#Roy’s Motel | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

z3nitsusgf · 6 months

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paper bag

roman roy | reader

tw: fem!reader, toxic relations, manipulation, l*gan roy, romann is sick in the head, Roman says a slur (unsurprising), dog motif, teasing, dirty talk, ooc roman bc he's scared of pussy irl, this shit long af I’m sorry, backwards storytelling bc I’m inconsistent

The room is sticky. Sweltering in a post-august heat. The box fan churns and spits out whatever puffs of air it can muster, but the both of you still sweat on the linens of the motel bed.

The walls are stained from years of misuse and neglect, tinged a dirty yellow. You can’t tell if it’s oil or something more debauched that clings to the plaster, probably the latter.

It’s late into the night, too late for anything to be open and too early for it to be acceptable to up and leave. So the two of you are rooted here, stuck till daybreak.

The sounds of people arguing, a car horn blaring, and the buzz of fluorescent whir through your head. There’s a small box TV, it fizzles and pops every time you try to change the channel. Gurgling in a pre-2000s war cry. You could almost laugh at the circumstances.

You wonder how the fuck you’ve managed to snag New York’s brattiest billionaire, even more at how you’ve convinced him to fuck you in a shitty motel just outside of Hell’s Kitchen. Or to even fuck you at all, you only know rumors of his… strange bedroom endeavors.

You stifle an un-humored chuckle, Roman is lying like a royal Persian cat across the bed, shirt long gone and covered only in his boxers. A brand you've never heard of laces his hips, something expensive and out of reach. Just like most of him.

“What?” He asks, head resting on a closed fist. He draws shapes on your leg, neat nails dragging along the soft skin. He likes the smell of your lotion, something girlish and fresh like linen. Almost like something Shiv would wear, or a nanny from his memory. All he knows is that he likes it.

“Nothin’, just thinking.”

He likes your accent. It reveals your upbringing, obviously not the stupidly refined wealth that Roman inhabits but something humbler. It’s a little rough around the edges but not crass. Your words are straightforward and clear, unlike his family's. The bubbling words they offer to air up a conversation, you cut straight through that.

“Thinking about what?”

You give a smile, taking a long drag of your American Spirit and tipping your head back to blow it up to the stained ceiling. The smoke curls and swirls around before dissipating into nothing. He's not used to the smell, it gives the air a hint of pine-tinged outdoorsy aroma. Warm, comforting, familiar, and terrible all at once. Like something Logan would smell like when he came home, on the rare occurrence Roman was around him long enough to get a whiff.

“How I just bagged the Roman Roy, and how it’s gonna look in the papers.”

You joke, obviously. You’d never tell your endeavors to the pressing public or the sneaky little journalists that gripe for your small breadcrumbs about the family. Even if it is technically your job.

Roman hums, “Waystar son indulges in debauched acts with local journalist slut.”

He makes a gesture with his hands, eyes lighting up and going wide. A dopey grin rested on the plane of his cheeks, a row of sparkling whites glimmering under the citrusy glow of the lamp.

“Fuck you.”

You kick him haphazardly in the chest, his laugh rings around the room like a bell. Roman grabs your ankle, curling his fingers around the bone and yanking you down towards him. He’s uncaring of how you slip down the headrest, watching how you squeak and mumble small profanities.

“Prick could’ve dropped the ashes on me.” You mumble, not serious in the slightest.

“What would your father say?”

You snip, reaching down and dragging a hand through his hair, tussling the already licked-up sweaty strands. He practically melts into your touch, eyes closing and lips parting at the contact. He memorizes how your nails feel on his scalp, visualizing the soft pink of your polish running through the strands.

It feels good to have you touch him so effortlessly. As if he was nice to hold and caress, something soft to be sentimental with. Not a bad dog locked in a kennel for once but allowed to curl up on the bed.

But that's exactly what he is, isn't he? He is the dog that sleeps on the floor at the edge of the bed. Curled in on himself, happy to just be close. Nosing at the sheets, contempt with the presence of its owner. Even if he's cold, shivering from the floorboards - you just being there is enough to keep him warm. The few pats on the head allow him to sleep through the night. He is the dog that never leaves your side, sitting off to the right of you and waiting.

He lets out a bitter giggle, a small grimace twitching his lips. It hides the shimmer of despair that is pooled in his head.

“He’d probably be glad I got some pussy for once. Maybe he’ll stop calling me a fag.”

He laughs when he says it, even though a part of you knows he’s dead serious. You've come to learn he always is when it comes to his father.

The sadness cuts through the raunchiness of his words and you fight off the frown that wants to stitch itself across your face. A part of you wants to reach out and mend together the brokenness, another wants to pull out your journal and backlog it for later. A rotten, benign part of you wants to take this man apart and study it to smithereens.

Roman doesn’t say much, surprisingly. He’s reserved in his intimacy, holding back all the love and care that he wants to pour out. He's been starving for decades, yearning for a love that won't come. He's resigned to the fact he is broken. Besides, he’s not here to cuddle up to you for anything more than to get you to not publish your story on the Roy’s. You're both fighting for the same thing, just on different sides.

You respond the only way you knew how, “Fuck, that’s really fucking depressing.”

Roman admires your brutal style, honesty is a rarity that he treasures when it comes. It's why he noticed you in the first place, your articles about the wealthy family in the tabloids caught his eye. Especially the ones about him -it sounds different when you say it, not like you're vying for an undercut but like you're genuine.

He laughs.

You both laugh. Tipping your heads back and howling with laughter. He's got tears in his eyes, and you can't breathe.

///

“Not really your cup of tea, huh?”

You teased, flinging off your shoes and laying on the questionable sheets.

He gives you a snarky grimace and raises a brow, “Careful, you might get scabies or a fucking STD just from breathing in the air.”

It’s not the sort of place you’d expect to see Roman Roy occupy. You can hardly even wrap your head around the fact he’s here now. You imagine the Roy in lavishness, draped in silken white and cashmere. Sipping champagne from a crystal glass brought by room service. Watching the glittering of New York from a floor-to-ceiling window on the billionth floor of a hotel that costs your entire paycheck for just one night.

No, you can’t even pretend that Roman doesn’t look completely out of place here. With his no-tie, popped collar, Tom Ford wannabe pretentious ass. He’s comically out of place. It makes you want to giggle to hell at the way he looks so uncomfortable.

A pretty little rich boy who’s never had to worry about being in anything other than a 5-star. Who now stands in a seedy motel that looks more like a crack house than the Arlo in Midtown. And in place of the champagne, he chugs your shitty beer and water bottle vodka. Cracking open a six-pack of michelob’s and cringing at the taste. It’s painfully cheap, but alcohol is alcohol.

“Come on, don’t act so high and mighty. Relax.”

You pat the empty space next to you, scooting over so he can tentatively sit. You have your thick black journal resting beside you, inside containing all the juicy details and bits about the Roys that would burn down empires and topple over conglomerates.

You’ve hidden most of it well, you’ve had to, or else you get a hit put out on you from the man himself, Logan Roy. Using different names when publishing your work, making interviews anonymous - hell, you feel like Batman with the way you work in the shadows.

Roman inches onto the mattress, eyeing the notebook at your side. He knows, vaguely, what it contains. The secrets, the stories, untamed facts about the company and his family. Usually, he wouldn't give a rat's ass about what a snoopy little journalist had to say about him and his family.

He’ll admit your stuff is good, great even but it's all fluff, a buffer that fills up the sides of newspapers so they have more meat to them. And most of the time it's always the same thing; how horrible his father is, the treatment of Waystar employees, how disconnected the children of the billionaire were. But you- you dug deeper than that.

He never had a reason to look into you until now.

Your stories were revelations for the public. The lies, the coverups, the shady business that their media team works day and night to conceal. You spill it all. And now that you're gaining more traction, more popularity, they're losing revenue quickly. Business deals are turning to dust, stocks are dropping, and employees are quitting on the spot. It's making Waystar crumble from the inside out. And Logan refuses to lose from a puny little journalist, let alone a woman.

When Gerri and Karolina uncovered who was behind the articles, they wilted. If they had told Logan who you were - what you were - he would've squashed you like a bug. Completely ruined your life till you had nothing.

So they took a different approach, a softer more merciful route. They sent Roman after you, and like the loyal dog he is, he went. Mingling with over-eager, latte-sipping, pretentious journalists to get your contact info.

It wasn't as easy as he thought, more work than he wanted to put in. But regardless, he eventually a friend of a friend of a friend gave you up. Not soon after you got a very informal email from the COO, asking to meet up for an "interview" on the pretense of discussing your stories. Or your "allegations" as he liked to call it.

To say you were surprised was an understatement, you nearly passed out in disbelief. It started with meeting him on neutral ground, a coffee shop. Somewhere public and clean, nothing seedy or easily misconstrued.

And when Roman strutted into the small shop, you were very aware of how real this was all becoming. The starkness of his wealth is evident in comparison to the rest of the shop.

"Ah, if it isn't the little paper-pusher I've heard so much about."

Those were his first words to you.

“Mr. Roy, a pleasure to meet you.”

He sat in front of you, pulling off his jacket and haphazardly throwing it over the back of the chair. You're 100% sure it costs more than your yearly salary. At your words, he gives an obnoxious giggle.

“Please, don’t call me that. Makes me think we’re in some sick porno.”

You raise a brow at his crassness, “Ok.. pleasure to meet you, Roman.”

He stifles another giggle but reaches a hand across the table, shaking yours.

Once he’s pulled back he claps his hands together, “Alright, what do you get from this shithole. And don’t tell me you’re one of those hipster-loving morons who gets like matcha or some shit.”

Your eyes widen at how loud he’s being, uncaring that staff or other customers might hear his openness. You know what kind of person he is, you’re just not used to the oozing brattiness in person.

You can only gawk, “Well, um, usually I get a macchiato or just a regular cup of coffee.”

He nods, “Hmm, I see. Ok. I’ll get whatever you get. Throw in a Danish too, I’ll pay.”

You blink vigorously, “Oh no, it’s alright Mr. Roy-”

“Roman.” He corrects, giving a cheeky grin.

“And don’t worry about it, you’re not gonna break the bank with some cheap-ass coffee.”

You wonder if this was a good idea at all, but you quickly come back to reality. You’re here for business, you can’t treat this like a nightmare date from hell. Even if that’s what it feels like. So you do as he says, ordering the coffees and two danishes, even getting an extra muffin to-go.

Time quickly flew by, as much as you hated to admit it. You managed to tug the man back into the conversation you came for - Waystar. Though Roman was more elusive than anything.

Tapping on the table, leaning his chair back, and distracting you with other topics that most certainly were not work-appropriate. Like if you were just making all this fuss because you just wanted to get finger-blasted by the COO. That one made you flush and snap at him like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

But he was so charismatic, in his own twisted way. Like a car crash, you couldn’t look away from, the smoldering flames and heated looks were more than you thought he was capable of.

After hours of talking he drew out your more playful side, the snarky little wit you don’t usually use with the people you’re working with. It was inevitable. And soon, it was late into the evening. With the coffee shop getting ready to close for the night.

“Looks like it’s time to wrap it up for the day.”

You moved to stand, dusting off crumbs from your lap. And Roman is quick to jump up, “Aw, you sure? I mean it’s not that late, wanna maybe head out somewhere?”

He’s vague with his words, you give him a smirk.

“Are you trying to get me alone with you, Roman?”

He chuckles and puts on his jacket, “Of course, I mean, how else am I gonna murder you?”

You both laugh, “Murder me? Sweet little me? What for?”

The two of you walk onto the sidewalk, the crisp night air breezing through your hair.

“We both know you’re not sweet.”

You smile, tucking a lip between your teeth. He’s magnetic, in a venomous and dark way. You know it’s wrong to do this, to get close like this. But sometimes you have to do things in order to get what you want.

“I know somewhere we can go.”

///

That’s how you got here, at least how you remember it. It’s all blurred from the copious amount of alcohol you’ve drank.

Now you have a very not sober Roman Roy on top of you.

He’s flushed, there’s pink smattering across his heated cheeks and he’s got blown pupils the size of the moon. He leers over you, his hand cupping your throat. He’s close, too close.

You can feel the curve of his lip on your cupid's bow, the prickle of his stubble. He smells like Costa Azzurra, citrusy and woodsy. It clouds your drunken brain, making you want to pant and sink your teeth into his neck.

Roman is mumbling, you can’t quite make it out but you feel the warmth of his breath across your cheek. It feels dizzying, like a waking dream.

“I’m gonna kill you. Not gonna let you leave, you’re stuck with me.”

He huffs against the warm apple swell of your cheek. You giggle at that; he feels the warmth of your laugh. The scent of lime and lone star on your breath. There’s a certain giddiness that flutters in your tummy at the words, a sick satisfaction.

One that a dark part of you craves. A feral depravity lies in between your teeth. One that aches to chew on his marrow and swallow him whole. When they trust you to completion, it makes you want to crush them completely.

“Oh yeah?”

You’re hazy. Starry-eyed with droopy lids, face hot from the alcohol and closeness. There are bruises in the shape of his teeth. Ringed purple marks that fade into shimmery blue and greens. Speckled aches across your thighs and neck - all from him. Like rabid animals fighting the very nature of their beings, you claw and tear at one another like beasts deprived.

He buries his face in your chest, trying to hide himself within it - claw his way in and sit inside your heart. Plunging his hands into your back and holding you to him like you were the only ones on earth. He kisses your skin, brushing his lips along your collarbone, down to the center. Straight in your solar plexus, like he could see through it.

As if he could see that beating organ as if he could reach in and take it.

“Yeah. Wanna keep you, like a pet or a girlfriend. What’s the difference?”

You squirm at his hot breath on your neck, the humid air making you needy. You grab his face in your hands, lifting his face up to you and pressing your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. He groans, he doesn’t even wait before he slips his tongue in. Sliding across your lips and flicking on the roof of your mouth. You make a choked sound, the feeling of his tongue invading your mouth.

You can feel the hard bulge of his cock pressing against your stomach, it makes you ache with need.

“Roman,” you pant, “I wanna fuck you.”

He hums, “Wanna fuck you too, wanna fuck your pussy.”

You moan, you want to tear him apart at the seams and eat him whole. Crack that soft apricot heart and bite down into his tissue. You bet he tastes just like it too, sweet and sugary like jam. You want to rip him to shreds, consume each sliver, and savor him like he’s raw slices of strawberries on your plate.

///

He spreads your thighs, gripping your ass in rough hands, practically moaning at the sight of your fucked out pussy. There are silvery webs of slickness that glisten along your cunt. You’re panting into the sheets, fisting them as you shiver from the cold AC.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re so wet.”

His thumbs graze along your swollen lips, and you twitch - whining like a puppy that wants a kiss. Hips jerking into the mattress when he grips the fat of your ass and swipes your folds.

“Look at you, so fucked out. And you still want more?”

You nod, humming breathy whimpers each time he gets close to your clit. You let out a sharp yelp when he slaps a hand across your ass, hands flailing and thighs instinctively trying to shut.

He keeps you spread, knee coming up to prevent you from ruining his fun.

“Gotta say it, babe. Can’t read your mind.”

You’re trembling, lips swollen and drooling as you try to push out the words.

“Yes, I want more.” You mumble, face buried halfway into the sheets.

He’s mean with it, pressing the pad of his thumb onto your pulsing clit. Rubbing till he hears the sloppy sound and you’re jerking away with a scampery yip.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

You could cry, wet tears pooling on your lash line. Your cunt throbs, empty and flushed and fucking aching.

“Please, please I want more. Want your cock-“

He’s groaning, yanking you back till your ass is in the air. Spine arching and you feel the brush of his cock on your folds.

“Yeah? Want my cock?” You can hear the smile in his voice, hips shaking in his hold.

His tip is kissing along your entrance, and he watches with hearts in his eyes at the way you coat him in slick. Rutting the length between your folds, dipping in to watch you clench on nothing. Wetness clinging to your inner thighs and painting your pussy a shimmery diamond-esque.

“Mmhm, want it. Want you to fuck me, want it so bad.” You moan, half brain-dead with how stupid you sound.

He giggles, high a girlishy. Slipping in fast and quick, hips jerking till he’s flushed with your ass. His pace is like a rabbit, practically humping you into the mattress. You yelp at the feeling, cock splitting you in two.

“Roman-!”

“What was that?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. It makes you whine, gripping the edge of the bed as he slams harder.

“I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you getting fucking pounded.”

You let out a moan when he hits deep. Slotting all the way, flushed against your ass. His tip is kissing something untouched inside you, sticky head brushing along the cushiony pucker of your cervix.

“Fuck you-“

You choke on your words when he bucks his hips. Slamming impossibly farther.

“Huh? Speak up, baby. Can’t hear you, your wet pussy is too loud.”

You bury your face into your arm. Biting at your lip to keep the drool from spilling over your mouth.

“How’s it feel? Feelin’ good? My little paper-pusher like how I fuck her?”

He makes you insane.

You fist at the sheets, nails digging into the soft gray linen. He’s pushing you into a pretty arch, thumbs keeping your ass spread so he can watch himself fuck your cunt.

“God, your pussy is insane.” His hips are smacking against the backs of your thighs. You’re on the verge of tears from how good it feels, you can feel the veins of his cock pulsing in you. Mouth parted and spilling sticky moans.

“Fuck, how are you so wet?” He murmurs, shivering at the feeling of your tight walls gripping along his length. At this point, his thrusts are sloppy and uneven, but the tip of his cock is still able to hit that special spot deep inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Roman, m’gonna cum-”

You absolutely lose your mind when he rolls his hips against you, scratching the sheets.

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

You nod, waiting for the pit in your tummy to explode. But it doesn’t come, Roman pulling out in one even jerk.

You cry out, “What the fuck?”

“If you wanna cum you gotta promise not to publish that little article of yours, babe”

You’re hazy and desperate, in the back of your mind you know what he’s doing. And it clips your chest. But the pulsing of your cunt overrides all sanity. And you’re too fucked out to even care at this point, you just want to cum.

“What’ll be, huh? Wanna get pounded till you gush over my cock, or do you want to post a dumb story about me?”

You whimper, you’re dangling on your own leash of longing. He’s pressed against your back whispering all the fucked up things he promises to do to you if you just give in. Just let go, he murmurs.

Temptation licking the back of your heels like hellfire. It doesn’t help that he’s pawing at your tits, squeezing your tender flesh like clay. Cock slipping and sliding against your sodden cunt, slick with want and need. Dripping a honey-thick desire so brutal you’d think he was a demon sent from the inferno.

“Ok! Ok, won’t post it, just fuck me! Please, Rome.”

He groans, a hearty whiny thing that makes you clench around nothing.

“Good girl, good girl.”

It’s immediate, the way he slams back in and drives home. Your sticky skin slapping against his, thighs shaking with burning effort, stretched cunt a dripping mess against his cock. You’re babbling, hands reaching back to grip his thighs, nails digging into his flesh.

It’s not long before you’re gushing, clamping down, and seeing stars in your blacked-out vision. Hearing Roman moan and whine before he’s pulling out to cum over your back. The warmth spreads over your spine. He’s shivering, thighs twitching, and abdomen clenching. It’s never felt that good before.

You both pant and heave, body relaxing into the sheets. You’re exhausted, eyes lidding and drifting, faintly feeling the sensation of a towel wiping across your skin.

“Holy fuck-”

You smile softly, eyes closed. Roman plops down next to you in bed, watching as you roll over and sit against the headboard. He’s sweaty and so very good-looking. You smile in a chagrin manner, brushing a finger against his cheekbone.

“How’s that for an interview?”

You laugh, swatting his arm.

“You’re crazy.”

He smiles at you, strangely content. A pinprick of emotions swells in his chest, and you feel that influx of rot starts to crawl its way up your chest. He’s so beautiful, that you’d hate to see him crumble when he finds out you already sent your paper to your editor to post.

But for now, you enjoy the small moment of peace between you two. You laugh and joke and keep this sweet until morning until he realizes what you’ve done.

#he’s so dog motif #yes this os about Fiona apple #this man makes me wanna roll into traffic #first time writing something in like… eons #please be gentle I’ve not written since the dark ages #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #val.writes ❦#succession smut #succession x reader #roman roy smut

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suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

wip game: sext

Jason ditches them both in Prague and heads back to Gotham the long way. He doesn't answer when Roy tries calling his burner, though he does text their very small group chat a vague confirmation that he isn't dead again yet a day or three later. Kori immediately sexts him in response, but he's pretty sure that she just still thinks that's how texting works.

Look, he hasn't corrected the misassumption.

Fuck, she is just unfairly attractive all the time, though, isn't she. And even more so when he's desperately trying to avoid her and also his emotions.

Roy also sexts him, and is also unfairly attractive despite being who he is as a person. Then the two of them get distracted sexting each other instead, and Jason just lets himself pretend that they can't see his "read" receipts as he follows along.

So he hadn't been all that subtle about how much of a turn-on it'd been the handful of times that they'd gone at each other during his heat despite both being alphas, okay? Sue him. Who the fuck could've been? Not fucking Dick, that's for fucking sure.

Jason is pretty sure that he will never again see anything as mind-meltingly, panty-soakingly hot as the sight of Roy taking Kori's big fat knot in Jason's own damn heat nest and whining for it in his alpha voice while she so-sweetly told him what a good bitch he was being. Just–nope. No. Definitely not.

Jason didn't even know alpha voices could whine like that. Like, he had not been any kind of aware that was an actual thing that an actual alpha voice could actually do.

Also they were both a lot more flexible than he'd ever really let himself think about too much before.

And had a lot more . . . endurance.

So that'd all been very extremely destructive to his sanity, yeah. And his higher thought processes. And just his . . . everything, pretty much. Pretty much his everything.

Kori and Roy keep sexting the group chat with annoyingly helpful visual aids until Jason has to stop in a shitty motel just outside of Gotham and fuck himself stupid for a few hours, because they're the literal worst teammates in the literal entire world and he hates them both and also he wants both their stupid fucking knots in him right fucking now and Lian can be the flower-bearer and the ring-girl as far as he's concerned, he doesn't even care.

Bastards.

Jason catches up with the group chat, takes a very, very cold shower, and then drives the rest of the way towards Gotham. He does not check his phone even one more time, because knowing Roy and Kori he'd probably crash his fucking bike if he did.

He doesn't think about any fucking romance novel bullshit either.

#joyfire #jason todd #omegaverse #not sfw #rinfic #wip: jason goes home

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deadmotelsusa · 2 years

Note

Could you do a post on the motel that became the Trixie Motel?

Yes! Before it was the Trixie Motel, it was called the Coral Sands Inn. I believe it was built in the early 1950s, though I have seen some reports saying it dates back to 1945. The Coral Sands was originally owned and operated by Roy and Irene Harlow. In 2000, Ruby Montana bought the motel, painted it pink and decorated it with kitschy decor, setting the stage for what it would eventually become. Very excited to add the Trixie Motel to my list of motels to visit in 2023. Photo source

#trixie motel #coral sands inn #palm springs #california #deadmotelsusa

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eeveebitches · 7 months

Text

lacy. || Roman Roy || smut

Pairing: Sub!Roman Roy x F!Dom!Reader Summary: Roman inquires about your lacy panties.

Word count: 2.137

18+ only! More under the cut,

Warning(s): SMUT, aka 18+ only! Sub Roman, degradation, panty kink (roman wearing said panties) coming in pants/panties, light praise kink

Summary: You have a gift for Roman, and he seems to enjoy it.

A/n: finished writing this like... a few minutes ago so enjoy!

_______________________

He's... staring.

Quietly, with intent you have no knowledge of, Roman is staring at you as you gently put on your lacy black panties. His eyes follow the movements of your hands, watching you push your legs through the leg openings one by one. It's like he's transfixed, eyes glassed over and lips sucked in between his teeth as he observes you with a light frown.

Your partially undried skin shimmers as you pull the garment up fully, giving Roman a quizzical look. "Everything okay, Romes?" The awkward nod and 'uhuh' he gives you are unconvincing. As you grab your bra from inside the bathroom, you glance over your shoulder.

He's just now dressed, hair tousled and a frazzled look on his face as he breaks his stare to instead look at the ground. "Are you sure? You seem a little weird," you ask as you step out of the bathroom, tactfully putting on your matching black bra. Roman's gaze doesn't leave the floor, which strikes you as a bit odd. Before you stepped out of the shower he seemed his usual, vulgarly talkative self.

"D'you even like me? Or d'you just show up to my fuckin' apartment to use my shit like some homeless guy in a motel stealing tiny soaps."

You laugh from inside the shower, glancing through the chic curtains to watch his darkened silhouette. The sharp noise of his pants unzipping catches your attention as you scrub your body clean of pollution and sweat. "Are you seriously taking a piss while I'm showering?"

You watch the shape of his head fall back a bit, and he's fucking peeing. "You couldn't even wait a few minutes to pee? What's happened to privacy, Romes?" you ask through a laugh, continuing to foam up the luxurious soap Roman owns. You're sure that the cleaners simply replace it whenever it's almost finished, since every time you shower here it's freshly opened.

"My bathroom, my pee rules. Plus, we have weird ass no-touchy sex like, all the fucking time. Is me peeing near you really the limit? That's just weird, y'know," he rambles, and you can hear him finish up. The sound of a zipper pulling up, together with the gentle flush of his way too expensive toilet, let you know he's done. "Just get out of the bathroom before I spank you," you joke, to which he replies with a lighthearted "yes, master".

"Where'd you get the, uhh, set from?" With a raised brow you look at Roman as he fiddles with his cuticles. You shrug, grabbing an old shirt of yours from Roman's closet. "I dunno, some random lingerie place. I think I got it as a birthday present for myself, actually," you hum as you struggle to get your head through the shirt.

It's a shirt you've had for far too long, but its softness and durability have kept you from giving it away. Well, until Roman basically claimed it for his growing collection of your belongings. He always jokes that he keeps the items there so that you "can't wear them when you're with other guys", a clumsy attempt at masking his sense of ownership over your company (and his raging insecurity issues, of course).

"Why do you ask, by the way? Something up with what I'm wearing?" you yet again ask.

He throws himself back, letting his back bounce onto his mattress as he stares at his plain ceiling. "Nothing, just fuckin', I dunno, thinking about stupid shit," he mumbles out. You put your plans of searching for pants to wear on pause, instead joining Roman next to him. Your head hits his fluffy mattress, and he looks to the side. Looks at your face, scanning your expression, mind racing with thoughts you still have no idea about.

You hoist yourself up a bit, resting your head on your held up hand as you now slightly look down at him. His eyelashes flutter as he looks up at you with those hypnotizing hazel eyes. You don't say anything. You simply give him a look that makes it clear to him you won't talk again until he does.

"Just, this is so fucking dumb, but are they like... soft? Or," as he watches your brows raise yet again he flusters, "never mind, god, I sound like a fucking creep. Just forget about it," he mumbles out, looking away from you and back at the ceiling.

"That's not dumb at all. They are soft, just not as comfortable as boxers, so I rarely wear them when I'm just relaxing at home." Roman hums in reply, mind obviously still clouded. You awkwardly chuckle at his strange mood. "Do you wanna, like, wear them or something?"

The moment you utter those words, he shoots up, like he was electrocuted by your question. "Wait, do you wanna wear them?"

Roman lets out a nervous giggle, wiping his hands against his thighs. "No, why the fuck would I wear your fuckin' underwear? I'm not that much a freak, even if I seem like it. Plus, my dick is the size of a fucking baguette, it'd just-- it'd probably tear the lace the moment I even try to put it on. Like Hulk wearing a teeny tiny shirt, y'know?"

"Roman, if you wanna try on my panties you can just ask."

He stills at that. Stares at you some more. First doubtfully, like you were baiting him into an obvious trap. Then sheepishly, face growing hotter as he seriously considers your offer. "And what, you wouldn't mind my grown man dick 'n ball sweat ruining them or some shit?"

"Nope," you answer back, and without another word you start shimmying the black fabric off of your body. You giggle at the way Roman stiffens when you drop the undergarment on his lap, eyes wide in shock. "You're-- you're fucking with me, right? No way you get yucked out about me peeing while you shower, but are fine with me wearing your panties like a perverted stalker," he reasons, hands shaking as he hesitates in grabbing the pair of panties.

You wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him close enough to give you easy reach for his ear. "I wanna see you wear them for me," you whisper against the shell of his ear, revelling in the way he shivers. He lets out a breathy whine, hands ever-so-carefully grabbing onto the delicate garment. He rubs the fabric between his index finger and thumb, cautious yet curious.

"You're gonna be the death of me," he groans out before quickly making his way to the bathroom, panties clutched in his hand. With a small 'click!' he locks said door, leaving you confused for just a moment.

The muffled sound of Roman removing his pants is the only background noise you have as you sit and wait, legs crossed to keep from getting too cold. You're not totally surprised that Roman's interested in your underwear. He's always had a thing with your clothes, keeping your worn shirts under his pillow to sniff them and jerk of or... something like that.

When you first found your tank top stashed underneath a pillow of his, that's what he tensely joked, anyway. With a high-pitched laugh he snatched the top away, telling you, "don't mind that, I just sniff your clothes and jerk off to it. I even cum on the clothes, so those bleach stains are actually, uh, my semen. You don't mind me using your clothes as a cum rag, right?"

You had simply laughed at him, encouraging him to keep it up, whether it was a joke. He huffed out a 'maybe I will', back then, face smug but eyes betraying just how much effect the trading of words had.

The bathroom door slowly unlocks, and Roman walks out. He looks the same as he did minutes before, the only noticeable difference being the obvious outline of his cock pressing against his trousers. He shifts uncomfortably, looking everywhere except for at you. "Well, I'm wearing them. Happy?"

With a sly grin you stand up and walk over to him, letting out a low whistle as you look him up and down. "I don't see the panties, Roman. For all I know you're fucking with me," you say. He fidgets with the tips of his fingers as he looks down. "Then don't believe me, whatever, not like I give a shit."

You keep quiet, instead lightly placing your hand against his chest. His breathing falters as you slowly let your hand go lower and lower, until the tips of your fingers reach the top of his pants. "Can you at least let me check? Wanna make sure you're being honest with me," you hum out, voice dangerously low and dangerously close to his ear.

"Hah-- fuck, sure, be my fuckin' guest," Roman gasps out. Your hand slowly goes to his zipper, and with your other hand you carefully open his pants up.

And holy shit, he's actually wearing your panties.

The darkness of them contrasts deliciously against his pale bottom half, the intricate lace detailing resting perfectly on his skin. The upper parts of his cock are on full display as they peek from above the fabric. With a singular finger you wipe at the slit, collecting a bit of his already leaking pre-cum. You chuckle at the desperate moan he lets out, and casually push your finger into his mouth.

Obediently, he licks it up. The sounds he's making around your finger are sinful by themselves, but the way his hips involuntarily thrust up leaves your head reeling with lust. "My god, how desperate can you be?"

He groans as you pull your finger away and wipe his saliva off on his trousers. You allow yourself to slowly stroke his cock through the panties, enjoying every twitch. "You're throbbing right now, all because you're wearing my panties. How does that make you feel, Roman?" You allow yourself to slowly stroke his cock through the panties,

"Filthy," he moans out, head falling to nuzzle into your shoulder. Following his movements, you wrap your free arm around his neck, pulling him further into you. You laugh at the sound of him smelling you and moaning at your scent. "This is another level of pathetic, I hope you know that. You're getting off on wearing women's underwear. What would your father say?"

He gasps at both your words and the way your grip tightens on his length. You can feel your panties moisten as you pull them up all the way, trying to have all of his cock covered by the thin fabric. It works for the most part, and it was definitely worth the slight bit of effort.

The added friction of the fabric rubbing against the sensitive tip of his cock sends hum into a gasping frenzy. His moans are directly against your ear as he nuzzles himself further into you, grasping onto you for dear life as you rub him to near completion. "The panties look so pretty on you, but that doesn't change the fact that it's disgustingly perverted. You're an obsessive, panty-loving freak, aren't you?"

"I am, fu--uck, I am."

You cackle at his desperation. "And only for me, right? I doubt you have the balls to be this openly pitiful around anyone else," you purr into his ear. "Only f'r you, only you," he moans out, hips rutting to match the pace of your strokes.

"Are you gonna cum for me, Roman? Gonna make a mess in my pretty panties?"

He nods ferociously, hips stuttering in their movements. "Wanna hear you beg to cum, pretty boy," you coo.

"Please, fuck, please let me cum, 'm gonna be soo good, 'n just-- cum in your, fucking, god," he whines out. You use the arm wrapped around him to instead hold his face, forcing him to look at you. "Say you're gonna cum in my panties, Roman."

"'M g'na cum in your, ah, your panties. 'M gonna fucking cum and make a-- make a mess and be so disgusting, j'st for you."

"That's a good boy. Cum for me?"

He lets out a longwinded, low moan as he finishes, cock twitching as you feel your panties soak with his sperm. Desperately, he gasps for breath as he lets his head fall onto your shoulder. He's lightly heaving, face flushed beyond belief and beads of sweat running down his forehead.

You give the top of his head a kiss. "You okay, Romes?"

"Yeah, just... fuck, give me a second to, uh, not die," he mumbles between haggard breaths. You simply hum in response, gently stroking his hair as he catches his breath.

After a few moments, he looks up, eyes glassy, and asks,

"Do I really look pretty in these?"

"The prettiest."

#roman roy x reader smut #roman roy x you #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy #roman #succession x reader #succession smut #succession hbo #succession #roman wears your undies #female reader #romulus roy

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williammarksommer · 1 year

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Roy’s

California

All The Time In The World

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

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adamnsey · 1 year

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i need the roy family to get schitt’s creecked so bad. like just fully lose all their money all business some how and move a motel in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. roman can be david and finally be freely bisexual and learn to fuck in a safe stress-free environment. ken can be alexis and manic pixie dream girl as hard as he wants (little bit alexis = L to the OG???). shiv be lesbian and get fucked by the hot front desk woman. tom is the pathetic mayor whom no one respects but he’s obliviously happy bc he has some sense of power. greg is his trophy wife. logan can be the begrudging dad who slowly starts to learn some sort of lesson about humility and the importance of family but then dies before any real character development occurs. roman is also somehow moira in this scenario but don’t overthink it .

#i just think. this is the only way forward #only way i see it getting healthy #succession #schitt’s creek #kendall roy #shiv roy #roman roy #logan roy #tom wambsgans #greg hirsch #tomgreg #mine

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kendallroydefender · 4 months

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Somewhere only we know - Chapter 12 (Kendall Roy x Reader)

Masterlist

Series summary: You met Kendall when you were six years old. You have spent every summer together and now years later you and him are still just as close.

This story follows Kendall and his best friend through their lives. Will they realize their feelings for each other before it’s too late?

Chapter summary: It’s the night of Kendall’s 40th birthday but the big party ends differently than you all thought.

Authors Notes: Hope you all had a great Christmas! 🤍

Wordcount: 2.9K

”Happy birthday Kenny!“ you smile as you give him a long hug.

”Thank you, honey.“ he squeezes you

”Look at you, old man.“

”Yeah I’m, I’m ancient now.“ he chuckles knowing you’re only half a year behind him.

You brought him a small cupcake that you made yourself with a candle. But you have to leave soon enough and you know Kendall has to plan a lot for tonight too.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The guestlist was stacked with big names but only a handful people you knew and liked. Stewy had told you that he wouldn’t attend the party so you were looking forward to seeing Rava and Willa again.

Rava introduces you to Gary, who she’d told you about. He’s nice and funny and you’re glad she has found him, she seems happy.

”Soo? Any news on Kendall?“ she asks with a grin that tells you exactly what she’s hinting at

”Well, he’s still with Naomi so no?“ you say

”Hm.“ she makes an unsatisfied sound

”We haven’t seen each other these last days much anyway. He was in Virginia I was in LA for work and oh do you know that he thought Stewy and I were fucking?“

Rava laughs ”Seriously?“ by you nod

”Oh he’s so clearly into you… also that explains the room.“

”Rava no. I told you he doesn’t like me..“

”No, y/n I’m telling you. He wouldn’t act like that if he wasn’t, he was clearly jealous.“

”Well it’s not like he’s showing me so he wouldn’t have a say in this even if I were fucking Stewy. Wich im not.“

”Maybe you should.“ she shrugs with a grin

You chuckle a little before you remember something

”Wait, what room?“

When you find the room with the fake tabloid headlines, you see that there’s one of you too. It’s a picture of you and Stewy titled with "Y/n y/l/n and Stewy Hosseini spotted leaving motel together"

You chuckle at it and snap a picture to text to Stewy. Your not mad, it’s obviously a joke and yours is way nicer than the others.

'What exactly am I looking at?' Stewy texts back

'Kendall’s party decor :)'

'What? Were all the balloons sold out?'

You go to explore more of the party. You don’t really want to go to the treehouse because you don’t really vibe with Matsson and also because it breaks your heart. Kendall obviously had build his childhood treehouse to feel some kind of comfort.

You hang out with Rava and Gary for some time until Kendall wants to see her and you and Gary go look around.

You go into the tree house but it’s rather boring. You don’t really vibe with Matsson and you don’t want to be around his siblings, especially Shiv after the letter.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s later, Kendall had cancelled his performance and you last saw him with his girlfriend.

”Where are you all? You’re missing the performance of the century, Shiv is totally losing it on the-" the word dancefloor gets stuck in your throat. You just stumbled into the room where the presents are stored, when you see Kendall kick at the gifts before he sinks down to the ground. Naomi is standing next to him. Are they fighting? You ask yourself. You crouch down next to Kendall. "Hey Kenny, hey.“ you say softly, touching his shoulder. He buries his head in his folded arms. "It’s okay. I’ve got you." You tell him in an attempt to calm him a little. "I just wish I was-" he cuts himself off. "What?" You ask him kindly, your hand gliding over the back of his head. "I just wish I was home.“ he says as tears gather in his eyes. He looks so broken and you can feel your own heart crack. "Okay… okay let’s get you out of here, yes?" You ask him and he nods. You get up, holding your hand out for him to take, wich he does and you help him up. You remember Naomi is standing next to you. She looks at you with one eyebrow pulled up slightly. You can’t tell if she’s worried or condescending you. You turn back to Kendall "Do you want Naomi to take you home?“ you ask, voice low so she can’t hear you over the music. He looks at you and shakes his head a little "Can you?“ he asks and you nod "Of course Ken.“ you squeeze his hand.

"Hey Naomi? I think I’ll take him home." You tell her, she gives you a tight lipped smile before pressing a kiss to Kendall’s cheek "I’ll call you tomorrow.“ she tells him and she follows you out of the party.

"Birthday Boy!“ Roman calls out "Happy Birthday Man!“ And you let out a huff of air. You had hoped not to run into his siblings on your way out. "Not now, Roman.“ You say a little curd. "Yeah sorry! Goodnight!“ His brother calls out and you hope he will leave it at that. But you guess you aren’t that lucky today. Because its Kendall who starts speaking now. "Neither of you should be in here.“ Kendall says, he sounds exhausted. "Can we get them out?“ You’re friend requests to no one in particular before repeating the sentence louder towards one of the security guys. "Its a little late for that, buddy. I already spoke to Mattson, who hates you by the way and laughs at you constantly.“ Roman says while you make eye contact with Shiv, who looks away awkwardly. "Just stop.“ She says to Roman, who answers her immediately "Oh what? Go easy on birthday boy?“. Now its Kendall who speaks again "Did you come here to see me, at all? You didn’t, did you Shiv?“ He asks the red haired woman. "Well.. look we haven’t been getting along that great lately so what do you think?“ She tells him and you just wish for this conversation to be over. They fight for some moments, Roman admits that they were spying on Kendall’s kids.

You see Kendall get closer to his brother, you want to stop him but you can’t move. "You’re not a real person. You know that? You’re not a real person! You’re not real!“ Kendall says. "Come on why don’t you hit me? Come on, shitty Jesus. You know you want to. Just fucking hit me.“ Roman dares him "'You’re not a real person’ fuck you.“ he adds and Kendall moves away. He walks a few step and you and Naomi follow him quietly. "All right sorry, have a good birthday. Okay, fuckface?“ Roman says while patting his back two times before he pushes him. Kendall stumbles and falls. You and his girlfriend rush to his sides as you hear his brother say "Oh shit are you okay?“ While laughing. He calls another "Happy birthday!“ As you help Kendall up. "Everybody take it easy? Okay?“ Connor calls out. ”For fuck sake“ you mumble under your breath. Roman is still laughing his hyena laugh as you get Kendall on his feet again. He looks around, he looks absolutely devastated. He grits another "Take your fucking coat off.“ At Connor before he takes off towards the exit. You don’t spare another look at his family members as you make your way out of this birthday party from hell.

”Yeah, Ken take your girlfriend and your life long side piece and fuck off.“ Roman calls after you. You turn back around with a frown ”Oh come on Roman, really?" You say to the younger man who just chuckles. You pull Kendall with you out of this party. Saying goodbye to Naomi, you give her a hug. Tonight is not the night for weird tensions between you two, at the end of the day you two care about Kendall. She seems content with you too, hugs you back and tells you to take care.

Fikret is already there when you get outside. He holds onto your hand for the whole drive back home and you let your thumb glide over his knuckles .

'I just want to be home' is playing on your mind. He sounded so upset, it makes you want to tear up just thinking about it.

You tell Fikret to drive to your address.

You arrive and the house and the doorman lets you in. The way up is silent like the drive here was. Once in the apartment he lets go of your hand. ”Do you want to drink anything? Or something to eat?“ you ask but he shakes his head. Kendall walks over to your window and opens the door to your balcony. You get him a glass of water anyway. You follow him outside, just standing there for a few moments looking into the city at night. It looks beautiful but your eyes rest on your friend. Trying to read his mind, what he’s thinking about. It probably would break your heart. You have grown more concerned about Kendalls mental health in the last months. You worry constantly about him, wanting to help somehow. You could tell he was on the edge the whole day. His strive for the perfect party, him being an ass to Greg, Comfry and Rava. You even had a small argument yesterday, telling him he can’t make Comfry sell all those lunchboxes on ebay and store them in her apartment. You felt bad for the girl, she was his PR and not some intern. Him possibly loosing the case against his dad weights heavy on him too.

It’s colder now than it was in the daylight, so you go back inside to grab a blanket.

You take the soft fabric and wrap it around his shoulders. "Let’s sit down.“ he follows you to the big lounger and after you sit down he sinks his head down until it rests on your lap. You tangle your fingers in his hair automatically, scratching his scalp, something that had always gave him some comfort.

You wish you could take his worries away. You know Kendall is not in a good place mentally but there’s nothing you can do except from being there for him.

”Uh, Dad, he gave me the opportunity to cash out.“ Kendall speaks up, it’s the first thing he said since you arrived at your place.

”Wow, seriously?“ you ask

”Uh-huh.“

”So what do you want to do?“ you ask still caressing his hair. He turns onto his back so he can look up at you

”I don’t, I don’t know.“

You hum

”Maybe I should do it.“ he says

”Maybe, yes.“ he studies your face for a moment

”I could be free.“

”Could do your own thing or just travel or something.“

He nods a little

”You’re a better person than him, Kendall. I know he’s your dad but he’s not a nice person. But you are. You’re a good man.“ he blinks a few times taking a deep breath.

”Thank you.“

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You wake up the next morning from a phone ringing. "Ken?“ you ask and he groans as an answer. He gets out of bed in his shirt and sweatpants, he has more of his things at your place than at Naomi’s. He searches for his phone in the pocket of yesterdays pants. Naomi is calling and he knows he shouldn’t feel annoyed by it, she’s just worried, she’s caring about him. ”Who is it?“ you ask and he tells you ”Nay.“. After a few more moments he answers the call. "Yeah?… sorry… I’m alright… Uh, no, no I don’t think so… what about tomorrow? Yeah okay, bye." Is what you hear from the dialogue. You can’t help to ask yourself if they’re doing alright as a couple. Kendall puts the phone down on your bedside table before he climbs back under the covers, arms going around your middle as he buries his face into the back of your neck. "Everything okay?“ you ask your hand going up to caress his head. He hums as an answer. You just lay with him for another hour, drifting in and out of sleep.

You make him breakfast, coffee and pancakes and bring them back to your bed. Afterwards while you’re laying back under the covers of your bed, you remember something. You get up and walk towards the bag you carried with you yesterday. ”Where you going? Don’t leave.“ Kendall says and you send him a soft reassuring smile, grabbing the item you wanted to give to him. You climb back in the warm bed and look at the wrapped gift in your hands. ”I forgot to give you my present yesterday.“ you say before adding ”Well, I didn’t forget, I just wanted to give it to you in person.“ you explain. You didn’t want to put it on the present table to all the other presents that seemed to hold no real meaning. He looks at you with big eyes and you hand him the small wrapped box. He looks at it intrigued, slowly tearing off the paper. Carefully because he can tell you wrapped it yourself. In it is a cassette, he reads the label 'Kendall & Y/n‘s mixtape 00' is written in hand and under the plastic case is a pic of the two of you. You must have been around 20 when the picture was taken, it’s from a photobooth that was in the bar near college. It came out as a strip but you cut it up so that you both could have the pictures, his is still in his wallet. It must have been right at the time you two started to sleep with each other, when you were crushing hard on the other. He turns the case and his assumption is confirmed, all the songs you two liked in college are written on the back, some in your writing some others in his. He can feel himself tearing up. After all these shallow things he was given yesterday and the disappearance of his children’s present, the only other present that meant something to him. Even his girlfriends present seemed as if she didn’t knew him.

You cup his cheeks to wipe away some of the tears. ”Thank you. Uh, thank you so much.“ he chokes out. He crumbles then, clinging to you and you feel like crying too. ”Shh, Kenny. It’s okay, I’ve got you.“ you whisper into his hair. ”You will be okay, I’m not gonna leave.“ you caress his neck. When he calms down a little, you just lay there his head resting on your chest, your arms around him. He feels absolutely miserable, his birthday was a disaster, his family hates him, he lost his kids present. All these thoughts circle around his head and he feels empty. Empty and just so tired. He doesn’t know if he has any fight left in him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The weekend was spend with Kendall in your apartment but today you have to go back into work for a bit, there’s a meeting that is fairly important. But what is important, when your best friend is obviously not doing well? You have contact with Jess who you asked to call you should anything happen.

Work is okay, you talk a bit to your friend Michelle who works in PR and you sort through your emails, listen to a few demos that have been sent in and get a few stage plans sent out. The meeting is boring and nothing that couldn’t have been done in an e-mail. At some point you get a message from Kendall asking you if you want to hang out later. Of course you say yes, but you are confused since he wanted to meet Naomi today and you assumed he would stay at hers.

On the way home you buy some food from a place you know Kendall likes.

You call out his name, wondering if he’s already back or still with Naomi. Your thoughts are interrupted when he comes out of his bathroom and you stop in your tracks. Your eyes going wide "Y/n! You’re back!“ he says and you just nod with your mouth slightly agape. His hair is gone. "Wow- okay, what happened to you?“ you ask with a humorous tone in your voice "I thought I needed a change. How do you like it? I think it’s kinda cool, right?“ he asks you while scratching his head. It was probably a manic impulsive decision and that worries you but you can’t deny that he looks hot. "Yeah you look good, really.“ you say slowly coming close to him a grin on your face "Can I?“ you ask as you reach your hand up "Uh-huh.“ he answers and you let your hand go over his head, it feels different but not bad. ”Yeah, it’s really nice.“ he smiles at your words.

"How was you day? How is Naomi?" You ask when you retread your hand "Oh, yeah about that.“ he says and you brace yourself for what could come next "Uh, we kind of broke up.“ he tells you and your eyes widen "Oh I’m so sorry-" he shakes his head "No don’t be, it’s better this way.“ he seems genuine "We weren’t good for each other we would destroy each other.“ he tells you and you have to admit he’s right. "You’re probably right but that doesn’t mean you can’t be sad." He nods but tells you "I’m not- not really. I- uh, there are some things I need to work on.“ you understand that he’s not talking about a deal or work in general, this is more a mental kind of work and you’re proud of him for accepting that he needs help.

You don’t know it but Kendall also had to break up with Naomi because it wasn’t fair towards her to stay with her when his feeling for you are getting harder and harder to bury.

#kendall roy imagine #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #kendall roy fic #kendall roy fluff

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