as he pushes his fingers inside of you, pushing so perfectly deep. “Tell me you need it,” He begs, curling his fingers in a come-hither motion.
Jaw hanging open in his hand, you let out the sweetest moans as he sinks in and out. You focus on the pleasure, unable to think about anything other than how good he is making you feel. He’s not a fan. Your face gets shaken in his grasp, attaining your attention once more. “Tell me you fucking need me.”
The words spill out of you, begging and pleading. “I need you so bad, Ken, please, fuck me, please,” His fingers pick up motion, the squelch of your wetness filling the air as he stares down into your eyes.
“You need me.” He promises, almost to himself, before kissing you harshly on your open mouth. He swallows your moans, still focused on curling his fingers just right for you. You kiss him back, sloppily, reaching for his belt.
“I need you,” You whisper back against him. “All of you,” The sound of his belt unclasping and your breaths intermingling in the air are heard throughout the room. You sharply inhale as he pulls his fingers out of you, reaching down to pull himself out of his pants. Using the wetness from your cunt, he runs his wet fingers over his cock.
“Spit on it,” He commands, watching as you purse your lips together to drop your saliva on him. He pumps himself a few times, before falling to his knees in front of you.
You’re surprised as he pulls you suddenly to the edge of the desk, hands gripping your plush thighs tightly. “What are you-” You’re cut off by a moan when you feel his mouth suddenly enclose over you, tongue sliding through your folds. You can hear the wet schlick sound of his hand jerking over himself as he messily lapped at your pussy, and for a moment you wonder if any of the Waystar assholes can hear your boyfriend fucking you inside this small, stuffy supply closet. The thought is knocked out of your head when he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks with just the right amount of pressure.
“Kendall!” You cry out at the sudden spike of pleasure, feeling his grip on your thigh tighten as a warning to lower your voice. “Please, fuck me, please, please…” You whine as you hear the pace of his hand pick up from below the desk.
He raises to full height above you, shoving the dress up your hips before meanly hiking your legs up. He uses one hand to shove his work pants a little lower down his legs, before gripping his cock, leading it to your pussy. He pushes the blunt head to you, slowly pushing into you. A free hand comes up to cover your mouth, just in time, to drown the muffled cries that escape you as he reaches the hilt.
He breathes harshly, eyes screwed shut as you drag your fingers down the back of his work button down. You whimper beneath his hand, making his cock twitch inside of you. “I’m gonna move, baby, you have to be quiet,” He slowly pulls all the way out, before steadily pushing himself back in. He feels you nod your head as if promising your silence, and he allows himself to pick up speed.
Your cries are muffled under his big hand, covering half of your face. Your watery eyes look up at him like he’s a God as he pushes his hips back and forth against yours, the sound of skin clapping loudly through the room. The feeling of the old desk moving inch by inch as he piledrives himself into you doesn’t deter him. If anything, it makes him go even harder.
The look of adoration in your eyes makes his head a little dizzy as he continues to fuck you, training his hand down to play with your clit. You need him.
His other hand slowly moves from your face, down to your throat where he squeezes just hard enough to make you squeak a little. He can’t help the wide grin that takes over his face, angling his hips to fuck you perfectly into your sweet spot as he deprives your pretty little head of oxygen. Just a little, though. Just enough to get you to come apart on his cock.
He feels you slowly start to build, and he works hard at making sure not to change a single thing about what he was doing to you. You feel your climax slowly build, struggling to breathe through it under Kendall’s heavy palm. A tear slides down the side of your face as you whimper pathetically around his dick, causing Kendall to rut his hips even harsher into you. He chases his climax, abandoning your throat to use your hips as handlebars.
The two of you stay where you are, slowly breathing one another in, still a little dizzy from the pleasure you just peaked from.
You press a kiss against his forehead sweetly. “I love you, Ken. I love you.”
He pulls his pants back up, bucking his belt before letting his legs finally rest, sitting on the floor. Your dress gets pulled down, and panties fixed into place.
The sexual tension leaves the room, replaced with a different kind of thick air. Wordlessly, you slip down onto your knees, straddling his hips.
Kendall catches his breath, head tipped back with his eyes closed. His hands come back to rest on your hips, softer this time, almost apologetic. You press your face into his neck, inhaling his expensive cologne before pressing kisses sweetly, slowly treading from his neck to his cheeks, over to his nose, and up to his forehead.
He cracks his eyes open after, feeling his heart warmed at the amount of love he can feel rolling off of you in waves. “What happened, Ken?”
He stares at you with unreadable eyes, before shaking his head softly. That’s okay. He’ll be ready to talk about it later, once he’s wrapped sweetly in your arms in your plush bed. He kisses you, gently, filled with as much gratitude as he can pack into a singular gesture.
Your nod is soft and your words are even softer. “Okay. Let’s go home, my love,”
He nods back, but when you go to move, his arms tighten around you.
So you sit there in his arms, holding the breaking man in your gentle palms for just a few moments longer.
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can you do kendall roy fluff + only one bed? ☺️
Forced Proximity.
i. Only One Bed
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here. oh my GOD i love this man. i am a kendall roy defender until i die. i am a kendall girly first and a human being second. (okay so admittedly I wrote this before watching episode 8... ken, me and you are gonna have words.)
Pairing - Kendall Roy x Assistant!Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing
Word Count - 881
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
Another day, another business meeting.
You're in London, this time around. You and Kendall jumped on a flight at the drop of a hat, jetting across the world to appease yet another rich white man. It was part of your job description, after all. Wherever Ken goes, you go. Just him and his best assistant against the world.
You've been awake for what feels like an eternity when you finally arrive at your hotel. You'd made sure to book two conjoining rooms, as always - Kendall likes to have you close. Just in case, he says.
You practically run to the front desk, desperate to shower and jump into a fluffy white bed. The universe, apparently, has other plans.
"So that's room 414 all ready for you, ma'am."
Her English accent doesn't soften the blow of the shock as much as you expected it to.
"Wait... what? Sorry, I'm sleep deprived. I booked two conjoining rooms."
"It says here you only booked one."
"Please," you beg. "I definitely booked two. Do you at least have another room available? I'll just book it now."
She clicks away at the keyboard, acrylic nails hitting the plastic rhythmically.
"I'm really sorry. There's an event happening, it's this huge wedding and the bride is some sort of celebrity and literally every room is full."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was, ma'am."
And that's how you found yourself apologising profusely to Kendall while dragging your luggage down a never ending hotel hallway.
"God, could this day get any worse? I'm so fucking sorry, Ken."
He stops walking and turns to face you directly.
"It's fine. Stop stressing, please. You're making me fuckin' nervous."
You sigh with relief, and join him in his laughter. You can survive one night, surely.
You swing open your door, to be met with the sight of the biggest hotel bed you've ever seen. Bed. One bed.
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
Kendall stays silent, slight smirk on his face. He always thinks you're at your cutest when you're mad.
"God, Ken, again, I'm so sorry. I think the universe hates us."
"You've only figured that out today?"
He chuckles, and the sound calms you down ever so slightly.
"Look, honey, we can sleep top to tail, or I'll sleep on the floor, or in the fucking bathtub. But we're both exhausted, and standing and staring at the bed isn't helping."
He's right. Fatigue is plaguing your bones, practically seeping out of your pores. You need to lie down.
"I'm not gonna make you sleep on the floor, Ken. That's the biggest bed I've ever seen. There's room for the both of us."
He can't argue with that.
You both get ready for bed, taking your respective turns. You never realised how intimate a nighttime routine can be. You feel like you're seeing a side of your boss that's reserved only for him.
You both slide into a side of the bed, making sure to put an adequate distance between you. You roll so your backs are facing each other, to save any awkwardness. Kendall turns off the light, and settles down.
"Goodnight, Ken."
"Goodnight, sweetheart."
You fall asleep the minute your head hits the pillow.
You're awoken by breathing. Not the steady, rhythmic breathing of someone asleep. No, the half panicked, willing-himself-to-sleep kind of breathing.
"Ken?" you whisper. "Are you awake? What's wrong?"
You turn to face him, and make out the shape of him lying on his back in the dark.
"Fuck, did I wake you? Sorry, honey. Just can't sleep."
"You're exhausted. Thought you'd be out like a light."
"Can I tell you something?" he questions quietly.
"Anything."
"I haven't been sleeping."
"For how long?"
"Months. Maybe like a year? I don't know. I go through phases."
"Have you talked to someone?"
"I, uh, tried to. But they wanted to give me pills. I didn't wanna take them, so."
You roll onto your back, mirroring his position. In the dark, you reach out and grab his hand that rests on the bed between you.
"Proud of you," you whisper. "Can't have been easy to say no."
He doesn't know what to say, so he simply laces his fingers with yours, and squeezes a little tighter.
"Do you think it's because you sleep alone?" you ask quietly after a while.
"Honestly? Maybe. I got used to having Rava for so long. Then Naomi. I always sleep better with someone else."
You inch closer to him, using your interlocked hands as leverage. You move so your arms are pressed against each other, your head resting on his shoulder.
"So do I," you whisper. "Don't know if it's the breathing, or the body heat, or just not being lonely. Whatever it is... you have me."
"Yeah?" he asks breathily.
"Yeah."
With that, he pulls you in to him, arms wrapping around you. You rest your head on his chest and exhale.
You settle into the comfort of the warmth of his chest. The smell of your shampoo slowly calms Kendall, his heart slowing and evening out. Within minutes, his breathing becomes steady and rhythmic, body fully relaxed. You join him in slumber almost instantly.
When you wake in the morning, Kendall tells you to only ever book one room from now on.
#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy x reader#murphy's 500 followers celebration#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader fluff#kendall roy fluff#kendall roy x reader smut#kendall roy smut#kendall roy x assistant!reader#kendall roy x assistant reader#succession fanfic#succession fic#succession#succession x reader#succession x reader fluff#succession fluff#jeremy strong#kendall roy fic#kendall roy fanfic#succession smut
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Forever Mine (Kendall Roy Succession Request)
Pairing: Kendall Roy (Succession) x F! Reader
Rating: Explicit (Breeding Kink/ Jealous Kendall)
Word Count: 2.1k
Request: "Hiii Scarlett!!! I LOVE to read your kendall roy writings💜 can you write something about kendall trying to get you pregnant( bc I LOVED breeding kink) ?? Or having rough sex bc getting jealous of one of his friends' attention to u??"
Author's note: Thank you so much for this excellent request, I kind of combined the two ideas into the below fic for you 🥰💕
Forever Mine
"How can a company that makes more money than really exists in the world still need more investors?" You sighed into your fizzing glass of champagne as you continued to circulate through the crowd, Gerri stifling a laugh at your side.
"How'd you think the rich stay rich? They never use their own money for anything." She feigned a smile as a group of men shuffled past, their metaphorical wallets straining against the fabric of their designer suits as they moved. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go make them all feel important, so I can keep my job." You could see her eyes roll as she plastered on a fake smile and left you stood by the bar, hoping that Kendall would get bored soon enough and call it a night for the both of you. You never minded being his plus one to events like this, the chance to see him in his charming element not one you'd pass up, Ken stealing glances your way all night with a smile on his face that he only wore for you. But after a few hours the conversations always wore a little thin, and you usually found one of the old guard hovering beside you to make sure you weren't doing anything that might get people commenting.
"Are you waiting for a drink?" An strangely familiar voice snapped you back to reality, spinning on your heels to find a tall, well-built man in his fifties smiling at you like a lion spying a gazelle.
"No, I'm all set thank you, just pausing here for a moment." You replied with a courteous smile, taking a small step backwards as if you were blocking the bar that spanned the length of the decadent hall.
"Would you mind if I 'pause' with you for a moment?" It was then that you placed his suave voice in your mind, the man an up-and-coming congressman that couldn't stop appearing on ATN news shows, repeating whatever lines Logan's team had written from him that day. As he leaned over the bar to ask for a whiskey you took the opportunity to glance around for an exit plan, but with groups of investors all deep in conversation on every side of you, you swallowed the acid in your throat and resigned yourself to an uncomfortable conversation with the awful man in front of you.
"Of course, it's a pleasure to meet you congressman." Kendall would've been able to tell your polite tone was entirely fake, but the man in front of you smirked proudly at the title, pleased you knew who he was and hoping to score more than financial backing from you this evening.
"The pleasure's all mine." He stretched out the hand that wasn't holding an ornate crystal glass, taking what should have been a courteous handshake way too far as he leant forward to bring his lips to the top of your hand, still curled in a stomach curdling smirk as they pressed against your skin. "Now tell me, exactly how much would I have to invest in Waystar for you to leave this shindig with me tonight?"
"You might have better luck if you don't hit on the date of the richest man in here." Before you could spit out your own retort, you heard the dark drawl of Kendall appearing beside you, face twisted in stoney discontent as the political pawn tried to save face a little.
"Fair enough, I know when I'm beat." He raised his hands in fake surrender as he backed away, but not before throwing a final uncomfortable wink your way, "You know who I am, if you change your mind." You could feel Kendall's hand fall to your lower back in response, trying to keep you in the palm of his hand, as if this disgusting character could actually pull you away from him. Hoping to lighten the tension between the two men before Kendall pulled some strings and ended this man's career, you let out an uneasy laugh,
"Well you've got my vote." You cringed at the hollow chuckle from Kendall beside you as your politician smiled again and stepped off into the crowd, looking for easier prey, leaving you to try and reassure the embodiment of jealousy beside you.
"Kendall, you know-"
"You ready to get out of here?" He cut you off before you could start, the unsettling smile on his face difficult to read as he threaded his fingers through yours and scouted out the nearest lift to take you out of the events hall and up to the hotel suites the Roy family had booked out for the night.
"Yeah, of course, let's go love." You said the final word extra softly, watching the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, unable to contain his warmth at the affectionate pet name, your love the truest thing he'd known in his complex life.
You felt his hand squeeze yours as he led you through the crowd until finally the two of you were alone, the chirpy elevator music cutting through an otherwise tense silence.
"You know I was trying to be polite Ken." You offered reassuringly, Kendall keeping his gaze fixed to the floor numbers illuminating on the touch screen beside you.
"I know honey, it's not your fault men can't fucking stay away from you." His tone was almost vindicative as the doors finally opened on your floor, a sprawling penthouse for just the two of you, another exquisite home away from home for the night.
The moment the doors behind you slid shut, Kendall was on top of you, his teeth clashing against yours with the sheer force of his passion. The crash of his lips took your breath away as his hands found your hips, gripping them tight enough that the silky fabric of your dress bunched in handfuls as he guided your back to the chaise longue that stood at the opening of the suite, the bedroom far too great a distance to travel.
As your lower back met the antique fabric, Kendall's hands skimmed up your the length of your spine, sending shivers through your body as his lips moved hungrily to your neck, a devouring the soft flesh there enough to leave a trail of deep purple lovebites,
"Why is it so fucking hard for everyone to see that you're mine?" Kendall panted into your neck as he pulled the straps of your dress down your shoulders, handling you with rough, frantic movements, his chest heaving against yours as he worked to free you from the satin that came between you.
"I'm all yours Kendall." You breathed out as your dress hit the floor, relishing in the guttural growl the words drew from the still fully-dressed man, drinking in the sight of you as he cupped your cheek in his hand and drew you in for another hungry kiss.
"I know love, I just think we need to make that more obvious." His tongue danced against yours as his eye fluttered shut, shrugging off his jacket as you pushed it from his shoulders. His lips trailed over your chin and down your throat as he sunk to his knees. He sucked and nipped at your exposed skin, his hands running along your sides as his head sank between your breasts before settling at your stomach, peppering the soft curves with kisses as his fingers tugged your panties down your thighs, helping you step out of them so nothing obstructed his perfect view of your body.
"How are we gonna do that?" You questioned absentmindedly as you let the sensation flooding from his sinking kisses run through your veins, his lips inching closer and closer to your tingling centre. You didn't miss the devilish glint in his eye as he paused and looked up at you, face hovering so close to your entrance you could feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin.
"I can think of two ways." He nuzzled his nose softly against your clit and watched the way your body reacted so desperately to his touch, your hips twitching forward and your chest rising as you gasped at the contact. His tongue darted forward to add to the sensation, lapping at the bundle of nerves while one hand snaked up your inner thigh. The moan you let out as he hummed against you only made him happier as his fingers toyed with your slit, now wet with your slick from the way he'd manhandled you. "It's so easy for me to tell you're all mine when you get this wet for me." His fingers dipped inside your entrance as he spoke, you knees all but buckling at the relief in your throbbing core at the contact, the arm of the sofa behind you the only thing keeping you upright.
"All for you Kendall." His name came out entirely in moan as he plunged two of his fingers into you with a frantic rhythm, wanting to get you more than ready to feel the rest of him deep inside you.
"Maybe I should let everyone know just how much you like my fingers inside you by putting a fucking enormous diamond on yours." He watched, enamoured by the way you eyes shot open at his words before clenching shut as his lips found your clit again, bringing you so close to the edge of your pleasure that all you could do was smile and hum in agreement at his words. As he started to feel the familiar tremble of your thighs he pulled his hand away, groaning at the needy whimper that left your lips as he did.
"Ken?" Your eyes were as pleading as your words as you watched him unbuckle his belt, rubbing your thighs together to try and ease some of the frustration that was pulsing in your centre.
"I think the second way is much more fun though." His eyes were dark with desire as he kicked off his dress pants, letting you see his hard length leaking excitedly as he grabbed your hips and helped you fall backwards onto the long loveseat behind you, quickly following suit, kneeling in between your thighs to keep your legs spread for him. He ran his tip through your dripping folds, watching you whine and flinch at the sensation, trying to drive him into action,
"What's the second way to let people know I'm all yours?" Kendall watched your chest rise and fall as you panted out the words, so sensitive from being brought to the edge that his teasing had you writhing around underneath him. Grinning like a devil he finally lined himself up with your entrance, waiting until he spoke to buck his hips harshly into you.
"To get you pregnant. Fuck!" He cried out as slammed his hips against yours, hitting the spot deep inside you that had you arching your back and crying out in agreement. "You'd like that wouldn't you. For everyone to know how well you take my dick. How full I get you."
"Yes daddy," You moaned, overwhelmed by his relentless pace as he fucked hard and fast into you, his hands running over your stomach until they reach your bouncing chest. His hands cupped your breasts, fingertips teasing your nipples as he stared down at you, completely dominating your body.
"Everyone would be able to see these get bigger, and I bet they'd get so sensitive I could have you in tears just playing with your nipples. We can practice you having my lips on them all day until you've soaked through every set of fucking lingerie I've ever bought you." He could see the wide desperation in your eyes as your pleasure climbed again, every pinch and thrust setting every cell in your body alight.
"I'm so close, please." You cried out, volume almost a scream as you begged for your release, Kendall's own thrusts losing rhythm as he fought to make this moment last forever.
"You want me to cum in you? You want me to fill you up and make you lie here until your carrying my seed? Until it's clear to everyone that you're mine forever?" His questions were all but drowned out by the chanting yeses that spill from your lips as your walls clenched around him and your body started to shake with your release.
"Yes Ken, I'm yours forever." You managed to breathe out as the waves of pleasure washed over you, amplified by the incredibly feeling of him spilling inside you, the warmth deep in your abdomen somehow more intense than usual knowing that Kendall's breeding kink had been fully awakened, and he wouldn't satisfied until he'd filled you with as much of him as you could take.
Leaning forward his elbows settled either side of your head, lips meeting yours for a sweet kiss as he repeated the words, "Mine. Forever."
"All yours love." You echoed softly, the devotion in his eye clear as his lips returned to yours again and again, drinking in the sweet taste of your affections.
"You know we're not leaving this room until you're so full of my cum, it's dripping out of you, right?"
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#kendall roy headcanon#kendall roy succession#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy smut#kendall succession#succession imagine
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million dollar baby - kendall roy x f! reader
You go on a blind date with Kendall Roy circa his college graduation and learn the truth beneath his public front.
word count: 4.5k
warnings: language, drug use, sex while intoxicated, piv sex, discussions of infertility
You anxiously drummed your fingers on the back of the car seat in front of you. Bass music throbbed in your ears, barely drowning out the voice of your taxi driver blabbering to someone on the phone. You were used to overeager drivers pushing the speed limit, but this guy seemed to pride himself on going at least 5 under at all times. Worst of all, the heater in his car was broken, leaving you shivering within the fogged-up windows.
You kept glancing down at the “I’m outside” text on your BlackBerry, received a minute ago and counting. Unable to delay it any further, you typed out “I’m just a few blocks away”, and hit send. Several moments later, it buzzed with his response: “Don’t keep me waiting.”
As the taxi slowed towards the restaurant, you squinted out of the window to search for your date. Truth be told, you were wholly unsure what to expect of him. From what your friend Cecily had told you when she set the two of you up, Kendall Roy could either show up to a date wearing a tuxedo or a tracksuit.
You slipped the driver his fare and scrambled out of the backseat before the car had even fully stopped, hurriedly pulling your bunched-up dress down. You cautiously stepped onto the curb in your knee-high boots.
“I’m here,” you texted Kendall as you made your way towards the restaurant’s signage. A bustling crowd was gathered in front for dinner, obscuring your view of the entrance. Heat lamps burned outside with customers flocking around them as they warmed themselves.
You didn’t receive a reply. Your eyes scanning the area, you spied a lone figure standing away from the mass of bodies. He was dressed in a white shirt and black slacks. A cloud of smoke billowed around him, his fingers holding a cigarette to his lips.
He matched the description your friend had provided: average height and a head of coiffed dark hair. As you approached him, his features became more evident, resembling the photo you’d seen. Your gaze flicked from his dark chocolate eyes to his angular nose, his long face bearing an expression absent of any emotion.
“You’re Kendall, right?”
His eyes narrowed, the end of his cigarette crackling.
“Yeah. Hey. You finally showed up.” His voice was deep and distinctly authoritative, speaking to you with all the air of someone at a business meeting.
“Sorry, the taxi was really slow.”
He nodded, taking one last puff of his cigarette before dropping it on the slush-covered cement. He ground it down with the heel of his dress shoe, his movements effortless and fluid.
“Shall we?” he asked, striding towards the entrance of the restaurant without waiting for a response. You were compelled to fall in step behind him - you guessed that a lot of people fell prey to the magnetic force that seemed to orbit him and his family.
He deftly maneuvered his way through the crowd and walked up to the hostess. She didn’t notice him at first, leaning over her coworker in conversation. He cleared his throat abruptly. Her head jerked up, and she blinked a few times in succession as she took in the sight of him and the way he’d forcefully inserted himself into the space.
“Sorry, sir. How can I help you?” she asked, her tone cool.
“Reservation for Roy,” he said in a confident, clear voice, fixing her with an intense stare.
“Alright, let me check that out for you. For 8:30?”
“Yeah. I know we’re a bit late,” he said, placing a pointed emphasis on the last word, “but I know you guys have a grace period. So, I’m hoping we can get seated ASAP.”
A look of brief irritation flashed across the hostess’ face as she picked up two menus. “No problem. Follow me.”
“Ladies first,” he directed towards you, gesturing for you to go ahead of him. You walked behind the hostess, feeling vulnerable to his eyes through the exposed skin on your backless dress.
The hostess guided you to a secluded area at the far corner of the dining room - whether he’d requested the privacy or she had opted to spare herself from Kendall being in her eye line, you were unsure. You thanked her, taking your seat across from your date.
“Can we start off with two Smirnoffs on the rocks?” Kendall asked.
“Oh, I don’t drink. I’ll have an iced tea,” you said quickly.
“One Smirnoff and an iced tea then.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably as the hostess walked away.
“Have you, um, been here before?” you inquired, studying him over the top of your menu.
“Of course. I take all my dates here,” he replied in an indecipherable tone.
“Oh. Haha,” you deadpanned.
“No, seriously, I do.” He paused, before letting out a curt laugh at your disbelieving expression. “Come on. I’m fucking with you, you know that, right?”
“Hard to tell.” Your face burned.
“Yeah, I’ve been here a few times. Cool if I order for the both of us? I know which dishes are the best.”
“Yeah, sure.” You tried to hide the disbelief in your voice.
His eyes studied your face. “So, Cecily wasn't wrong. You’re very pretty.”
“Thank you,” you replied, your glossed lips curving into a hesitant smile.
“I hear you want to go into politics?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You know, starting out as an ATN anchor wouldn't be so bad,” he said. “I’m sure we could work something out. You know who I am, right?”
“Yup,” you said, forcefully popping the “p”. “Cecily told me all about you.”
Clearly not enough.
“Cool. Now that I’m out of college, I’m ready to start becoming more involved in Waystar.”
He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the ego stroke.
You settled on: “Party days are finally behind you?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” He flashed you his first grin of the night.
“Pardon my reach.” A voice appeared at your shoulder, leaning over you to place the drinks on the table, ice clinking in the glasses.
“Alright. What can I get for you two?” The waiter plastered a smile onto their face and pulled out their notepad.
You slid the iced tea towards yourself and took a long sip, tuning out Kendall’s voice as he recited your joint order to the waiter.
He focused his eyes on you once they’d left, searching your face once again. You weren’t sure what he was trying to find. You got the impression that he was inept at reading people when so much was centered around himself.
“Food should be good,” he said simply.
“Mm.” You were about to excuse yourself to the bathroom when his phone rang.
He flipped open his Blackberry screen and squinted at the number. “Oh. I should take this. I’ll be right back.”
“No problem,” you said with a polite smile, trying to disguise your relief.
As soon as he was out of sight, you flipped out your own phone and furiously typed out a message.
“U didn’t tell me Kendall was the WORST. WTF?!?!”
Cecily’s reply came within the minute:
“No!!!! He is an acquired taste but I thought the 2 of u might click ):”
Your fingers raced to fire back: "He’s so entitled."
“Growing up rich will do that 2 u,” She wrote. “Seriously though, he has a good heart. Give him a chance, 4 me?”
“Ugh,” you murmured to yourself.
“Fine.”
You closed the phone in frustration and stuffed it into your purse, before noticing a pair of black loafers on the ground next to you.
You glanced up to meet Kendall’s eyes. He looked as if he didn't quite know how he’d gotten there. Suddenly so much smaller, his arms curled towards his chest and his phone hung limply from his hand. A lone figure amidst the clinking silverware and pleasant conversation.
“Um, hey..” He said, his voice shaky. His bottom lip was wavering almost imperceptibly. “I’m not really hungry anymore. Can, uh, can we just go back to my place?”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You shook the grease-soaked paper bag, the remainder of the fries rustling around inside. You balanced it on your lap as you sat gingerly on Kendall’s art deco sofa.
“Do you want any more?” you asked softly.
You were answered by the sound of snorting and sniffing from beside you. Then, a nasally: “Nah, I'm good.”
You tried to keep your eyes away from the lines of cocaine on his phone screen. The two of you had sat in silence on the car ride there, save for him asking your McDonald’s order. It had felt so strange to pull through the drive-thru in one of Logan Roy’s many limos, driven by a stuffy, well-dressed chauffeur.
Kendall still hadn’t spoken to you when you got to his apartment, descending upon bags of white powder he had stashed away. He’d wordlessly offered it to you, and when you vehemently shook your head no, he seemed to interpret that as an invitation to consume more for himself.
You chewed on the fries at the bottom of the bag, feeling like the eating noises were deafening. The apartment was eerily silent, punctuated only by snorting from Kendall’s end of the couch.
“Thanks, for, uh, being chill with this,” he said dumbly, pinching and wiping his nose. You felt relieved to see that all that was left on his phone was the white residue.
“With the… cocaine?”
“Just all of it, I guess. Sorry.” He turned his head to fix you with his penetrating gaze.
You guessed this was as close to an apology for his behavior as you were going to receive. Placing the bag on the table, you hesitantly scooted closer to him.
“Can I ask what happened on that phone call?”
His head snapped away from you again. “I don't really want to talk about that.”
“Okay. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He slumped back on the couch.
Your purse vibrated from a text. You dug through it for your phone, holding back a dazed laugh as you saw the text that flashed across the screen.
From Cecily: How’s it going??
You switched it to silent.
“Do you want to smoke a blunt?” Kendall blurted.
“Um, is that a good idea? After… You know.” You jerked your head towards the evidence on his phone.
“Yeah, why the fuck not?” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s do it.”
The next thing you knew, you were on his balcony, Kendall’s face illuminated by the skyscrapers and cars passing below. You shivered as the night air chilled you to the bone.
“Here,” he said, shrugging his jacket off and holding it out to you.
“Thanks.” Your joint crackling between your fingers, you moved it into the corner of your mouth. You draped Kendall’s jacket over your shoulders and were immediately greeted by the smell of Dior cologne and cigarette smoke.
“You smoke really sexy,” he said. “Like a James Bond love interest. Mysterious and hot.”
You burst into a mix between a laugh and cough, waving smoke out of your face. “You’re so high right now.”
“So? Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He inhaled deeply, then blew out a smoke ring. “You do this a lot?”
“Go on dates or smoke weed?” you questioned.
“Um, both, I guess.”
“I’ve only smoked a couple times. With friends. And I go on dates every few weeks or so.”
“All first dates?” he asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Are most of them bad?”
“Kinda.”
He drew in a deep breath of smoke. “I hope ours doesn’t rank as the worst.” His eyes shined with the vulnerability you’d seen back at the restaurant. As if your opinion held significant weight to him, though you’d known him for less than an hour. As if he couldn't hear one more bad thing tonight.
“No, of course not. There was one guy who I think was, like, into eugenics?”
“What?” he laughed.
“Yeah. Like 20 minutes into the date, he said something like,” you deepen your voice, “Doctors say I have the best sperm they’ve ever seen. So I need a healthy wife who’s gonna bear me a shitload of children.”
He let out a curt laugh as a darkness suddenly settled over his expression. Bringing the joint to his mouth, he took another deep inhale.
“Is something wrong?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at his shift in demeanor.
“No, no. I just fucking hate guys like that, you know? The way they treat women, like they aren't equals.” The inexplicable passion didn't reach his eyes, as if he was reciting a script.
“Oh. Yeah, fuck him.” You wrapped Kendall’s jacket more tightly around yourself, an uncomfortable silence hanging in the air.
“Do you want kids?” he asked after a few moments.
“Uh, I don’t know. Not at this stage of life. But later on, with the right person… maybe,” you replied, your voice nearly drowned out by a gust of wind on the balcony. “What about you?”
“Same,”’ he said tersely. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the joint was in his mouth again before he could. The smoke drifted away in the increasing wind. “You wanna go back inside? Getting pretty cold out here.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for taking your jacket.”
“Don’t be. It looks good on you.” He paused. “You should keep it.”
You laughed in disbelief, sliding it off of your shoulders. You caught a glance at the tag - Saint Laurent. “I’m not going to keep this, Kendall.”
You tried to toss it back to him, but he expertly moved out of the way. Your heart dropped as the jacket soared off the balcony and onto the street below. Scrambling to the railing, you watched helplessly as it was swallowed up by the headlights.
Your knuckles whitened around the railing and you could simultaneously feel the color draining out of your face. “Fuck. Kendall, I’m so sorry.”
He erupted into laughter behind you. “That was a pretty impressive throw.”
You swiveled around and stared at him in shock, your mouth slightly ajar as you imagined the thousands of dollars being flattened by cars below you. “Huh?”
“Hey,” he said, moving forward and placing his hands on your shoulders. “It’s cute how worried you are, but don't stress. I was going to give it to you anyway.”
“Oh,” was all you could manage.
“Come on, let’s just go inside.” He stubbed the blunt out on the railing and you copied his movements. His free hand found yours, cold and shaking, and steadied it as he interlocked your fingers.
You welcomed the warmth that greeted you upon stepping back inside his expansive apartment. You could feel a heady sensation wash over your body, a mix of the heat and marijuana putting you into a hazy state of relaxation. Like Kendall, you didn’t care about the jacket: you wanted to hold onto the comfort that he must come back to every night. You let go of his hand and flopped down onto his couch, flinging off your shoes and closing your eyes.
Cecily’s words appeared behind your eyelids: It’s not his fault he grew up rich.
You wondered if you’d be as much of an asshole as he’d been earlier tonight if you were used to being in a bubble where only your needs mattered. You’d probably laugh too if someone threw a $5,000 jacket over your balcony. His lifestyle was like a numbing agent, keeping him coddled and wanting for nothing. But it seemed like he was trying so hard to pretend that he was serious now that he’d come out of college, with his desire to become involved in Waystar - although you surmised he’d spent most of school in a cocaine-induced stupor.
Did it weigh on him that none of this was his? Or did it not matter where it came from, as long as it was his?
You opened your eyes and glanced over, his back facing you. Your eyes studied the curve of his spine through the fabric of his fitted white shirt. You registered the sound of a needle dropping onto a record, and the thump of hip-hop music filled the room.
“How vintage of you,” you teased.
“I took this player from my dad. He’d probably be pissed if he saw what I was listening to on it.” He turned to you, his eyes alight with supposed rebellion.
He moved closer until he was standing over you, his face a few inches above yours. You rolled over onto your side, looking at him through half-lidded eyes, and realized you wanted to know how his lips would feel against yours. Before you could change your mind, you reached out to cup his face and brought it towards you, brushing your mouth against his. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth; he tasted unsurprisingly of cigarettes and vodka, the scent of his cologne again filling your nostrils.
He clambered on top of you, his pelvis digging into your hips. You smoothed your fingers over his shaggy hair, gelled strands falling into your face and lightly tickling your cheeks. The long, wavy locks felt so inherently boyish as you mussed them up, providing a stark contrast to his attire. You turned your attention to getting rid of that attire, working open the buttons on his pristine white shirt. His body was pale and lean, a light smattering of chest hair coarse underneath your fingertips.
You felt his fingers travel to the back of your dress, tugging on the zipper and sliding it off of your body. He murmured a compliment against your mouth as he ran his hands up your stomach to your breasts, gently squeezing the flesh.
“You want to move to the bedroom?” he asked softly.
“Mhmm.”
He hoisted you up, guiding your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Your lips were fixed to his neck the entire way there, leaving marks on the creamy, stubbled skin.
Kendall deposited you on his bed before going to undo his belt. You sunk into the plush mattress, intoxicated by his luxuries. Reveling in your high, you pulled your panties down, tracing circles on your clit as you watched him finish undressing. He studied you just as intently. Tugging his pants down revealed his hardening cock through the fabric of his Tom Ford boxers.
You dipped your fingers into your entrance in eager anticipation. He tossed his boxers to the side, allowing his cock to spring free, precum leaking from the tip.
“Come here,” you murmured, moving the decorative pillows out of the way with your free hand.
His arms were around you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands traveling across your naked body. You were hopelessly under the spell of Kendall Roy, dying for him to be inside you.
“Please,” you whined.
“Please what?”
“Please, fuck me.”
He tossed one of the pillows at you. “Use that to show me how much you want it.”
You were too far-gone to be irritated at this obvious power trip.
“Okay,” you sighed, obediently straddling the throw. You rubbed your bare pussy against the blue velvet, undoubtedly leaving a trail of slick as you ground into it.
He laid on his side in an emulation of Kate Winslet, pumping his cock as he watched you.
“Are you enjoying the show?” you asked, your question punctuated by a soft moan.
“Very much so.” He smirked. “You can stop now.”
You ignored him, continuing to roll your hips against the pillow. He reached across the bed and pulled it out from under you.
“You’re no fun,” you complained, mourning the loss of friction.
“Wouldn’t you prefer me to the pillow?” He put his arms on either side of your torso, boxing you in. You stared up at his face; his expression was hungering for you and for something inaccessible at the same time. If you were sober, you might have stopped, asked him if he was okay. But your drug-addled brain only had one urge: the ubiquitous urge shared by a frat guy hoping to score.
“Yes,” you admitted breathily.
He responded by lightly teasing his cock against your folds. You let out a noise that was a mixture between frustration and lust. He coaxed your legs into the air, putting you into a spread-eagle position. His eyes locking with yours, he slid inside you with agonizing slowness.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to absorb as much of his body heat as possible as he thrusted into you. You were inches away from his dark, intense eyes, feeling so close to him yet so far away at the same time. You wanted to melt into one another so there was not even the tiniest amount of space between you - your flesh turning into jelly, mixing together with his dripping body into one inseparable mass. To share a hive mind, know the thoughts and emotions he was hiding beneath his well-groomed face, the desire behind each movement of his cock.
His thrusts were sloppy, wet, unfocused. His hands held your legs in place, allowing him to push into you ever deeper. You were intoxicated by the animalistic scent of his sweat as perspiration ran off his chest onto yours.
“I’m close,” he murmured, his thrusts increasing in speed.
“Wait, I’m not on birth control,” you protested, momentarily breaking out of your lustful daze. “Pull out first.”
“Don’t worry, I’m shooting blanks anyway.” He said it as casually as if he was telling you the weather, but he was unable to fully mask the fresh pain in his voice. Words faltered on your lips as shock washed over you.
“So can I just cum in you?” he pressed.
“Y-Yeah.”
He stilled, a grunt escaping his mouth as a feeling of sticky warmth filled you up. Cum dripped out of your pussy and onto his pristine sheets as he slid out. He flopped onto his side next to you, facing away.
You stood up and walked over to the room’s adjoining bathroom, locking the door behind you.
What the fuck? You mouthed at yourself in the mirror. You smoothed your hair and wiped away your smeared makeup, trying to remove all evidence of a tryst that had soured. You’d blame the weed and forget all your misplaced desperation and affection for a man who didn’t even have the decency to offer to help clean you up.
You sat down on his heated Toto toilet to empty everything out. When you stood up to flush, you found yourself at eye-level with Logan Roy. He wore a smile that didn’t quite reach the rest of his face, begrudgingly posing in a newspaper clipping from 1980 which marked the billionaire’s founding of Royco. A clipping that was, strangely, framed and affixed above the toilet in Kendall’s apartment.
You imagined Kendall standing in front of this toilet every day during his American Psycho morning routine, staring up at his father. Dad, am I good enough for you? Do I piss like a man? A slave to the judgment of his God. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
You scanned the expensive products littered haphazardly across the bathroom counter before lathering your hands in his Aesop soap. You envied the suds and water washing down the drain of the stone vessel sink, wishing you could disappear as easily. Checking your appearance in the mirror one more time, you unlocked the door and cautiously ventured back into the bedroom.
Kendall’s back was still facing you, his limbs splayed out awkwardly across the bed. He almost appeared to be shaking despite the warmth of the apartment.
“Um, do you want me to stay?” you asked quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Whatever you want,” he murmured into the pillow. His voice was thick with tears.
Damn it.
You didn't owe him anything, but you still couldn't bear to leave him like this. Tentatively, you laid beside him, reaching for his hand. He crossed his fingers through yours. You flinched at the sensation of his clammy palm.
“The call I took at dinner, it was the sperm bank telling me my sample wasn't viable,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Your stomach plummeted to the floor. It was as if all the blanks of the night had been suddenly filled in. Every strange reaction, forlorn look, shifty glance. “I'm so sorry.”
He rolled over to face the ceiling. He stared at it for several moments as if trying to decipher something in the creases of the paint. “It was a stupid dare by my friend to donate it. He thought it'd be funny if Logan Roy had some nobody heir out there somewhere and he never knew.” He sniffled. “Anarchy and all that shit, right? Well, now he won’t have an heir at all. At least not from me.”
“There are other ways, Kendall,” you comforted.
“I know my family. None of them will be the right way.”
You snuck a glance at his red-rimmed eyes, feeling your pull towards his lifestyle fade into obscurity. In his world of excess, there was a constant demand for more, and he was never quite enough. Just laying beside him felt stifling. The massive bedroom was closing in on you.
You waited for him to say something else, but all you heard coming from his side of the bed was soft, steady breathing. You weren’t going to wait for him to regain consciousness. You were going to take this chance to leave, doubting that he’d ever contact you again and feeling guilty about not contacting him first.
You threw one last look at his crumpled form before leaving to collect your purse from the living room. You were left still slightly buzzed, consumed by the odd combination of human emotions that you surmised kept zoos in business: pity for the caged animal mixed with a sick, guilty fascination at the spectacle of it all. As you boarded the elevator down to the ground floor, you pulled your phone out and stared blankly at your chat with Cecily, wondering what the fuck you were going to tell her. Your head buried in your Blackberry, you almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to you as you pushed out of the revolving doors.
“Miss. Miss!” You whirled around to see the chauffeur from earlier waiting patiently by the limo, parked out front. “I’ll take you home.”
“Oh- are you sure?” You wondered how long he'd been waiting there.
“Yes,” he said tersely.
“Okay, thank you so much.” You clambered into the car, reciting the area of New York City where you lived. You were unsure whether you appreciated this gesture or felt like you were being shuttled away like just another hook-up. But you were just another hook-up, you reminded yourself. You were a blip on Kendall’s radar, a chance encounter, a rando he’d told too much. All you could do now was forget.
#kendall roy#succession#kendall roy fanfic#jeremy strong#waystar royco#kendall roy smut#smut#fanfic#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy x you
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bathroom. || Kendall Roy || smut
Pairing: Dom!Kendall Roy x F!Sub!Reader
Summary: You're Roman's assistant, at a launch party Kendall invited you to. Stuff happens along the way that you're sure would get you fired.
Word count: 3.794
18+ only! More under the cut,
Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Dom Kendall, implied one-sided attraction from roman, bathroom sex, fingering, p in v, sexual tension, stewy makes a cameo
A/n: this is based on a request i got! :DD
_______________________
It’s a cold night, and Kendall is standing in front of you.
You don't know Kendall that long, but there's a clear twinkle in his eyes that shines with deviancy as he greets you. Even in the darkness of the New York street, you can see a glimmer that simply can't be usual. His smile is something you'd consider overly excited, and his short hair is slightly ruffled. You look him up and down, taking note of his casual appearance. "Hey hey heyy, there's my girl," he says with a wide grin.
He goes in for a side-hug, which you lean into with a smile. You don't expect him to speak as close to your ear as he does as he tells you, "I'm really fucking happy you could make it," so you can't help but shiver as his breath fans against your ear. Kendall pulls away from the hug, immediately searching for eye contact as he keeps grinning at you. "You know I'm never one to say no to a good party," you chuckle, letting him lead you from the street into the building.
It's some random start-up party, and Kendall had asked Roman to invite you, so now here you are. You aren't completely sure why he'd invite you, though.
You guessed it was because of Kendall's strange need for validation, and somehow him having a lot of 'friends' validated him. Not like you're complaining-- the white mini dress you're wearing has been collecting dust in your closet, so you're happy to put it into action.
"I like your, uhh, get-up. Real church girl gone slutty vibes. Fits you," he notes, eyes shamelessly raking over your body. You roll your eyes at him. He's high at most, and strangely giddy at the very least. Whatever he says tonight will not be worth worrying over. "And you look like you're gonna be a guest at Comic-Con," you shoot back as you let him open the door for you.
He ushers you inside with a hearty laugh, casually resting a hand on the small of your back which, surprisingly, you don't hate. "Listen, I know you hate those yuppy-wuppy parties, so I thought this kinda shit would be right up your alley. Good food, free drinks and a DJ that doesn't fucking suck." You hum as you scan the hallway you're standing in. Kendall quickly turns to talk to security, while you quickly grab your phone out of your purse to check your messages.
[ sad victorian puppy ]: Where the fuck are you
[ sad victorian puppy ]: ????????
[ sad victorian puppy ]: Hurry up before I hang myself with the fairy lights
[ sad victorian puppy ]: I'm not joking
[ sad victorian puppy]: I'm doing it right now
"You ready to dazzle loser-y tech bro's?" Your head shoots up from Roman's messages to give Kendall a nod. He yet again casually places his hand on the small of your back, handing you a wristband as he starts explaining random finance shit to you. It's all 'bla bla shareholders, bla bla stakes' to your ears, but you nod along as he bridges into the people he knows at the party.
The main event hall is spacious, fairy lights and plastic vines struggling to make this whole thing feel low-key. With a bar in the corner and a lively dance floor at the very front, you let Kendall lead you through the crowd as he points people out. "That's Shane, nasty fucking guy. His dad got in trouble for insider trading, so he made a jailbreak video game based on him and made bank," he practically giggles into your ear, hand slithering to rest on your side.
The side of his body is flush against yours, and his hot breath fans against your ear with each smart-mouthed remark. There's something promiscuous about it all, and you can't help but lean into his casual touches. "Is that one friend of yours here, too? With the beard and gray streak?"
He raises his brow at you in amusement. "You mean Stewy? Why, d'you wanna fuck him or something?" he asks through a wicked grin. "I barely know him, Ken, and you know I prefer being wined and dined." His eyes crease as his smile grows, curiously watching you. "Uh-huh, sure you do. Miss self-respect over here." You grin as well, walking out of Kendall's hold to disappear into the crowd, making your way to the bar.
Almost immediately you spot Roman, whose deep frown you can see from far as he stares at his phone. "Hiya, Romes."
You didn't mean to startle him, but that doesn't stop you from laughing at him when he jumps up, hissing out a sharp 'Jesus fuck' as he turns to glare at you. "Is this what you've been doing? Haunting this place and scaring people like a fuckin' poltergeist?"
"I mean, I am wearing white," you remark, before quickly ordering a mocktail as you hop onto one of the bar stools. Roman scoffs at you, choosing to simply stand next to your seat and lean against the bar. He seems strangely nervous, something you tell yourself to ask about later.
He slips his phone into his pocket with a huff. "Yeah yeah, whatever, Casper the shitty fuckin' assistant." Your drink slides in front of you, so instead of mustering a quip in reply, you opt to quietly taking a sip. It's surprisingly bitter, but you don't hate it.
From the corner of his eye, Roman carefully watches you. "Y'know, I can see you glaring at me," you mumble against the glass of your drink, smiling at Roman as he straightens his back and clears his throat. "Fuck off, I'm just weirded out by you in a party dress. It's uncanny valley type shit," he says, awkwardly tugging at his own fingers like he's trying to dislocate them.
"I think you're using uncanny valley wrong." With a scoff he turns his entire body to properly glare at you. "I know what uncanny valley is, and you in a dress like this gives off major android vibes. Like the real you has been replaced by a freaky, lookalike sex doll." He pokes your arm as he says it. His face is crinkled in childlike disgust as he watches you take another sip of your drink.
You can tell he doesn't mean it. He knows he doesn't mean it, too, hands fiddling as he fights the urge to touch the fabric of your ivory dress. "Still weird that Kendall wanted you here. Are you fucking him? I'm gonna fire you if you are, because that's, like, reaaally fucking gross," he groans out, continuing his glaring as you nonchalantly finish your drink.
"How about you first ask HR if asking about my love life is appropriate behavior, then I'll tell you all the juicy details." And with that you place your empty glass down and stand up from your seat. You pat Roman's shoulder with a grin. "I'm gonna go socialize, so stay put," you tell him, and while you didn't mean for it to come off as flirtatious, you don't correct yourself when you realize it does.
You maneuver through the hipster ocean, avoiding the guys wearing Rick & Morty shirts with ugly tweed blazers on top who are desperate for a conversation with you. The dance floor is in full swing, something you're sure you wouldn't have seen if you arrived earlier. Kendall had told Roman, who then told you that the later you arrived, the better it'd be.
Speaking of that devil, there Kendall stands, wearing kicks you're sure are worth more than your soul, a casual blazer and a shirt with a minimalist design. He lights up when he sees you, smile reaching to his eyes as he calls you over with a wave. Next to him stands that friend of his, dressed far too formal for the occasion.
He opens his arm, signaling for you to slot against him, which you do with far less hesitance than you'd like to have had. "Had enough of Rome?" he teases, carrying a blissful grin. You ignore the comment, instead focusing on Ken's friend.
"Roman's assistant, right? Haven't seen you since that thing in Florence." You hum in agreement, trying to dredge up his name from your memory. Kendall removes you from his arm to stop a wandering waiter and ask for... something, who knows. "Yeah, you were just as overdressed then as you are now," you reply with a cheeky grin.
What his name was, though, is still on the tip of your tongue. Something with an S, for sure, but the rest of the letters just don't place themselves.
Kendall returns to your side, and quickly whispers in your ear,
"Stewy."
He turns his head to look at you, and as your eyes meet he shoots you a coy grin before turning to, well, Stewy. "Y'know Rome has her write his e-mails? She probably knows more confidential shit than I do at this point." Stewy lets out a small chuckle, clearly looking you up and down. Kendall laughs at that, although there's a sharp tinge to it.
After some small talk between the two men that you simply could not follow for the life of you, Stewy leaves to go to the bathroom, winks and nudges palpable as Ken tells him to have fun.
"So, how're you liking it?" he suddenly asks you as the two of you walk to the couches in the corners of the room. "It's very... trendy." You smile as Kendall huffs out a laugh, the two of you sitting much closer to each other than you really have to be.
His thigh, which is surprisingly firm, is flush against yours. You can feel yourself holding your breath, but you just can't seem to breathe out as Kendall doesn't stop making eye contact. "Yeah, this is some hipster bullshit, I know. Still, the drinks are good, and the catering isn't pathetic."
"I haven't even had the food here yet, is it really not that bad? Those mini sandwiches seemed a bit..." He chuckles at that, nodding his head as his eyes quickly dart around, searching for something.
"Like absolute dog shit, yeah. But I swear it tastes pretty good. Let me go get some for you." You were expecting him to stand up, but instead he waves over a guy most definitely getting paid below minimum wage. "Hey dude, can you get me and the lady some of those mini sandwiches? And some drinks, too."
The waiter scurries off with a nod, so you turn your focus back to Kendall who's simply staring at you. "Seriously, thanks for coming. Not to sound like a sappy loser, but I do appreciate it. You're reliable, that's important shit to me, y'know?"
You smile at Kendall, patting his thigh. "It's no problem, Ken. You're a cool dude," you tell him, which somehow makes his eyes glimmer more than they have been so far. With a bewildered, yet smug look he keeps staring at you. "Good to know you find me cool. You're, uhh, cool too."
His hand goes to lay on top of yours, and suddenly whatever cologne he's been wearing floods your sense of smell. The air becomes heavy, too heavy for you to bear, as he continues looking into your eyes.
But then he squeezes your hand, quickly looks away and lets out a light chuckle. As if on queue, the waiter appears, drinks and ugly sandwiches on a platter. He places them on the table in front of you, then quickly departs.
"Fucking finally," Kendall mumbles, grabbing one of the sandwiches. "Alright, now open up."
"Open up?" He hums, smile growing more and more devious as he taps his mouth. "C'mon, say 'ahh', humor me." You have no reason to go along with it, or him, but something inside of you wants to, so you obediently open your mouth as Kendall plops the sandwich in your mouth.
The tension is palpable, partially because of how intense his eye contact suddenly becomes when you accidentally wrap your lips around his finger for a second as he pulls away. Flustered, you start chewing, letting out a muffled sound of enjoyment as the harmonious flavors spread over your palate.
"Shit, Ken, this is good," you giggle out, hand covering your mouth in a weak attempt at hiding your flustered expression. "Told you, didn't I? You can trust me, y'know."
He takes his own bite of food, as well as a dark blue drink, and he--
"Shit."
You look down at your dress, and all you see is blue.
Kendall spilled his fucking drink.
"Fuck, completely my bad," he hisses out, immediately grabbing you by the arm and leading you to the bathroom. For a split second you think you see Roman watching the two of you, but you don't have much time to dwell on it as you rush to one of the spacious bathrooms and lock the door behind you.
Kendall seems a bit frantic, like cold water was thrown over him, hands shaky as he grabs some paper towels and awkwardly tries to dry you off. "I fucked up, I'm sorry. Did you have a jacket with you, or?"
You simply shake your head no, to which Kendall grimaces. "Send me the cleaning bill for this shit, alright? This is completely my fault," he murmurs. "Ken, it's fine, it's just a drink. It'll wash out by itself."
It definitely won't, but the verbal comfort seems to ease his mind, as he stops wiping. "Yeah, you're, uh, you're right. I can get Jess to go find a jacket for you, it'd be here in like, ten minutes."
Before you can even decline, he walks to the other side of the bathroom, phone held against his ear as he mercilessly calls Jess during a Friday evening. You stare at yourself in the mirror, frowning at the splotch of blue. As you try to tug the dress a bit away from your skin, Ken appears behind you. "You okay?"
"Yeah, it's just really sticky," you groan as you grab another paper towel and struggle to push it in between your dress and your bare skin. "Fuck, this is uncomfortable but, uh... would it be cool for you to zip my dress down a little? So I can actually reach inside my dress."
Your cheeks are hot as you ask him, eyes cast down to the marble floor. He lets out a tense chuckle, stepping close enough to reach your back. "Yeah, of course." You look into the bathroom mirror and watch Kendall as he slowly reaches for the back of your zipper.
His knuckles brush up against your skin as he takes the delicate zipper in between his fingers. Little by little, he pulls it down, watching your face through the mirror. Breathlessly he waits for you to nod, to tell him that it's enough.
But for a reason you could never say out loud, you don't. Instead you watch him zip the dress down, lower and lower until the zipper ends at your waist.
His hands sneak into your now unzipped dress, holding onto your bare hips as he places a careful kiss to the back of your neck. "God, you smell fucking divine," he groans out, covering your neck and back with pecks as he roams your body. The pads of his fingers are rough against your skin, like sandpaper against velvet.
He gropes one of your breasts, breathing in your scent while his other hand traverses lower and lower. The whine you let out as he gently tugs at your nipple is desperate, something he replies to with a simple kiss to your temple. "You gotta be quiet, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"
Before you can even nod, he lunges at you, lips smashing against yours. He doesn't take his time, tugging at your bottom lip as he groans into your mouth. It's like he's trying to ravage you, hands growing rougher in their touch as he drowns in your scent.
You can barely hold back your moans as he consumes your entire being. His hand finds the rim of your panties in no time, and with zero hesitation he pushes two of his fingers against your clit. The small circles he makes send small sparks of delicious electricity through your body. "So wet for me," Kendall whispers against your lips, still watching you through the mirror.
His gaze is hot, burning through your skin and heating you to your bones as he pleasures you. "Ken, please."
He can't stop himself from chuckling at how needy you are. "I kinda always knew your whole put together thing was bullshit. I mean, look at you now," he says, letting out a sharp laugh as you shiver at his words.
"Roman doesn't even know you could be like this, huh? A needy slut fucking her boss's brother in some random bathroom." He doesn't give you any time to respond, his two fingers move from your clit to slip inside of you. Your walls squeeze against his digits as he uses his thumb to keep the pressure on your clit constant.
It's all too much. His filthy words against the shell of your ear as he abuses your cunt, his other hand still busying himself with your nipple. It's hot, and harsh, yet the most satisfying feeling you've had in years.
Not only that, but you can tell how riled up he is, too. Panting, lightly grinding against you, hungrily staring at your reflection. "Fuck-- sit on the sink for me," he groans, removing his fingers. You do as he tells you, whimpering at the sudden emptiness.
He pushes his fingers into your mouth without much warning, but you gladly let him. There's a small part of you, in a very dark corner of your brain, that's cursing you out for being here. For letting him feed you, for letting his hands even graze against you. It's like every moment with him tonight led up to this moment, with you sucking your own juices from Kendall's fingers as he undoes his pants with his other hand.
Kendall pulls his fingers away, wiping your saliva on your exposed thigh. You giggle as he pulls a condom from his pocket, giving him a teasing look. "Prepared, are we?"
He shrugs, expression almost bashful as he carefully rips the foil. "Not gonna lie to you, I got them from Stewy right after you walked away," he chuckles, cheeks raised high as if he's genuinely embarrassed. "I was really hoping for this," he motions between the two of you with a strangely sincere smile, "to happen."
"Stop being a sap and fuck me, Kenny." His head hangs low as he laughs at that, pulling out his cock as casually as one can when getting ready to fuck their brother's assistant in a bathroom. You bite the inside of your cheek raw as you watch him slowly roll the condom down. He lets out a small hiss as he does so, eyebrows furrowing as he gives himself a few loose-handed strokes.
With a gentleness he hadn't shown before, he pushes your thighs apart and your panties down. He looks into your eyes and smiles warily as he lines himself up against your entrance. "Are you okay?"
You roll your eyes at him, and with a burst of sudden confidence you grab him by his hips and push him against you. It takes a small bit of adjusting from Kendall, whose amused grin is, at this point, infectious.
As his cock slowly delves into you, you let out a tandem moan. "So fucking tight," Kendall huffs out, thumb yet again finding your clit as he watches you weakly writhe. "Can you please just move, Ken?"
The laugh he lets out is breathy, but he quickly complies, almost fully removing himself from you before slamming back into you. The pace he sets is brutal, his large hand clutching at your side and his eyes only focused on you. Your dress is clumsily pushed down, letting your tits bounce freely as his every thrust shakes you to your core.
Kendall doesn't relent with his other hand, either. He roughly spits on your sopping wet cunt, thumb gliding over your slick clit with ease. His every move leaves you gasping for air, and if it wasn't for the hand you're using to cover your mouth, you're sure everyone outside would hear you.
"I knew I had to fuck you when I saw you in this dress," he groans out as you shove your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his shoulder to keep your noises unheard. "I don't know how Rome handles having you around, always wearing those tight fucking pencil skirts. I'd bend you down over my desk," he picks up his pace, harshly slamming his cock into you, "and eat your pussy with everyone's watching."
With a particularly hard thrust and his words ricocheting in your head, you fall apart. Your entire body convulses, and everything turns a pure white as you can feel Kendall smash his lips against yours in an attempt to swallow your noise.
His own thrusts grow sloppy, and with a gruff moan he slowly stills his movements. You stay like that for a moment as you come to, his forehead resting against yours. You're both panting, and horribly sweaty, and as you slowly open your eyes the first thing you notice is the blue on your dress. Ken follows your line of sight, letting out a weak chuckle.
"We, uh, still haven't fixed that."
The two of you share a laugh, before he slowly pulls himself. You pull your panties up as he busies himself with discarding the condom and tucking himself back into his pants, hissing at the cold sensation of your cooled down slick. "Hey, didn't you call Jess or something?" you mutter, more to yourself than to him as he helps you zip your dress back up. "Yeah, she's probably been waiting."
"Poor Jess." Kendall heartily laughs at your sympathy. "I just gave you a mind-blowing fuck, and you're worrying about her?"
You shrug, shooting Kendall a small smile as you fix yourself up a bit in the mirror. Ken wraps an arm around your waist as he stands besides you. "So what happened to being wined and dined? Or is that still on the table," he asks through a brash grin.
"Stop being a smart ass and ask me on a date like a normal rich guy."
"Rich guys don't do dates," he jokes as he unlocks the bathroom, arm still around your waist since your legs are wobbling,
"they fuck assistants in bathrooms."
#succession#succession hbo#roman roy x reader#roman roy x you#roman#roman roy#romulus roy#female reader#roman roy smut#roman roy x reader smut#succession fanfic#succession smut#hbo succession#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy fic#kendall roy smut#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy#roy siblings#stewy#i didnt mean for this to be as long as it is#whoops
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giving kendall roy a blowjob pls
i have a fic about this here buuuttt i've been so down bad for ken lately and am embarrassed to say i literally dropped all my WIPs to also write this. inspired by this gif from @technicolourtelevision. also please follow my succ sideblog if u are a kendall girlie like myself @kendollroyco!
warnings: smut under the cut (18+ only, oral sex m receiving, degradation, dom!kendall - sorry but i want him to be mean to me) not proofread, and potentially just bad -- i wrote this in like a 30 minute fugue state.
first off, where you do this is kind of important because there are sooooo many good opportunities. maybe you work for him and he's making you suck him off under your desk, his hand down the front of your blouse. you have to go to the bathroom after to clean yourself up because your mascara is smudged and he's ruined your hair. or maybe you're on your knees for him in the back of a car, and he's refusing to roll up the partition. the straps of the gown you've got on are falling off your shoulders, and you're worried about getting caught but he's shoving your head down and he's whispering shit like 'but you're taking it anyways, aren't you?' and you can't help but moan as he shifts his hips so you take him even deeper.
but REALLY what i think about is like, in the most recent episode when he talks about not sleeping well. you're his girlfriend who lives with him, but you hardly see him. and one night when he comes home late you can just tell he's tense, like, ready to snap at anyone who gets in his way. you're curled up wearing one of his old harvard sweatshirts maybe watching tv or looking at your phone and he looks so fucking good in one of those suits that fits him like a glove.
when you ask him how he's doing, he's short and snippy. 'fine.'
'you stressed or something?' you ask, rather than start an argument.
'fuckin', uh, i don't know, what does it look like?'
you're sort of taken aback by how rude his response it, standing over you with his hands on his hips. 'don't tell me you waited up this late for me....' he's trying to chastise you, but you can see right through him.
'you're working too much' you sit up.
'uh-huh, right. i don't want to hear your shit right now, i'm fuckin' exhausted-' and he's trying to be mean, to push you away.
'i bet. all you do is toss and turn at night,' you agree.
you reach out, hook your fingers around the cool silver of his belt buckle and yank. he steps forward, even if his eyebrows are still pinched together, his lips curled down into a frown.
'i could give you something that might help.'
by the time you've pulled his briefs down to his ankles, his face has neutralized, even though his hands are still on his hips. you drop to your knees, ignoring the chill of the italian marble. he smiles a little, then, puts a hand on top of your head.
you don't go slow, you don't want to, and he doesn't let you. he pulls your hair and jerks his hips into your mouth. you take him all, using your hands to spread the slick from gagging on him several times around. of course, he talks you through it, tells you exactly what to do and how he wants it in that deep, raspy voice, which only gets deeper when he's turned on.
'god, you're such a fucking slut.'
and you don't care about looking pretty while you blow him. no, you might normally try to be cute about it, but when he's mean it only makes you more feral. you choke and gasp until tears run from the corner of your eyes and you're drooling, straddling his foot and grinding yourself against his black prada oxford's.
you whine and mewl around him, mouth so full the noises are unintelligible. 'you're so pathetic,' he groans, looking down at you, and you can tell he's getting close because his voice doesn't have the same conviction as before. 'that's it, atta girl, just take it.'
the more you allow yourself to get into it, the more turned on you get. the more turned on you are, the more desperate and filthy you want to feel. it just keeps building, compounding. until you take him just a little too far and retch. 'easy, easy.' kendall pulls back, his voice stern.
glancing up, he almost looks concerned. he scolds you. 'control yourself.'
you're pissed that it nearly sobers you up. 'shhh,' you hiss, swat his hand away from where it's landed on your cheek.
'okay, fine, if you fuckin' want it that bad.' his fingers fist the back of your head again.
immediately, you wrap your lips back around his cock. you use both hands to jerk him while you suck on his tip, bobbing your head and humming around him.
he gets quiet, and that's your cue. he's not great at using his words when he's about to come, but it's a good indication to keep up the rhythm you've built and not stop under any circumstances.
'uh-huh, that's-fuck!' ken makes sure he's buried in the back of your throat when he comes, hard, his hips stilling their movements, but he keeps your head in place with both his hands until he's sure you've swallowed everything he has to give you.
at some point, you pull away and slump against the back of the couch. your eyes are watering, your face feels impossibly hot, and your jaw aches. it's hard to see straight, so you cover your eyes with your hand.
'jesus,' kendall mutters your name.
you peek at him between your fingers to see him squat down. now he's on the same level as you. he moves your hand away from your face, a look of genuine curiosity etched in his features. you'd never blown him like that before. 'where'd that come from, sweetheart?'
'it's dumb,' you shake your head, a little embarrassed. 'i listened to this podcast...'
the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, hand under your chin so you are forced to look at him. 'uh-huh?' he asks. 'at home all day fuckin' uh....taking notes on how to give me good head?'
'shut up,' you go to smack his head away, feeling a new warmth rise to your cheeks, but he grabs your wrist and hauls you against his chest, nose poking into your hair, lips on your cheek.
'is there, uh, anything else they had to say on there i might be interested in learning about?'
'potentially,' you answer. 'if you have all night...'
he laughs, a comforting rumble right into your ear. 'i do.'
#idk what it is but like there is something about this man's manic dick i cannot stop thinking about#like this is so disgusting i'm hiding myself in shame rn#asks#writing#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#succession writing#kendall roy smut
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I have a request for Kendall!!!! I imagine him and the reader being on the verge of divorce and him being a possessive almost ex husband and making a scene every time a man breaths near the reader and them fighting and screaming at each other and then having the best make up angry sex of their lives.
Your mind is phenomenal, I hope you like it!
Marriage Make Up
Kendall Roy x f!reader smut 4.1k word count
You tried with Kendall. You really tried. It started with the coke. Which you could look past for awhile. Occasionally, suggesting various detoxes and rehab facilities, always trying to let him know you were there for him. Free from judgment. You knew who Kendall was when you married him, the addictions he struggled with. The trauma. However, the day you stood in front of him, your handmade white dress flowing, a traditional veil being lifted from your eyes to kiss him. You promised yourself you were going to be there for him. No matter what happened.
That was until the coke turned into ignoring all phone calls, never coming home, forgetting birthdays, and daily drunk 3am texts that clearly weren’t intended for you. You threatened Kendall that if this is how the marriage was going to be, you couldn’t be a part of it. But honestly they were empty threats. When you had made that initial promise, you meant it.
That was until the escorts.
You were awoken one morning by the ringtone of your phone, slowly blinking your eyes open as the sound grew louder. You threw your arm over searching to find the warmth of your husband's body sleeping next to you. Instead, being greeted by the now too common fabric of the cold sheets. You began rummaging through the pile of king size blankets searching your buzzing phone, eventually answering right before a call from Roman Roy went to voicemail.
“Hey! Seen your husband lately?” Roman questioned. Never beginning conversations with any kind of small talk.
“Oh yeah…Kendall, my husband” you scoffed. “At this point I have no idea if he is even still alive.”
“Oh he’s alive alright. All over the news actually… Billionaire Logan Roy's son, Kendall Roy seen leaving NYC restaurant with instagram model Claire Hane.”
Roman read aloud the headline cackling after almost every word.
“That girl is like, known to be an escort! What? Did you stop putting out?” He continued joking.
As soon as Roman had begun reading the headline your heart was pounding. Kendall in the news was rarely a good thing, and with every word out of Roman’s mouth you could feel heat rushing to your face as tears filled your eyes.
Choking on the lump in your throat you struggled to come up with a respond to Romans teasing. You wanted to act unbothered, like you were as heartless as any Roy sibling, unphased. But the tears already streaming down your face clearly proved otherwise.
“I…Fuck” you huffed finally managing to get something out of your quivering mouth. Everyone had warned you with patronizing eyes and scolding fingers when you married Kendall that he was inconsistent, unthoughtful, and “occasionally psychotic” his ex-wife even mentioned. However, you always waved their comments off with a smile. “Yeah, I know he has a lot going on, but I’m in love. And he can be really empathetic! I’ve never had someone take care of me the way that Kendall does. And not just with his wallet!” You explained over and over. Now all of your illusions were quickly shattering. Of anything he could do, cheating was not one you expected. Your sex life was great! At least, you thought. Maybe a little lacking lately, but that was hardly your fault seeing as though he was rarely home. Did he honestly need to pay for sex? Your confidence in him and your confidence in yourself were crashing down right in front of you.
“Look y/n, I’m sure it's not you. My brother is an asshole. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s been a shitty husband.”
Nearly forgetting Roman was on the other line you groaned at what you knew was his attempt to cheer you up. “Thanks Rome, I’m gonna go drink over my failed marriage. Bye.” you mumbled quickly hanging up before Roman got another chance to throw in a heartless joke.
Time appeared to be moving painfully slow after the disheartening events of this morning. After laying in bed clutching your chest and sobbing for what felt like weeks, you eventually pulled yourself into the bathroom. Confronted by your gloomy reflection of swollen eyes, still in shock this was all really happening. That Kendall would really be hiring escorts, and that you would find out from his brother! You decided the only way to distract your distressing mind would be a hot shower. Taking your time to delicately wash your hair and lather every inch of your body with the expensive body soap. Even though Kendall was richer than you could comprehend, you still had a habit of trying to preserve those things, never using too much. However, now all those little things were out the window. Who cares anymore if I’m just using him, you thought to yourself. Obviously he doesn’t.
You dried yourself off slowly taking the time to apply a sweet smelling lotion and your face moisturizer. Taking one last glance at your figure in the mirror and letting out a deep sigh. “Fuck him, I’m still sexy” you exclaim aloud at your reflection.
“Fuck yeah, you are!” You hear Kendall reply slyly behind you, looking back to see his suited figure leaning against the door frame. His eyes scanned your body from head to toe. You have no problem brushing off his remarks rushing to grab your white silk robe, covering your exposed body from him. Kendall was quick to pick up on your agitated reaction as you brushed past him.
“Okay. Yeah great what the fuck did I do now? Cause I know I didn’t leave any fucking drugs around the house.” he huffed, naturally jumping to defend his actions.
“Yeah, probably because you’re never here.” You mumbled quietly. You weren’t ready to fight about it. Not yet at least. You still felt too heartbroken to even scream at him, simply just wanting him to disappear until you were ready to confront the reality.
“I know I’ve been gone a lot y/n, but with my dad gone things at the office are just really starting to pick up and everything with Mattson, I mean…” his voice trailed off as you wandered around the room putting together a comfortable outfit. His rambling excuses eventually stopped when he looked at you and questioned,
“Uh babe the fuck are you wearing?”.
“God Ken, why do you even care? You’re leaving again tonight right?” you sneered. He’s never home, and then when he is home all he has is work excuses and a problem with your outfit, seriously?
“Um, we're leaving tonight. Waystar Charity Gala. One of my biggest opportunities to make a good impression as CEO. What, did you fucking forget?” He exclaimed.
“Fuck” you whined holding a finger to rub your temple.
You had totally forgotten tonight was the charity event, explaining why Kendall was home and finally paying any attention to you. Part of being married to Kendall Roy was putting on a play. Attending various events and red carpets draped over your husband's side performing as his beautiful, dotting wife. Although, honestly you never had to fake it. You genuinely did adore Kendall and it made you happy to make him look good, and brag about his accomplishments to his peers. And you were good at it! Always leaving every man in the room jealous of how happy you made Kendall, and every woman dying to take your place. But tonight you weren’t sure if you could handle that job. You couldn’t even make eye contact with him right now, let alone appear like you’re obsessed with him.
Kendall walked over to where you were sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at you. You resisted every urge to begin crying again, screaming at him about this morning's headlines. Although it was eating you alive, you knew that sobbing to him wouldn’t work on Kendall. The Roy’s were a different breed, and if you wanted to get to him, you really had to make him feel something. You looked up at his figure towering above you. Giving him soft eyes but maintaining the displeased frown on your face.
“Are you seriously this upset over me being busy? God I know, I’m sorry for being the world shittiest fucking husband!” he scoffed “ But I’m trying to take over a fucking company here y/n. Now, you knew what you signed up for when you married me, so we’re going to this fucking gala. And you’re going to be my loving wife, okay? You’re going to look beautiful, and you’re going to make me look good. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?” his patronizing tone sinking deep into your chest. You knew he was half serious, half just attempting to intimidate you, and the good girl he had to throw in hoping it would finally get to you. And it did. Sending heat straight to your center. You gave a slow nod in response, not breaking eye contact. Although, this response was not enough for kendall as he roughly brought a hand under your chin “Say yes Kendall, thank you Kendall”. You repeated his words gently and even turned your head to leave a gentle kiss on his palm. His entire demeanor softened, you could easily play into his game now but you were already planning ways to get back at him throughout the night.
Your dress for the night was a striking dark blue, a slight shimmer radiating from the bottom, drawing all eyes down the velvet fabric that formed around your body nicely. The plunging neckline, a lower cut then you would usually wear. You nearly forget about Kendall as every head in the crowd turned in awe at yours and Kendall's arrival. Your beauty quickly becoming the topic of the event.
As you made your way through the party, Kendall snaked his arm around your waist breathing deeply into your neck, recognizing his favorite perfume of yours. Smirking as he whispered “You’re so good to me.” His words sent a chill down your spine. How could he so easily say things like that while he had another life going on? Your brain jumped between wanting to slap him, and completely surrendering to his touch. You wanted nothing more than to leave a soft kiss on his lips, lean your head into his shoulder and mean it. But you refused to give in so easily, letting his hands wander your body without returning any of the attention.
It seemed as though you had a spotlight on you, the way your dress glistened softly, your light smile drawing in awestruck gazes from every direction. Kendall analyzed every man who let their eyes linger on you as you passed by, his grip around your waist growing tighter with the minute. Although, he wasn’t saying anything you knew the increased attention surrounding you was driving him insane. Of course, Kendall's ideal night consisted of having the most desired woman in the room but tonight felt excessive. With men who had never spoken to him in his life stopping to shake his hand, clearly only for a chance to gain proximity to you.
You grabbed a champagne glass from a waiter before turning on your heel away from Kendall commenting “I’m going to go mingle.”
“What are you-” his question, cut off by quick disappearance into the crowd.
It was easy to charm the kind of men you find at these events. Whether they were married or single, younger or older all you had to do was act interested in their lives. Listen to them talk about how much money they make, throw in an innocent giggle and they’re easily under your control. Which made it easy to flirt with random billionaires throughout the room, but made for little true entertainment. Reminding you what you had first admired about Kendall. Although others rarely saw it, Kendall had depth. You two often would stay up till early hours in the morning pouring out endless streams of emotions to each other. He enjoyed deep conversations and sharing his daydreams. Kendall was made of much more than just Waystar inheritance money. Every other man in the room felt so…simple, so facile compared to Ken.
It wasn’t long until Kendall found you in the crowd again, eyes locked on some investor as he did his best to swoon you. He watched as you threw your head back in laughter, lightly letting your hand graze the man's bicep.
Kendall formed a tight fist as he felt a trigger go off in his head. Kendall spent his whole life competing. He definitely wasn’t going to let your attention be stolen by anybody else. In his mind when he put a ring on it, he won you. Besides you hardly paid attention to the people at these things, why tonight did you decide to put on such a performance while brushing off all of his advances? The jealousy of your lack of attention was piling on him like a ton of bricks. He knew he had been extremely negligent in the marriage department lately, and as much as he probably deserved to be cheated on after everything he’s done in his life, he didn’t think you would be so quick to throw yourself at other men.
He made his way over to you and the man stood in front of you, quickly sliding in closely next to you. “Thanks for keeping her company, man. Keep up the good work.” Kendall joked aggressively.
“Ah anytime, we’ve all seen what a busy guy you are, hate to see you leave this beautiful thing all alone.” The man scoffed back lightly, referencing today's news. You were always impressed by rich men's ability to be mean to each other without actually fighting, it was as if cryptic trash talk was their second language.
“Oh, I guarantee I can keep my wife very entertained” Kendall asserted.
You observed the two men wind each other up, pleased that your simple yet effective plan of making Kendall jealous was working. Eventually, the other man let up, leaving you two standing alone. Kendall’s chest was heaving in front of you, his large eyes scanning the room, and you could sense that he was trying to calm himself down. Resisting from making a scene. He knew he needed to stay longer, that he should spend the entire night networking with strangers, gaining the trust of possible donors, anything to earn respect as CEO. But as his anxieties regarding your displeased attitude began growing more unignorable, he wanted nothing more than to drag you out of the venue. Away from everybody's eyes, and against only his. Protected.
Kendall wasn’t saying a word to you, and you took your opportunity to wander off again to search for anyone semi handsome you could pretend to care about. However, your first step away from him was interrupted by a rough grip on your hand. You turned hesitantly, knowing you will be met with his distressed eyes, “I’m done with this fucking game. We’re leaving.”
The fighting began the second you walked into the apartment building. Not even making it past the lobby before Kendall was yelling out “So are we gonna fucking talk about this?”
“What is there to talk about Kendall? How you clearly have no desire to even be married to me? Why don't we start there!” You explained only to be met with a stunned
“What?”.
“You’re never fucking here Kendall! And if you are here you’re high, mad at me for being upset that my husband only ever sees me when he's coked out of his mind!”. You had never yelled at him like this, shocked at the amount of anger you could feel swelling in your chest.
“Oh and now you don’t even want to have sex right? You can just hire someone for that too! I hope eventually you can spend enough money on pussy and drugs to actually be happy Kendall!”. It was harsh, yes. You wanted to hurt him. Hoping maybe your words could compare to how it felt reading the headline.
“Fuck you. Okay, what the fuck are you talking about y/n?”
“The news, Kendall! I’m not fucking stupid! Everyone has seen your recent little public affair. Obviously, I don’t make you happy so please lets just do whatever the fuck we have to do to end this! I don't want anything from you, I don't care, I just don't fucking care anymore” you aggressively stammered on, raising your hands in defeat.
Kendall was sitting on the bed watching you pace the room. He didn’t realize that his dinner last night had made so many news articles, but they weren’t lying. He did meet up with an escort, thinking that fucking someone he didn’t care about might actually help him blow off some steam. But by halfway through dinner he had already made up his mind that he couldn’t follow through with it. Sure, she was beautiful and listened to him rant about work and his ex-wife. Nonetheless, his interest faltered with every coy giggle she let out. She wasn’t sarcastic like you, she didn’t push back or tease him. It was as if you were the only one bold enough to treat him like a real person, not just a possible paycheck. He left the restaurant with her but only to have her dropped back off at her apartment, giving a soft apology while still paying her the originally intended amount. He thought he could be like his dad, not give a fuck about anyone, use anything for his own pleasure. But he was positive his dick wouldn’t have been able to get hard all night, and trying only would have made it miserable for her and him.
“I didn’t fuck her.” Kendall finally huffed in response pushing himself to stand in front of you “I couldn’t fuck her! I’ll be honest with you y/n, I wanted to. But we never even made it past the fucking restaurant! I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You never leave me side y/n and I know I fucking put you through hell and back! I’m really fucked up, but I didn’t fuck anyone else!”
You weren’t sure whether to believe him. Regardless you would still be upset that he considered it. But there was something oddly sweet about a man who could buy any woman not being able to go through with it because of you. Kendall had slowly been stepping towards, and your hands laid gently at your side, unsure of what to do with all the information in your head, only to be met with a rough kiss from Kendall. You pushed him away exclaiming “Kendall, what the fuck? I’m so fucking pissed!” yet you were met again by his tight grasp around your waist and his lips returning deeply to yours. This time unable to resist the urge to give in and kiss him back.
“I know. You should be pissed. But I love you, I love you y/n.” he muttered in response against your lips. The sound of your shared panting filling the room as the passionate kiss continued. Kendall walked you backwards until you collided with the wall behind you.
“So fucking mad at you Ken!” you growled into his mouth as you both clawed each other's clothes, his arms raking down your backside squeezing your ass roughly and brushing the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. Letting the fabric pool around your waist his mouth was quick to begin leaving a trail of sloppy kisses down your neck, stopping to nibble gently on the skin between your neck and shoulder. You threw your head back as his mouth made contact with your nipple, he sucked harshly, pulling the skin lightly with his lips, and then soothing the sensitive bud by tracing circles with his tongue. His other hand working to undo the zipper holding up the remainder of your dress. You attempted to steady your shaking hands and loosen his belt and dress shirt but the feeling spreading from your nipples to your pussy was already causing you to struggle. When your dress pooled around your ankles, Kendall wasted no time in lifting you into his arms, legs instinctively wrapping around him as he sucked on your bottom lip. You could feel his bulge pressing firmly into your center as he trapped you tightly between him and the wall. His hips grinding, desperate to buck into you, causing a yelp to leave your mouth every time.
He moved his hands swiftly, lowering his dress pants enough to pull his cock out, rubbing the large bead of precum that was forming on his head between your folds.
“Fuck Ken!” You exclaimed as you felt his head pressing firmly against your slit. Kendall usually enjoyed taking his time, slowly working his cock into you, trying to make you as wet as possible before bottoming out. However, now you could feel him pushing in with no hesitation. Grunting as your lips squeezed tightly around him, giving you no time to adjust, only pulse as he pushed deeper. His cock had never felt so swollen inside you before. You weren’t sure if it was the time apart or the passionate argument but your pussy was yearning for every inch of him inside you, and to completely submit to his hold. But your brain still had the lingering thoughts of his actions.
“Why Ken? Fuck- why do you have to be like that? Why can’t we just talk?” You managed to moan out
“I don’t know why I’m so fucked up y/n” he grunted into your ear pushing the final inch of his length all the way inside of you. Both of you let out a sigh in unison as your bodies aligned perfectly together. Your legs spread wide for him as he held your ass in his palms, grinding deeply into you. With each thrust his pelvis softly nudging your clit driving your pleasure further.
Backing away from the wall, while maintaining his tight hold around you, Kendall walked your conjoined bodies over to the bed. Laying you down harshly against the edge of the mattress, pulling your hips quickly to meet his, pushing his dick deep back inside you. He collapsed into your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your chest. He fucked into you at a brutal pace, you were unable to controls the cries that left you lips each time his thick head brushed against the sensitive spot along your walls.
“Ken please- I need you” you whined scratching your nails down his back searching for anything to hold onto while the knot in your stomach tightened.
“I want to be better, baby. I can be better for you. I promise” He groaned deeply into your neck, his words so easily seducing you back into completely trusting him again.
“I want you home Ken, I want- ughh you” you managed to moan out breathlessly. As your orgasm drew closer, so did your thoughts about missing Kendall. You just wanted to tell him how much you loved him, how much you needed him but all that left your lips was a loud cry as you felt your pussy finally release on his cock.
“You’re making me cum! Fuck Ken oh my god, wait wait I-…” you yelped.
Your hand reached between your legs pressing your palm to his stomach as your overstimulated pussy throbbed harshly around him. He maintained his brutal pace, holding your hips in place as you squirmed against him.
“Just a little more baby, you can take me. That’s my girl” he cooed, his hands straightening your legs over his shoulder. His hips snapping against your ass, eyes never leaving yours. Watching in adoration as your eyes shut closed, but your mouth remaining open, drool falling down your chin as the pleasure slowly became too much.
With a few more powerful thrusts Kendall was releasing deep inside you. Allowing himself to collapse completely into your warm body. Shallowly grinding his hips to ride out his passionate high. Waiting until he felt your walls stop throbbing around him. Allowing both of your breathing to relax before he eventually pulled out with a long sigh. Kendall looked down at you fucked out face. His thumb brushed your cheek gently, then ran it along your bottom lip. He thought you always looked so beautiful with your cheeks flushed pink, hair wildly flying around your face. Arms reaching up searching for his protection. He wasn’t ready to give up on another marriage, not when the make up sex was like this, he laughed to himself. He gathered you in his arms scooting your bodies up the bed, until he was comfortably holding you.
“I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
#succession season 4#kendall roy#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy smut#succession#succession headcanons#succession smut#kendall roy oneshot#kendall roy x you#roman roy#kendall roy fic#kendall roy headcanon
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Business with Pleasure
Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader x Stewy Hosseini
Description: Stewy is preoccupied when Kendall comes to him with a pitch. You don't seem to mind the intrusion, though.
Words: 1K
Rating: SMUT (more under the cut)
Warnings: Cursing, drinking, implied drug use, smut, age gap, semi-public fondling, exhibition, teasing
A/N: A horny reimagining of S1E3 because I'm a slut for Kendall and Stewy ;)
Part 2 up now!
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It's a party; Kendall Roy had attended more parties than he could remember. From lavish galas filled with pissing contests of charitable donations, to tedious mixers spent appeasing disingenuous executives from billion dollar corporations, to ragers mixing copious amounts of recreational drugs and hard liquor. The gathering he finds himself at now resembles the latter - pharmaceutical helpers being handed around like party favours as soon as he steps onto the threshold.
He swallows down the itch to indulge, manoeuvring his way through the coked up crowd. A thick curtain separates him from a private room and the familiar laugh of an old friend. He's prepared, thoroughly confident in his approach as he pushes into the red-lit space.
Then he's unprepared for the sight of you; eyes half lidded, makeup smudged, lips swollen, hand gripping the older man's wrist, fingers hidden under a silky dress, hips rocking of their own accord. Kendall tears his eyes away, clearing his throat, "Stewy."
"Kendall," Stewy doesn't move his arm, despite your cheeks flushing at the intrusion. He merely raises his brows, "Kinda in the middle of something here."
"Yeah, well...we need to talk." It's curt and a clear indication for privacy, which Stewy wilfully ignores, his breath ghosting over your neck as he bends down to breathe in the familiar smell: a luxury fragrance he'd gifted you. Sweet, floral, delicate, just like you.
"Then talk."
Kendall frowns, then sighs exasperatedly, arms crossing over his chest as he looks everywhere but the lavish love seat you're sprawled across. "Okay, so you know how everyone kinda...hates you."
Stewy hums, "Uh huh. No, that's not something I'm aware of. Do you hate me, sweetheart?"
His fingers touch you again, lazily sliding over your pussy, grazing your clit, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. You shake your head pathetically in response to his question, though you're sure it's rhetorical. In reward he applies more pressure, a shit eating grin plastered to his face, corners of his eyes crinkling and the edges of his lips turned up; thoroughly amused as he watches Kendall's gaze going up and down your body so quickly he would've missed it if he hadn't been directly looking at him.
His friend swallows thickly, then states, as loudly and clearly as he can, "Well, people do, hate you. Private equity, getting their meat hooks in, chiselling your profit like uh, like a vampire locust fuck."
"What is this? Is this a roast cos...if you haven't noticed I kinda have shit to do." Stewy punctuates the sentence by dipping his fingers lower, groaning at how easily they slip into your entrance. He always knew you weren't as innocent as you feigned - from the auspicious smile you'd given him the first time he took you, in the restroom at some pompous art exhibition, and now this. He's embarrassingly hard.
The tension in the air is thick and hazy, hanging over you, heat blooming in your stomach with every deliberate stroke of Stewy's fingers against your walls, the man watching only adding to the searing desire. Kendall Roy is an easily recognisable man. You chance a look at him: tall, impeccably dressed, strikingly handsome, far older than you.
Dark eyes meet your own, momentarily, a certain hunger within them, teeth digging into his lips, "Right, well, I'll cut to the chase."
"Okay."
"How about instead of taking us over, you give us four billion dollars; I stay boss, you stop raiding shitty companies for scraps, you invest for once in a blue collar corporation that's currently..."
He trails off at the sight of Stewy's fingers pushing into your mouth. The way your lips close around them, suck them, Kendall definitely isn't imagining your tongue swirling around them. And he's definitely not picturing those lips wrapped around his cock.
His oldest friend gives him a knowing look, waiting for him to elaborate, which he does, stammering out the rest of his pitch, "Yeah, right. You know, it's currently undervalued by some unfounded concerns about its leadership, i.e: the 'Lord Fuckleroy' here. But, you invest, the story twists, happy ending for all."
Stewy pulls his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down the valley of your breasts, brushing over your pebbled nipples, before ghosting over your thighs, toying with the fabric of your shift. "Obviously, I don't usually take minority stake in a company."
"Yeah obviously, because you're..." Kendall starts, then sighs. It's becoming increasingly hard for him to focus when Stewy's edging closer to your core again, the way your breath hitches telling him he's reached his target again. He folds his arms, "How about for once, you make things bigger? You know, with your old pal?"
Stewy suddenly plunges his fingers deeper than before, curling them and you can't help the needy cry that leaves your lips. He outright laughs, the sound dark and gruff as he shrugs to his 'old pal', "Bro, I can't even begin to think about this. But if I could, to sell it, I'd need boning stock."
"As long as we remain in control."
"Well," Stewy pauses when your hand finds purchase in the expensive fabric of his suit pants, self-restraint wearing thin, his hips chasing your touch, thrusting his fingers harder into you. "Effective control, okay. I'm also gonna need a board seat."
Despite Kendall's attempts to ignore the situation, the nervous rubbing of his neck gives away his discomposure. Still, his voice is strong, "Oh I'd force it on you, dude, for the optics. Shit hot CEO has some hot shit new money for investment. Yeah?"
"I'm not necessarily totally opposed to this notion."
"That's right, and luckily I speak Stewy. And that's Stewy for 'I've got a raging hard on for this." The moment the words leave his mouth he sees a barely suppressed bearded grin.
"If that isn't the pot calling the kettle a fucking minority," Stewy gestures to the sizeable tent pitching in the CEO's pants, brows raising comically.
Kendall grimaces, adjusting his stance, "Oh, uh, sorry. But we're good, right?"
Stewy moves his fingers quicker, focusing on that spongy spot inside that has your face contorting with pleasure, pushing you towards orgasm and then his hand returns from your sticky thighs to pick up his glass. He raises it, "Yeah, we're good."
He rolls his eyes when you whine at the loss of contact, frustrated with his teasing. He takes a long sip of the bitter liquor, then before Kendall turns his back, adds, "But, just a thought. Why don't you...hang back for a bit? Celebrate?"
The insinuation clouds the air and before Kendall can even answer, he's being cut off, "I don't think-"
"What do you think, sweetheart?" His pet name has you in the palm of his hand, half smile on his face. "You want Ken to fuck you?"
You look nervous for a moment, but it quickly fades with the offer of being shared between two of the most powerful men in the city, "If...if he does."
"She's been practically soaked since you walked in. And you and Rava are done, right?"
"We're..." Kendall thinks back to the hurtful words exchanged, the emptiness of his bed. It's been weeks without contact, his sex drive through the wall. "We're separated, yes."
"And the banks not fucking you anymore, so how about you do some fucking of your own," as if he needs anymore convincing, Stewy's fingers are teasingly pulling the thin straps holding up your breasts. "Come on, it'll be just like old times."
Kendall tilts his head, looking past his friend to search your face for a moment, wondering if you're lust drunk or just fucking wasted. Then, he decides he doesn't really care. "Fuck it, yeah."
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A/N: This is my first time writing in a while and this is quite short and probably riddled with mustakes buttttt would totally be up for a part 2 if people want it. Any feedback is much appreciated :)
#succession#succession hbo#kendall roy#roman roy#stewy hosseini#succession smut#kendall roy smut#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy imagine#kendall roy x you#stewy hosseini smut#stewy hosseini x reader#stewy hosseini imagine#stewy hosseini x you#kendall roy x stewy hosseini x reader#kendall x stewy#stewy succession#kendall succession
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i wanna be your mantra--kendall roy x reader
heyy here i am with my kendall x reader oneshot as promised... i hope at least someone enjoys xoxo thank you!
pairing: kendall roy x reader
synopsis: you are kendall’s assistant, but your dynamic is unconventional, and toeing the line of toxic. so, when he interrupts your night to ask a favor of you, it’s hard to say no, and neither of you expect it to end with him on top of you in the back of the company limo.
p.s. based on this ask, so thank you for the inspo!
word count: 5.8k (sry)
warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, semi-public sex (?), dirty talk, praise/degradation kink, oral (F receiving), etc. etc.
———
Your and Kendall's relationship could be explained in three words: complicated, tense, obsessive.
You worked for him--under him, technically. But not literally. Unfortunately. The job was exhausting: late nights in the city without the fun, lavish dinners paid for by exploitation, and fueled by passive aggression. For the Roy's, relationships were strictly transactional, and you had grown to suppress your sensitivities around them. You had become good at the facade; the veneer that you were confident, and that nothing, no matter how vile and vicious, could ever make you cry. And, after a couple of years, you had surprisingly never cried in front of the Roys: that was saved for corners, the bathroom, anywhere they couldn’t find your vulnerability.
But, after working for Kendall for almost two and a half years, it was inevitable that the shiny copper exterior of your personalities would erode, to show the more aged complexion of who you were, a rusty mint that wasn’t quite ugly, but instead just real, genuine.
There had been a dozen or so nights when the professionalism of your relationship with Kendall had been challenged. Especially when Kendall was deep in the throes of his substance abuse, there were months when it seemed like every night Kendall would tell you to come over, that he needed someone--anybody--to be with him.
And, it would’ve been easy to oblige, to leave the house in lip gloss and not realize the symbolism behind your applying it. But you always said no, mostly because him saying he would be willing to invite anyone over made it seem like you weren’t the antidote, but just a temporary distraction, somebody who just probably had nothing better to do.
And sometimes, work was odd with him. He had never outright flirted with you, but the air would change when you would casually mention a date to him; he would roll his eyes and bite his lip so hard it turned a stark white, different from the warm pink you were so used to looking at. So keen on looking at.
And sometimes you did the same. If Roman or Shiv or anyone joked about a past--or current--hookup of Kendall’s, you would become bitchy, short, immeasurably immature. It was completely unprofessional to give your boss the cold shoulder, but that was the relationship you had. It was inexplicably unconventional, full of a tension that made others avoid entering a room when its cloud would loom over, daunting and unpredictable.
Kendall often thought about how much you fucking annoyed him, too. He told it to everyone and anyone who would listen, but most of the time, he told it to you, explicitly, without care for your feelings. Maybe he should have felt bad, guilty–but something deep within him loved it. Loved the power he had over you, how sometimes your big eyes would look into his, brows furrowed with bewilderment, holding your tongue because you knew Kendall didn’t really particularly enjoy being interrupted.
“Y/N, what the fuck is your problem?” Kendall slammed the door of his office, holding his phone flush to his ear, his free arm leaned against the wall. “I told you to tell Johnston we can wait on the meeting, not to fucking tell him it's off--I swear to God if this--,”
You rushed to get a word in, interrupting him. “Listen, I did tell him that--”
“Don’t fucking interrupt me. I’m not finished.”
“Okay, my bad.” You backtracked. You were on your way to the office, a tray of cappuccinos in hand, balancing them as you pressed the button to the elevator.
“I need you to figure this out. I’m not fucking dealing with this. If this deal with him is out, I never want to fucking see you again.”
Kendall been vicious like this a lot--he had pushed papers off desks, slammed doors, even smashed a laptop or two, but his words always hurt the most. Sharp and venomous, they pierced you, pushing their poison into your veins, making it so hard to forget their presence--they would literally pump through you, repeating themselves, a mantra of your shortcomings.
The tears came without your permission--usually you could choke them back, attribute them to something else, or feign your way to freedom, but it was difficult, as you reached Kendall’s office, to get away with any of these tactics.
You left one of the coffees on his desk, opting to call Johnston--the owner of a small social-media start up--to fix your mistake. As you dialed, slowly closing the cold glass door of Kendall’s office, he gestured for you to hang up.
“No, don’t call,” he shook his head, taking a sip from the to-go cup. It was tiny in his hand; you could see his veins pulsing, a tell-tale sign he was upset, riddled with stress.
“You just told me--”
“I know I did.” He interrupted. “I figured if I want this done right, I should probably do it myself.”
Again, with the words--they always hurt. You didn’t know where the gall came from. “Picking up quotes, are we?”
“Excuse me?” He questioned, leaning against his desk.
“I’m just sure you hear that a lot, after all your fucks, you know.”
The silence hung in the air, ballooning with unspoken expletives, insults, the incessant odor of years’ old sexual tension.
He motioned for you to come over to him, pulling his suit jacket off and throwing it across his chair. When you were close enough, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you, so he could whisper into your ear.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Are we clear?” He dropped your wrist. “Look at me. Are we fucking clear?”
You nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry.”
Kendall tilted your chin up, looking into your eyes firmly, with a dominance that made your knees feel weak and your throat dry with a germinating anxiety. “Why don’t you take the day off? We obviously aren’t seeing eye to eye today. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You furrowed your brows, confused. A day off and Kendall weren’t words that meshed together. “But–”
“No.” He was firm, ushering you out of the door. “I’ll fucking see you tomorrow. A day won’t kill you. We don’t even like each other. Obviously.”
And then the door was shut, the wind pushing your hair back with a malicious force. He was punishing you; he knew you were a workaholic–that’s why he hired you. Even the salary didn’t keep people around for long; Kendall was intense, problematic, a true Roy in every sense of its connotation. But you were clever, a perfectionist, and addicted to the one thing that didn’t come by all too often: being praised by Kendall.
The feeling of his unbridled appreciation–a laugh at your jokes, a term of ownership, the subtle she works for me–was euphoric. And their scarcity was what made them so coveted to you, a reward more valuable than your biweekly check.
You left, annoyed. Tired of matching quality with quantity and never receiving more than a “Alright, I need you to do this now.” You were spreading yourself exceptionally thin, so thin that your feelings had become transparent and incompatible with the opaque front of your usual robotic, emotionless facade.
Maybe the day off wasn’t a bad idea, and maybe you needed a drink, and maybe you needed someone to take your mind off of how fucking annoying your boss was.
So there you were, hours later, in a taut green dress and black heels across from a friend of your friend’s boyfriend. You feigned interest in his job, laughed a little too hard at his jokes, and looked to him for affection–any kind of fleeting admiration, just a tinge of longing. Even if it expired the next morning and grew sour and curdled, you were desperate, searching for his placeholder. But you didn’t want to admit to yourself just who you were referring to. So you didn’t. You pretended like Kendall didn’t bother you–until he literally bothered you again.
“I thought I said we would see each other tomorrow,” Kendall placed his hands on your shoulders, making steady eye contact with your date. You couldn’t see him, but you knew his look was lethal; as easily as his eyes could reflect deject and sorrow, they could also emanate a concentrated hatred that had to have taken decades of practice–or mirroring his father. You felt the grip on the back of your chair tighten. “It’s only been a few hours.”
You turned around, setting your drink down as quietly as possible–as if the consistent pumping of a generic, bassy tempo wouldn’t already drown its subtle clink. Looking up at him through your eyelashes, you raised your eyebrows. “So you’re following me now?”
“Following, no. I thought you wouldn’t be here, you know, uh, since you always have a fuckin’ stick up your ass.”
Your date butted in, thoroughly confused. “Uh, who is this?”
“My boss.” You answered, nonchalantly. As if that wouldn’t raise more questions, such as why his hands had migrated to your shoulders, and why your legs visibly squeezed together at initial contact, an involuntary reflex.
“Speaking of,” Kendall moved both of his hands to one shoulder, squeezing tighter. “We should talk about Johnston. I, uh, changed my mind about a few things.”
“Can it not wait until tomorrow?” You quipped through gritted teeth.
“It can’t.” He gave your date–if you could even call it that–a tight-lipped smile. “Come on, now.” His hands pressed down on your shoulders harder; it felt like all the strength you had left had been channeled into him. You were weak around him, unable to stand up without having pathetically wobbly knees that you attributed to your heels.
Once you had stood up, Kendall’s hand was on your lower back, leading you to a back corner. It was dark; the soft, ambient lighting of the rest of the bar had stopped sharply, leaving you and Kendall obscured, the only source of sight the periodic opening and closing of the nearby bathroom door.
“How did you know I was here?” You asked, throwing his hand away from you. Your eyebrow twitched, angry at how the only consistent thing about Kendall was the sheer power he had over you to make you do whatever the fuck he wanted.
“I didn’t.” Kendall deadpanned. Even in the dark, it was obvious he was looking at your physique in the dress you had worn, an olive green silk slip that hugged your torso. Slightly promiscuous, but classy, elegant.
“Bullshit.”
Kendall pulled you closer as the door to the bathroom swung open. You looked like a bickering couple, and that made your heart palpitate, a shallow longing piercing the skin of your chest. “Fine, Greg told me.”
“How the fuck does Greg know where I am?” You knit your brows together, confused.
Kendall squeezed your shoulder, one of his rare, toothy grins emerging through the beacon of light from the cracked door next to him. “You fuckin’ recommended this place to him or something. I thought you there was a slim chance you might be here if you weren’t home.”
“And you knew I wasn’t home?”
“You didn’t answer your phone. Usually means you’re at work or out somewhere. I don’t fuckin’ know. Shot in the dark.” Kendall took a deep breath, his eyes following a waitress taking a few flutes of bronze champagne to a table across the room. “Listen, I actually do need something of you. And I’m actually going to get on my knees and fucking beg you.”
Kendall actually began to drop, until you intercepted, pulling him up by his elbow. “Jesus Christ,” You whispered. “What do you need? I’m off the clock right now.”
“That’s why I’m begging.”
“Okay, just spit it out.”
He sighed deeply, pulling the collar of his crisp shirt away from his neck. “There’s the gala tonight–”
“No.” You shrugged. “Absolutely fucking not.”
“I haven’t finished.” He paused. “What’s wrong with a gala?”
“It’s not a gala. It’s a Waystar gala full of fucking Roys.”
Kendall rolled his eyes. “You work for a Roy, I’d watch it.”
“Just–” You rubbed your temples. “Continue.”
“Wow, fuckin’ thank you.” He said facetiously. “There’s the gala tonight, I had a date. I cancelled on her. Called Johnston, and he said that the deal is back on, but he wants to come tonight. To, uh, see the Waystar spirit or some shit?”
You stared at him blankly. “There is no spirit. People who come in with spirit leave with an alarming deficit of fucking spirit.”
Kendall pressed his hands together. “Okay, this is when I literally start begging. I’m going to get on my fucking knees and plead. I’ll, uh, fucking buy you whatever you want.”
Your cheeks flushed; it felt like you were high or drunk or something beyond that. For once, you had the upper hand on Kendall; you held the golden, winning card.
“Please.” Kendall reiterated. A flash of something—vulnerability, guilt—flashed over his features. But it dissipated as quickly as it had appeared.
You thought about it. It wasn’t like the date with the man-whose-name-you-would-never-quite-remember was going well; that within itself proved it. But Kendall’s entitlement, the waltz he always did where he would step into a situation and flip it to favor whatever the fuck he wanted—fucking annoyed you.
“I don’t understand this. You.” You shrugged, opting for a non-answer.
Kendall mirrored your shrug. “What’s there to understand.” He worded it like a statement, like nothing he did ever deserved the hanging of the unknown, the hesitant stamp of a question mark.
“I’m busy. I’m here doing something.” The cocktail you had downed before “running into” Kendall had boosted your confidence, and a newfound lust for this strange feeling to persist settled deep in your belly, an autumn leaf swaying onto the newly dead winter grass. “Why does it fucking matter if I’m there?”
Kendall weaved his fingers together. “I think it would be good for the deal if you came with me. As my date. Just as a business thing. Purely Business. Keep the gala open to everyone, show him it's tight-knit, it's friendly–it’s not just the Roys coming to keep their name on the inheritance check.”
You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. It was cold; a metallic draft of air pinched your exposed skin. “Okay. Not a bad idea. But I work there. It’s gonna seem like everyone was forced.”
“Just–” He began. “It’s low stakes. Just come with me, you can get tipsy on free champagne, ride home in a limo.”
“You’re acting like I even have a choice to decline.”
Kendall checked his watch, leaning into you. “You can decline. But I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
“Fear mongering. That’s cute.” You linked your arm in his. “I’ll go. But not because of that.”
“Atta girl.”
—--
The gala was at 9; it was nearing then, but Kendall had ducked you into the limo, insisting you looked perfect for the occasion. You tried not to let those words ring like a mantra; the inside of your head was radio silence after the elusive compliment–no matter how trivial it was to Kendall at the moment. It almost felt like you were actually his date.
As the doors to the limo shut, it was just you and Kendall in the back, engulfed in a silence that was tactile, sticky with tension and apprehension about the gala, the deal, if this was actually about what Kendall said it was.
It was cold outside, and you sat next to each other in the prim limousine, legs flush against his as the limo winded through the twisted back roads, out of the sleepless swarm of the city and into the lazy nook of the suburbs, where willow trees swayed instead of the hands of passersby, yearning for a taxi.
Kendall shifted, not uncomfortable, but perhaps a little bit; he felt odd at how much he fucking burned for you. You looked amazing in the dress. In his mind was you, in that dress on repeat–a silent reel fueled by a lust so obsessive it could only belong to a bereft Kendall Roy. He leaned his head back on the hot leather seat, thinking about how the curve of your hips looked in the taut silk of your dress, your cleavage when you bent over, your ass.
You turned to him, desperate to fill the heavy silence with something. “Should we prepare? Like what we’re going to say to Johnston about the deal?”
Kendall snapped out of his haze, a fuzzy head high that could only be brought on by you. “Oh, um, I was just thinking we would focus more on the moment. I’m not too worried.”
You leaned forward. Kendall’s eyes flitted away from your cleavage. “Kendall, focusing on the moment?”
“Happens every once in a while, usually when I’m–”
“On a coke binge?” You regretted saying it, but Kendall giggled, surprisingly.
“You’re not wrong.” Your necklace dangled as you leaned into him due to the turning of the limo into a cobblestone driveway.
The bubble of intimacy of the backseat–your bodies pushed together from the cold and unspoken yearning–was popped as the driver opened the back door, letting you and Kendall out. You felt awkward, completely unsure of what to do. You had been to one other Waystar Gala and had promised yourself you would never go to another one for as long as you lived. They were usually chock-full of drama, and every attendee without the shiny Roy name tag was usually a pawn in some dirty Royco scam of theirs. But Kendall in a suit and those hazel eyes–you couldn’t say no even if you fucking wanted to.
You walked towards the venue, a huge country club near the Hamptons, far away from the chaotic, capitalist jungle of Manhattan. Here, it was quiet; you could only hear the faint clink of glasses, feigned laughter, the clicking of overpriced dress shoes against wooden floors.
Kendall was assured in his movements, much more than you were. He strode up to meet your pace, pulling you in by your waist. “You’re freezing, Y/N.” His fingertips grazed your shoulder blade, pricked with goosebumps. “Do you want my jacket?”
You shook your head. “No, no.” You answered. “We’ll be inside in a second.”
This new Kendall–you didn’t know how to feel about him. You had never really seen him before; you were used to the pulsing vein in his neck, a patronizing tone, pacing back and forth and the unmistakably stressful go, go, go attitude that always possessed him. Here, he was calm, soft-spoken, charming, chivalrous.
Weirdly, you missed the Kendall that was rude and entitled, the one who would fuck you over in a second if that meant he got what he wanted.
“You nervous?” Kendall replied. The wooden door opened, a rush of energy seething into your bloodstream, amalgamating with the hours-old alcohol. He could feel the tenseness in your muscles. Whether that was a side effect from his touch, or the looming torture of what the gala would bring–you were unsure.
“A little.” You admitted.
Kendall tapped on his coat pocket. “We could take the edge off.”
You shook your head. “No, Kendall. I’m not–”
“Fucking relax,” Kendall dug in the pocket, pulling out a heavy lighter. “It’s a joint.”
You rolled your eyes, looking around. The coast was clear; Logan and Marcia were talking to Roman and Shiv, not worried about Kendall’s perceived absence. Something you had gleaned about the family dynamic was that due to Kendall’s erratic past, it was more of a silent wish than an expectation that he showed up to most things.
“Fine.” You responded. “I’m only taking a couple hits.”
Kendall shook his head. “No. We’re smoking the whole thing. Halfsies.”
Smoking on the back balcony was a dream. The white smoke haloed around the two of you, tendrils of pungent air pulling the two of you together. You hadn’t spoken much since the ceremonial lighting of the joint, but you didn’t feel like you needed to. It could just be you and him and the ashen remains of marijuana, and it felt okay, peaceful. The problem between you two always just seemed to coincide with work. And talking. And your control issues.
“I have to admit something to you.” Kendall tapped the bud of the joint against the railing of the balcony. “Johnston isn’t here.”
You leaned forward, against the railing, plucking the remains of the joint from Kendall’s grasp. “What are you talking about?”
“He broke the deal off. He said we were ‘fucking suffocating to be around’.”
“What?” You asked, in shock. “Then why am I here?”
Kendall shoved his hands in his pockets, annoyed. “Like it’s so fucking bad.”
“I was on a date, Kendall. And you come in and act like I have an obligation to fucking come here, and then it was a lie, and I’m the bitch for being mad?” You crossed your arms over your chest, and Kendall pinched himself, a deterrent to not look at your breasts.
“Fuck off,” He said. “That wasn’t a date, that dude was an asshole.”
“From the 20 seconds you were near him?”
Kendall shrugged. “He’s a finance guy in Manhattan; pick your poison, do you want gonorrhea or a prenup first?”
“What?” You were delirious from the cold, the weed, his lies.
“He’s sleazy.”
“Why do you fucking care? Why am I here? You had a date–”
“Yes, I had a date, and then I cancelled on her because I would have rather you came. And you did come. And now you’re fucking yelling at me.”
You softened your voice, inhaling deeply. “What was wrong with the other date?”
“Nothing–I don’t know.”
You raised your eyebrows, a silent Okay, and?
“I just feel like–”
You interrupted. “You know what? I feel like this arrangement isn’t really working.”
“What arrangement?”
“Me and you. Working together. I mean, you take me to this gala under false pretenses when in reality I’m just your arm candy slash employee, and it feels like we’re toddlers shoved into those We’re gonna get along shirts. I just don’t understand this. I don’t understand you.”
Kendall swallowed. “Are you quitting?”
Your voice felt inverted, small. “I don’t know.” The bluntness of Kendall’s question confused you; the lack of nuance made it seem like he didn’t care, like it was good riddance to you. Maybe he wanted another assistant, one who gave him what he wanted regardless of her personal qualms, one who said “yes sir,” or “no sir,” and batted her eyelashes and was submissive to his incessant necessity for power.
Kendall took another drag from the joint; it was ashen, deteriorating in his grasp. It felt symbolic. “You shouldn’t quit. I think you should stay at Waystar. With me.”
“With you. That’s an interesting way to word it.” You quipped.
“I agree.” Kendall stepped closer to you, the heels of his leather shoes clacking against the ground. “Do you know how many times my dad or Shiv or Tom–and Roman especially– have told me to get rid of you?”
You were taken aback, hurt. “Wh-what?”
“Not because they don’t like you,” Kendall began. He leaned against the balcony, looking down at the limo parked in the middle of the cobblestone driveway. The license plate glimmered against the sliver of the moon, hanging in the sky like a pendant. “It’s because they see that I’m weaker when I’m around you. I’m fucking erratic and I act nineteen.”
You looked at his profile, but he averted eye contact.
“Like, I’m an asshole to you, but you don’t just take it and I like that. But you also have this fucking hold over me that I can’t explain.”
“Can you try to explain?”
Kendall chuckled. “I mean, like, when I saw you on that date. Pure coincidence that you were there, by the way; I was going to meet my date to this thing there. But then I saw you and I kind of just ghosted her.”
You joined him at the balcony, looking below. Another limousine had pulled up; a group of older businessmen and their wives in high neck silk dresses flooded out. “Oh,” was all you could muster.
“And I felt this deep anger when I saw you with that guy,” Kendall turned to you. “I was jealous and fucking protective.”
“Jealous?” The limo driver turned the engine off, leaving the keys on the front seat. As if blinking tiredly, the headlights fizzled out, and the driveway was empty, serene.
“Yes, I’m so fucking jealous.”
You looked at him, and finally, he turned to you. The silence allowed you to hear each other’s pulses thumping with the anticipation of the lust you both shared; it was ripened, sweet to the point of almost being rotten.
Breaking the silence, Kendall had an idea. “Let’s go for a ride.”
Kendall pulled your hand into his, and then you were running down the spiral staircase, past the other guests who wanted to speak with the fleeting Roy who was breathless, high, and for once, didn’t fucking care about Waystar, or meetings or finances.
He ran to the limo, catching his breath as he reached the one with the keys still perched on the driver’s seat. “Let’s hope they’re not locked in.”
“Ken, where are we going?” You smiled, dizzy from the change of pace, how he gleamed around you.
“Wherever the fuck you want.”
And then you were in the front seat. The heat was on and so was the engine, but Kendall sat, faced forward. A look of determination was etched into his face.
“What?” You asked.
Kendall spoke up. “I have to tell you–you look fucking perfect in that dress.” His hand held the back of your head and your heart leapt; it felt like it had jumped to the other side of your chest.
You didn’t know what to do; there were only two choices, what a shitty choose-your-own-adventure. But it was always important to go with your gut, even if it was spoiled by butterflies and the most overgrown lust you had ever had for anyone in your fucking life.
You closed the gap, pulling him in by his tie as his hands found your waist, pulling you on top of him. The horn honked, and Kendall smiled against you as he palmed your ass, his tongue swiping across your teeth. You opened your mouth, moaning into him.
“I fucking need you.” He said. “I fucking hate how much I need you.” He slid your core against his clothed cock, his head falling back at the feeling of the friction.
And then you were in the backseat, and he was on top of you. He pulled your heels off as you undid his tie. Kendall pushed your wrists together and held them above your head as he kissed your neck, pulling the straps of your dress down with his teeth.
“Kendall,” You moaned, arching into him. The moment was heated, of course, but also tinged with anger, a vicious hatred of how fucked up your dynamic was and how you were just about to fuck it up some more.
His mouth latched to your nipple as he palmed your other breast, letting go of your wrists, your hands quickly finding his head. You ground your hips against his, desperate for him. Any of him. You were soaked; you had been since he took that first drag of the joint, and you despised how easy you were for him, how willing. One cheap compliment and here you were, aching for him, his clothed cock nestled between your legs. It belonged there, and you knew it.
Kendall groaned into you as a trail of wet kisses led him back to your awaiting mouth. They were kisses that broke the rubber band of years worth of tension, of pent-up hatred that had metamorphized into something possibly akin to love.
He hiked your dress up around your waist, and pushed his hand against your cunt. You were shaking for him, wet and needy.
“Is this okay?” He asked. His thumb rubbed lazy circles on your clit, and you moaned out, bucking into his touch. Of course it was.
“Yes, fuck, Kendall.” You were flustered, so frustrated at how much you had to have him, at how you were letting him–your boss–take you at a company gala in the fucking company limo. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?” You hissed as he took his fingers away, yanking your thong down and putting your legs over his shoulder as he licked a thick stripe over your folds. He kissed your outer lips, so soft with his ministrations that it made you want to rip his hair out.
He moaned at your taste, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your thighs until his tongue lapped hungrily around your clit, two fingers pushing their way into your cunt. You were soaked for him; you thanked god that the seats were leather.
Kendall was messy yet precise; his hands gripped your thighs so hard he could feel your pulse. Your hands found his head, and you ground against his tongue as he ate you, starved.
He came up for air, still pumping his fingers into you. “Oh, I’m a fucking asshole?” He grabbed your jaw. “Always teasing me. Always fucking talking back.”
You whimpered when his fingers stopped pumping, begging for more with your eyes, with the rolling of your hips against him.
“See how it feels?” He pulled his fingers out completely. “Open your mouth for me. No fucking backtalk.”
You nodded, obliging. Kendall was bent over you, your legs around his waist. One of his hands was braced against the seat, the other holding your face in place, forcing you to look at him. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip as he spit into your mouth, urging you to swallow.
“Fuck.” He said. Looking down at you, your hair sprawled out on the seat, cheeks flushed and lips red and raw–he realized what he hated about you was that he fucking loved you, and everyone saw it but you. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about fucking you?”
“I have too. All the time.” You said, flustered. “Kendall, please.”
“Please, what?” He was cocky again.
“Fuck me.” You reached for his belt, and Kendall pressed the lock button on the door. The windows were fogged with steam, your silhouettes obscured by the tinted windows.
You could hear chatter moving closer to the driveway; the gala was probably ending soon.
Kendall shoved your hands away and unbuckled his belt, shimmying out of his neatly pressed pants as you unbuttoned his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He tasted like you, like your sweat, your cunt.
“Fuck me, what?” Kendall teased.
“Fuck me, please,” You writhed in his touch as he lined himself up with your entrance. You wanted him and you wanted him raw.
He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, intent on teasing you, even if it made him ache in the process. Some things never changed. “God, your pussy is so wet.”
You pulled him closer with your legs, and he pushed into you, all at once. He hissed as he bottomed out, emitting a deep groan from the bottom of his throat.
“Fuck you,” He said. “Your cunt’s better than I ever fuckin’ imagined.”
You moaned, urging him to fuck you, to do something. “I’m wet,” You began. “All for you.”
“Yes,” He thrusted. “All for me.”
And then he was pounding into you, holding you to his chest. The sounds were obscene, slapping and wet and filthy, but you didn’t care about the gala outside or the fact that the boss you hated yet loved was fucking you. Deeply.
He hit that spot in you that made you scream, rolling his hips as he kissed you with an animalistic fervor.
“You better shut up,” He whispered in your ear. “Or they’re all gonna know what a fucking slut you’re being for your boss.”
Kendall pushed your legs back, hitting that deep spot that made you shake and squeeze around his cock. As your mouth opened, Kendall latched his hand over it, bending down to talk in your ear.
“Feels so fucking good.” He purred. “Fucking you raw.”
You heard the click of footsteps upon the uneven driveway, the polite farewells exchanged by the gala’s guests.
Kendall went even faster, his cock twitching at how overwhelmed you were, clawing at him, moaning into his neck, begging for more.
He felt himself getting close, the high from the joint intensifying his sensations tenfold.
“I’m gonna cum,” He moaned into your ear, his hands grabbing your tits, your ass–any part of you that he could.
He was about to pull out, but you locked your ankles around his waist, keeping him there, with you.
“Cum in me, I want your cum.” You arched into him.
That’s all it took for his orgasm to spill over, his hips jerking as his cum spurted in hot ropes inside you.
“Take my fucking cum. Be a good girl for once.” He cried.
His thumb rubbed against your clit, using your wetness and his as sufficient lubricant. You were already close, and his cock was still in you, semi-hard and twitching.
“Cum around my cock, sweet girl.” He whispered.
The voices were closer, and it felt harder to let go, until Kendall’s thumb pressed harder against you, his hips moving lazily against you.
His voice was softer now, nicer. “I want you to cum. I want to feel you.”
A few more slow thrusts and him playing with your aching clit was all it took for you to let go, your back bowing as you moaned his name so loud he had to press his hand against your mouth to shut you up.
Your moans were muffled, your legs shaking as Kendall finally pulled out, working you through your high.
“You’re so pretty, it pisses me off.” He grabbed your cheeks and kissed you, biting your lip, grabbing at your exposed ass. You could still feel his cum in you.
Your chest was heaving, and Kendall pulled your dress back up, adjusting your straps and smoothing your hair down with a delicate care you had never seen in him before.
“Are we ever gonna talk about this again?” You asked, putting his tie back on.
Kendall’s heart fluttered at the gesture, but wept at the question. “I think it would be impossible not to, Y/N.” After thinking for a second, he added, “Sex that good doesn’t just happen. It’s made.”
#kendall roy#kendall roy fic#kendall roy fanfic#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy smut#succession#succession fic#succession fanfic#succession x reader#roman roy#shiv roy#tom wambsgans#greg hirsch
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HAPPY 500 BABE!! stewy smut with 23 perhaps?!
Fully Clothed.
23. "Good girl." / "Perfect girl."
Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested in sending a request!! always happy when i get a stewy request - thank you anon for sending this in and for being so sweet <3
Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Assistant!Female Reader
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - smut!! sexual content and cursing.
Word Count - 881
Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.
"Come in."
You enter the office to be met with the sight of Stewy Hosseini with his head in his hands, hair messy where he's been running his fingers through it.
"You okay?" you ask tentatively.
Stewy just sighs in response.
It's no secret that he has a reputation for being one of the calmest men in the business. He never gets angry, rarely gets upset - he approaches every deal with a level head, and an almost irritating amount of confidence. You can count on one hand the number of times you've seen him genuinely stressed.
This must be bad.
"I just wanted to see if you needed anything," you press. You take a step further into the office, bringing yourself into his eyeline.
Stewy checks his watch and looks at you with wide eyes.
"You were supposed to go home two hours ago. What are you still doing here?"
Shit. You didn't think he'd notice.
"I... uh - I know that you're stressed about this deal, and... I didn't think it was fair to leave you here alone. Thought you might want a familiar face around, maybe," you say quietly.
"See, this is why I bought you that mug for Christmas," he jokes.
Your present from him had been a mug with the slogan 'World's Best Assistant' written in bright red letters. You loved it.
You laugh, and the sound releases some of the tension from his shoulders.
"Do you need anything?" you ask again, eager to do your job and make his life a little easier.
"Yeah, actually. Can you shut those blinds?"
He nods to the big windows next to the door that look out onto the floor of empty desks, everyone else having gone home.
"Of course," you reply, moving to do as he asked. Once they're shut, he moves his chair back slightly, creating space between him and the desk he was previously sat behind.
"Come here," he murmurs.
He says it quietly, so as not to startle you, but you hear it clear as day. You approach him carefully, moving to stand between his spread legs. He looks up at you with mischievous eyes.
He pats his thighs, signalling for you to sit down. When he sees you hesitate, he reaches for your hips, pulling you towards him gently.
"Sit with me, pretty girl."
You throw your inhibitions out the window, and move so you're straddling him on his big leather chair.
"Other way," he commands, but the scent and warmth of him is making you dizzy. You can't quite comprehend what he's telling you.
"Huh?"
"You fucked out already, honey? I haven't even touched you yet," he teases.
He pushes you off him, and pulls you back down so your back is against his chest. He moves your thighs so they're spread open by his. He rolls his hips upwards, and you can feel him hot and hard against your ass. It makes you whine, and he chuckles at the sound.
Stewy dances his fingers up the insides of your thighs, underneath your pencil skirt. When he gets to your underwear, he caresses the edges gently, avoiding where you need him most.
"Please," you whimper.
"Please what, sweetheart?" he goads, revelling in seeing you so pliant.
"Please touch me, Stewy."
"There you go," he murmurs. "Atta girl. That wasn't so hard, was it?"
With that, he pulls your underwear to the side and runs his fingers through your slick.
"Fuck," he groans. "This all for me, sweet girl?"
"Yes," you moan, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. He kisses your temple and inhales the scent of your shampoo. Yep, he's fucked.
He decides to take mercy on you, watching you writhe in his lap. He pushes two fingers into you, groaning and rolling his hips when he feels how warm you are.
You sigh in relief, canting your hips up to meet his fingers. He starts to work up a steady rhythm, curling his fingers on every upstroke. He knows when he's found the spot, because the moan you let out is pornographic. He's suddenly glad the office is empty.
"Right there?" he murmurs into your ear, breath warm on your cheek.
"Yes," you whine. "Yes, yes, please."
"You're filthy, you know that? Letting me finger fuck you in my office, both of us fully clothed."
You whimper, and Stewy speeds up his fingers, moving his thumb to circle your clit in tandem with his strokes.
"There we go," he mutters. "I can feel it, pretty girl. Give it to me. Let me have it."
Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as you reach your high. Your back arches up and away from him, but he pulls you back with a strong arm wrapped around your front.
"Good girl," he groans. "Perfect girl. So good for me."
He lets you ride out your climax before pulling out his fingers and shoving them straight into his mouth.
You moan at the sight, and he winks cheekily.
"Come on, pretty girl," he murmurs. "Let's get you home."
You look at him questioningly, and he understands without you having to say the words.
"My home," he clarifies. "Now that I've had a taste of you, I'm never gonna get enough, honey."
stewy tag list -
@justacaliforniandreamer
@616wilsons
@isuspectitwasthenargles
#stewy hosseini#stewy hosseini x oc#stewy hosseini smut#stewy hosseini fluff#stewy hosseini x you#stewy hosseini x reader smut#stewy hosseini x reader#succession#succession fanfic#succession smut#succession fic#arian moayed#succession x reader#succession x you#murphy's 500 followers celebration#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy smut#stewy hosseini x assistant reader#stewy hosseini x assistant!reader
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Kendall Roy x Neighbour! Reader Headcanons
Pairing: Kendall Roy x Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Smut, Dark!Kendall obsessive vibes, dub-con, reader discretion advised :)
Request: "Hi Scarlett! I was wondering if you could write a scenario when you just moved in Kendall's apartment and became a neighbor and he is obsessed with u emotionally and sexually??🥵🥵
Author’s Note: Thank you for this intense request, it was a lot of fun to write some dark Kendall as we all know this man would be capable of ANYTHING. Please don't read if you might feel upset by dark/obsessive/coercive themes :)
Dark! Kendall Roy x Neighbour!Reader Headcanons:
- Kendall Roy had lived in his building as long as he could remember, but he was sure he'd never met any of his neighbours, let alone learned their names. Maybe it was his weird hours of operation, maybe his security usually kept him from chance encounters, or maybe none of them ever seemed noteworthy enough to remember. Before you.
- He's not sure exactly how the stars aligned perfectly enough for him to end up bumping into you the day you moved into the one rent-controlled apartment in his building (he'd always found that surprisingly progressive for the otherwise snooty building, sure it must be to exploit a tax loophole), but from the moment he saw you carrying a box and directing delivery people with carefully wrapped up furniture, he knew he had to have you.
- He'd heard the commotion from the stairwell after returning home one day, curiously following the noise to see which rich, old, white man he'd be living across an expansive hall from now, surprised to find young, beautiful you. The picture of innocence, drawing him in with your magnetic energy until he clears his throat, making you jump and sending a dark shiver down his spine at the reaction. He watches you smile so so brightly as you crouch to the floor, setting down the boxes in your arms before springing back to your feet to shake his hand, but not before Kendall can enjoy the opportunity to stare down at you from above, sure he'd have you in this position again, if it was the last thing he did.
- All night your simple conversation would rattle through his mind, the way you repeated his name after he said, politely pretending you don't know exactly who he is, his name on your tongue sounding sweeter than it ever has before. It leaves him wondering how sweet your tongue would be on him in any other circumstances, and before he fully realises what he's doing his hand has slipped into his shorts and he's picturing you back on your knees, choking around him.
- Ever the gracious neighbour Kendall would send you an elaborate basket of expensive gifts to welcome you to the building. There'd be innocent things like designer home fragrances and fine imported coffee, but Kendall being Kendall, there'd also be chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of champagne, and spa-quality cocoa butter massage oil. Everything he'd need to make you feel right at home for the night. When you appear at his door to thank him, almost bouncing for joy as you gush about his generosity, he's so sure he can smell a trace of cocoa butter, picturing you rubbing it all over yourself and thinking only of him.
- His infatuation with you only gets worse when his sexual desires become more emotionally founded: One night you'll knock on his door, later than a normal neighbourly conversation and Kendall will think you've finally come to return his primal feelings. As he flings the door open you look almost apologetic - you saw a headline about Waystar offices being under investigation and you wanted to check that he was feeling okay. It's a simple enough gesture, but it's one that cuts right to the core of Kendall, who so rarely has anyone check in and ask him how he's doing. And here you are, his perfect neighbour, cooing sweetly as you tell him it's going to be okay, and gently squeezing his hand, the embodiment of kindness and empathy, the antithesis of his family. And he knows you must be his and his alone, that he needs this from you every moment, of every day.
- After that night his obsession starts to get worse, barely able to make it through the night without a barrage of sweet, sensual dreams playing over and over in his mind of exactly what you'd do to take care of every part of him. He can't bear the thought of you with anyone else, installing a doorbell camera so he can keep an eye on your routine, making sure you don't bring home anyone that might get in his way. He learns your comings and goings so he can bump into you at his favourite times, usually on your way back from the gym, drinking in the way your exposed skin glows with a thin sheen of sweat, sure he could give you just as good of a workout if you let him. Sometimes he'll arrive home just in time to help you carry groceries inside, peering inside your bags to find out a little more about what you like, and thinking about a world where he gets to be the person you make homemade meals for.
- He finds himself obsessing over how to take the next step with you, how to secure you as his, sexually and emotionally. He thinks about sending more gifts, this time a lingerie set and a vibrator for when you want to think of him alone at night. Sometimes he thinks about trying to install a camera in your apartment when he knows you're home, waiting for a glimpse of you touching yourself and knocking on the door to give you a hand. In the end he goes for something a little bit more subtle, just hoping all the dominoes will fall into place.
- The wait for the perfect moment is agonising though, and some nights Kendall can't help but picture just tying you to his bed frame and keeping you there at his mercy for as long as it takes for you to accept that you belong to him. He's sure if he can make you cum enough times then eventually you'll see that he's always going to take care of you, and you'll have everything you need with him.
- But instead he waits until one day when you come back from the gym, avoiding his usual attempt to bump into you and letting you get straight home and into the shower as always. Then with a well-timed, and urgent, knock on the door he draws you out of your apartment in just your towel, having safely retreated to his own, watching through the doorbell camera as you take one, two, three steps into the hall, dripping from every inch of your skin, an absolute vision. And as if the universe is rewarding his genius, right on time, your apartment door locks shut behind you, leaving you in the hall in just your towel, no keys, no phone, no way back inside.
- Kendall has stop himself from ripping the door off its hinges the second you rap your knuckles gingerly against it, pretending to look confused by your state of undress as you explain, mortified, that you got locked out and you'd been in the shower, and does he have the number for the building manager or a spare key? Kendall ushers you inside, saying he'll make a call to the building manager, but 'he might be a while because he always takes Wednesdays off' offering to put on coffee while you wait. Wrapping yourself tightly in your towel you hover awkwardly in the doorway, trying not to think about what your one cute neighbour must think of you.
- Thrilled with how this is going so far, you almost naked in his home, with nowhere else to go, he offers you a seat, insisting you try this new massage chair he's just bought for himself, telling you it's the best money can buy, completely top of the line and will melt your worries away. Feeling so bad for intruding already you can hardly say no, tucking as much of the towel around you as possible, accepting that there's no way to sit that won't have all your most sensitive skin pressed bare against the satin soft fabric. Perching on the arm of the chair beside yours Kendall starts to toy with the small remote, telling you you're going to feel amazing in no time. Surely enough as he presses the controls the chair starts to vibrate all over, kneading against your shoulders and inner thighs, a strong vibration emanating right against your entrance.
- Kendall notices the way your whole body jolts as the sensations start, the way your cheeks start to flush rosy pink as every nerve in your body is stimulated to perfection, your bare skin rubbed and massaged by the tiny movements of the chair. You try and take a breath to ground yourself, now even more embarrassed at how incredible the vibrations felt, sending tremours through your centre that made every inch of you feel endlessly sensitive. Clenching your thighs together didn't help, only amplifying the waves of bliss washing over you, but Kendall certainly noticed when you did.
"Feels great right!" He laughed darkly, watching you squirm as your bare pussy rubs against the shaking fabric, no escape from the overwhelming pleasure no matter how you shift your body. You could only hum in agreement, biting your lip to stop a moan following it, trying desperately to keep hold of yourself, not wanting your hot neighbour to see you make even more of a mess of yourself today.
- The soft kneading down your spine had you arching your back, your nipples getting more and more obvious through the thin wet towel the more cold and sensitive and excited you got. Kendall could see the shame and powerlessness and embarrassment building on your face as your body betrayed you, your hands gripping the side of the chair as if maybe you could hold on long enough if you just really focused.
"Kendall, I-" You tried to stand up while your legs could still hold your weight, hoping you could pretend to be more comfortable standing, and praying the water dripping off your body would cover up any wet patch you might have left. But as you leant forward, Kendall stepped in front of you, barely having to push your trembling thighs back down to keep you in place, a devilish grin on his face as he watched your eyes widen at his actions.
"You can't move yet sweetheart, I haven't even shown you all the settings. I think we can make you feel even better." The glint in his eye made you want to run out the door for help, but as he pressed one button and the vibrations whirred faster and stronger you found yourself fixed to your spot, the feelings of ecstasy building inside you and leaving you completely at his control.
"See, I can take care of you. I promise, you've never had someone take care of you like I can." Kendall cooed as his fingers stroked lazily up your thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensation already coursing through your veins. "Say the word, and I'll take care of every part of you, every fucking day." His voice was laced with such intensity you could feel yourself getting wetter as he spoke, unclear about how you ended up in this position, but starting to get the impression none of this was accidental. You watched his fingertips graze along the edge of your towel, looking up to see what you made of his offer and breaking into a wide grin as you nodded your head back at him, trying to speak but only being able to moan out his name in response.
"Good girl." He teased back, turning the dial up one more time before unceremoniously pulling open your towel just in time to watch your whole body shake with pleasure as your release cascaded through every part of you, your pussy throbbing from the release around nothing, thighs twitching under Kendall's hands as he kept you firmly planted in that spot until he was positive you couldn't take another second. Finally helping you rise to your unsteady feet he'd plant his lips against yours, hungry to taste you, unsure how he'd waited even this long to finally feel you lean into him, lips soft and warm, your skin sensitive everywhere his hands met it. Looking down at your wet naked body, cheeks still flush with a tinge of shame, he licked his lips and chuckled, "We're going to have so much fun, neighbour."
- Once that threshold is past, there's no going back for Kendall. He'll steal all your underwear and make you sit on his lap just so he can toy with you, watching you squirm like the first time, peppering your neck with kisses until you can't keep still. He'll hide your clothes when you're staying over at his so you're stuck there, wandering around his penthouse naked until he's seen enough.
- He'll wake you in the night with his fingers inn you, teasing your folds and strumming your clit until you beg him to fuck you, waking up the next morning full of his cum. He'll insist on pushing it back into you again and again, hoping that if he can get you pregnant, you'll stay by him forever.
- It's not just a sexual obsession, Kendall will come to you in all his darkest hours, collapsing on your lap and lamenting about the world while you stroke his hair and reassure him that the world hasn't ended on even his worst days.
- You are everything Kendall Roy has ever wanted for himself. He knew it from the moment he laid eyes on you, and he knows it every time you blush at his relentless teasing. And he'll never let anything take what he wants away from him.
#writing#fanfiction#one shot#requests#kendall roy succession#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy headcanon#kendall roy#kendall succession#succession imagine#succession hbo#succession#dark!kendall#dark kendall Roy#kendall roy smut#kendall roy headcanons
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leaving work late
⋆ smut (18+)
⋆ kendall roy x fem!reader
it was a long day at work, a really long day. it just wasn’t normal for you to not be home by 4pm, but now its 5:33 and you’re outside of your apartment. to make matters worse, you had a ton of work to get done tonight. you were buzzed in and as you made it to the elevator, you thought of how you really wouldn’t be able to do anything if you didn’t dedicate whatever you have left of your day to your work. you sighed as the doors opened to your penthouse suite, where you saw your man sitting on the couch reading the latest forbes issue.
“oh, your’re home,” he puts his magazine down, marching towards you, ,“where’ve you been?”.
you set your things down on the ground. “work,” you answer, removing your blazer,“they fucking extended the meeting last minute and then some, so now i’m home. late”. you make your way to your office, room with a bookshelf and a full pc set up. you lay in your chair, the cat walking up to you. she nuzzles your leg, but hops on your lap shortly. “uh, can i get you some, uh…some tea? you seem tense”. kendall is talking to you from the door frame. tea sounds really good right now. you clasp your hands together and mouth a small and yet desperate “please”.
“i’ll prepare it to your liking”
you’re more relaxed now, you like that he takes care of you. he brings back a cup of mint tea. you place your pet cat down, to avoid any accidental spill from hurting her. she goes to her bed in the corner. “thank you, ken,” you say, as you go to take a sip. the taste is…different. you ignore it, but its strong. it tastes really good, though. you recognize the taste. you look at kendall, who’s picking up the cat’s toys.
“clover honey”
“annnnnd?”
you take another sip: “lavender”. he walks up to you with the box full of cat toys, setting it down next to your desk. “very good,” his praise tickling your ear as he leans down to your ear and slightly lower to your neck where he presses his lips. at that point, you’re typing a report, but the sensation of it causes an aching between your legs. “kendall…,” he isn’t stopping, “ken, i’ve gotta work”.
“we both know you don’t wanna”
and he’s right, you don’t. “you already work so hard,” he adds. he’s kneeling at your feet now, you’re looking down at him. “so, what should i do instead?,” you ask, softly to match his volume. he smirks, tugging at your pants. “you let me take care of you,” he answers. he stands up, his hands on both sides of your face and immediately plastering his lips to yours. your hands are free and as he kisses you, you reach for his belt and undo it. he doesn’t let you finish as he pulls you up and now you’re standing.
he kneels again to undo the button on your pants, pulling them down. he pushes you to the empty space left on your work desk. he kisses up your legs, practically forcing you to part your legs open. he starts to pull your underwear down, successfully getting one leg of yours fully out if it, the under hanging off your left foot. you make your way to the desk, now on it. he wedges your legs open and it’s an aggressive type of desperate the way he places your legs over his shoulders. you brace yourself, but that doesn’t prepare you for his tongue licking up your slit. he does it once more, adding some kisses to it. his kisses start at your clit, ending somewhere in your labia. he loves doing it, he loves tasting you, and he loves the noises you make when he’s doing it. he almost moans against your flesh, licking you up. you taste amazing to him and he finds himself wanting more and more.
you are quieter than you usually are, maybe due to the exhaustion you’re feeling from work. the tired, “ken…”, that falls from your lips makes him stop and stand on both feet. he’s rubbing your clit with three fingers in a small circle and an occasional u-shape past the ball of nerves, spreading your remaining juices around. “what is it, girl?,” he says, he keeps doing it and you realize its really only serving to tease you. it keeps you feeling flustered, he knows just how good this feels to you. before you can even answer him, he shushes you. gently, he places his other hand on your chest, shushing you.
“breath, baby. undo those buttons for me”
you’re still wearing your work blouse, you’d forgotten about it. you rush to do so and it hits you how out of character it is for you to be this desperate. it’s usually kendall begging for you, its never even remotely the other way around, but here you are: laying on your work desk as your boyfriend rubs your sopping cunt. once they were undone, immediately his free hand grabs your right tit. your breathing hitches, when suddenly his fingers rubbing you move lower, plunging deep into you. his hand on your breast pulls your bra down. he pinches your nipple which makes you whine. he knows how sensitive these areas are for you, it brings a tear to tour eye feeling how overstimulated this makes you.
“poor girl,” he teases, “what do you want from me, baby? you can tell me”
as he says this, his fingers are still pumping in and out, curling slightly when they go in. your voice is weak and he can’t understand what you’re asking of him. he begins to genuinely feel bad. his hand that was once on your breast, moves to cup your cheek. his thumb swipes underneath your eye, getting the developing tear before it can stream down. “aww, baby,” he coos, it made you cringe and almost sick hearing how sweet his voice was,“you still want more?”. all you could really do was nod, you were too stunned by your own upcoming orgasm to speak. he snickers and you can see him remove his belt as he does. your legs were dangling, but seeing him reach for his belt made you put them up on the desk.
“oh, honey. you’re getting ready for me?”
you nod once again, looking at him below the belt. you see that you don’t need to help him get it up, he’s good to go. as he wraps his arm around your thigh, using his free hand to grab hold of his cock. he groans, as presses his uncircumcised head against your swollen clit, throwing his head back when he begins to slight it down. feeling him touch your most sensitive areas once again, brought noises no short of irresistible and desired upon both their lips. “fuck…,” he moans twice, the second moan louder than the first as he’s now pushed deep inside you. you try to be quiet, but his steady rhythm was making your insides melt and noises ever so soft. everything spilling from your lips was slutty, but kendall’s were sluttier.
“ugh, fuck, baby,”
he wouldn’t dare look at you. there was this slight submission in gaze. fucking you desperately, wanting you to take charge in whatever way possible. he wants you to encourage and praise him till he cums. he likes when you hold him as he thrusts deep in you. you settle for the praises, somehow his movements become needier. he’s the first man to make you cum, the first who knows what it takes to get you there.
you tug on his arm sleeve, indicating just how close you are to climaxing. that submissive expression vanishes and in its place, its a conniving smirk. his head tilts up once again. “mhmm, i wanna cum inside you,” he begs and groans, putting your legs over his shoulders, “let me cum in that pretty cunt, honey”. now you’re encouraging him. you’re telling him “cum inside me” and “cum for me”, he can’t help it. you’d long since reached your orgasm, but feeling his cum paint your insides drove you wild. feeling this rather big load spill outside of your pussy? even wilder.
kendall catches his breath, coming back to you and spreading your pussy only slightly. seeing his cum spilling brought slight shame to him.
“oh, uh, sorry. i’m sorry”
you shake your head, you were so fucked out and all you wanted was nothing more than to hold him. reaching for him, he becomes receptive to your advance and grabs your hand. he guides you to the nearest couch where he lays on top of you. he’s only there for a minute, as now its starting to hit you his jizz is still fully coating your vagina. “ken,” you say,“i should probably get washed up, no?”. he nods, getting off of your chest. “you can finish up some work as i get the water going and while you bathe, i’ll try and help out with your work and clean up the area”.
you smile, there’s warmth in this smile, the warmth only he brings out of you. “thank you, ken,” you say to him, you kiss him, “i love you so much”. he messes your hair even more than he already has, saying,“i love you too”. he does as he promises. he runs your bath, does your work. it wasn’t until next morning that you realize how much of your work he really did. you slept in, almost late and cursing yourself. you walk to your office, only to find kendall asleep with his head down and fine that the monitor is on. its your email account, with recent messages sent to your boss titled “annual report” submitted at 3:47AM.
#succession#kendall roy#kendall succession#kendall roy x reader#x reader#smut#kendall roy smut#marasch1nocher1e :: kendallroy#shiv roy#roman roy#connor roy#tom wambsgans#greg hirsch#tomgreg#succession fanfic#fanfic#smut fic
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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.”
#kendall roy#jeremy strong#succession#fanfic#ao3#fanfiction#kendall roy smut#kendall roy x reader#kendall roy x you#ao3 fanfic#oneshot#request
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