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hadassah4ever · 24 days

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lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas mattsson x reader #succession x y/n #succession x you #succession x reader #alexander skarsgard x reader

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ghostfacd · 5 months

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I’D BE THE MAN. | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. in which yn receives an unbelievable amount of hate, but she knows that if it were the other way around and she was a guy, they would praise her for being “the man”

installment of this au | read it for context!

ynuser tsitp behind the scenes!! 💌 sean and chris thought it was soooo funny to carry me at random times (thanks guys! very steven and conrad of you) 🤨🤨

tagged @/sean.kauf, @/chrisbriney_, @/thesummeriturnedpretty

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user1 anyone lwk think she’s a slut lol

➥ user2 no bae you’re so right cus why is she letting 2 different guys carry her when she’s literally dating tom

➥ user1 LMAOO real shes so ungrateful, if tom was my bf, i wouldn’t be around other guys

➥ user3 it’s literally?? for?? her?? work?? are you guys deluded, hating on successful women is crazy

➥ user 4 last time I checked, working does not = to whoring yourself with other guys

sean.kauf not our fault you’re easy to carry miss ella fisher

chrisbriney_ fave part of working on set is carrying u and hearing u scream

➥ user5 EVILLL

user6 the way she isn’t even replying to her cast mates are crazy, wake up! you’re not that famous

➥ user7 tbosas being #1 for movies says otherwise but ok!

tomblyth YN!!! My sweet, funny, and incredibly talented girl, congratulations for all you have accomplished. It’s been so much fun with you on the set of TBOSAS, and it’s been absolutely even more endearing to sit behind the scenes and watch you act for TSITP!! Ella Fisher is my favorite Fisher anyways :’)

tagged @/ynuser

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ynuser TOM!! I love you.

➥ user8 only 4 words? oh she hates him 😭

➥ user9 when you would die for tom blyth to post you but y/n avocot doesn’t gaf when he posts her

➥ user10 literally not true? i’m sure she just doesn’t wanna put everything online, we can all tell that she loves him

rachelzegler you guys are the cutest!

➥ user11 is yn holding you hostage??

sean.kauf always love having you on set man

➥ user12 yn’s bf vs yn’s side guy LOL

➥ user13 knock it off, i bet tom wouldn’t like his “fans” disrespecting his gf and her cast members

user14 she never posts him istg this is so one sided

user15 she’s lucky she’s pretty cause she can’t act or sing for the life of her

➥ user16 not even pretty LOLLL

ynuser since everyone thinks i’m so ungrateful, TOM!!! Thank you for always being there for me and comforting me when i’m sad. You’re my best friend and the best boyfriend I could ask for. I love you my love.

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user17 LMAOO yn called y’all out!

tomblyth i love you in every universe, the haters are LAMEEE!!

➥ user18 YOU TELL THEM TOM

VOGUE New Interview And Photo Shoot With New Star Y/N Avocot OUT NOW! The New Actress And Rising Music Star Shares Her Recent Favorite Song — “The Man” By Taylor Swift!

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user19 the man by taylor oml she’s going through it

user20 idk how anyone could hate her, she’s so sweet and gorgeous

user21 miserable ppl on the internet after hating on a girl for no reason other than that she’s close to her cast members

ynuser thank you for having me Vogue!

ynuser if i was a man, then’d i’d be the man!

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iloveyn PURRR YN I LOVE UUUU

tomblyth hell ya u would

sean.kauf queen i miss u, come back to film szn 2

➥ bellyconklinsgf WAIT SZN 2???

➥ sean.kauf oh shit..

➥ ynuser HAHA SEAN THE DIRECTOR AND JENNY HAN ARE GONBA KILL U

user22 so she replies to sean but not tom?? 🤡

➥ user23 LET IT GOOOOOO

user24 i love to see successful women not letting haters tear them down

user25 we love you yn!!!

rachelzegler ID BE THE MAAAAANNNN

#we love successful women!!#Coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #tbosbas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 11 months

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this is like the tiniest moment in all of television that i am THRILLED exists, because it’s just so satisfying to see karl clocking gerri’s roman feelings and gerri oblivious to the fact that someone has noticed, and probably even to the fact that she’s doing anything that could be noticed, because she’s so nervous for roman up there trying to give his eulogy in a state of clear distress. gerri! gerri being that off her guard! gerri! and in relation to j. smith cameron’s recent comment about gerri not realizing how attached she was to roman or really comprehending her own feelings for him because she’s not a sentimental person ... aaaaaaah. aaaaahhh!

#these absolute itty bitty moments are so efficient at telling you so much wtf #like this season technically was pretty dang light on romangerri time #especially the last two episodes!#and yet A FEAST came out of all these tiny little crumbs!#never before have i been so nourished by so little #romangerri #roman x gerri #gerri kellman #succession #dollsome's deep thoughts

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strang3lov3 · 1 year

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strang3lov3’s masterlist

I do not give consent for anyone to copy, plagiarize, translate, or post my work elsewhere for any reason at all. Always ask permission of writers if their work sparks inspiration, and give credit where credit is due.

all fics are f!reader

Joel Miller

One shots

Lookalike - Joel finds your dirty mag and makes you get off in front of him.

Everyday I’m Shufflin’ - Joel is horrified to find out that you cannot shuffle a deck of cards, so he teaches you in a rather unorthodox way.

A Learning Process - When it rains, it pours. Shit hits the fan the first day you’re alone with your infant son, and Joel comforts you.

Tis’ But a Scratch - Too stubborn and proud to admit your mistakes or that you may need Joel’s help sometimes, Joel decides to teach you a lesson.

For Science - Joel helps to alleviate your period cramps. You know, for science.

Sleeping Beauty - Joel realizes you’re dreaming of him and wakes you up in the best way possible (his head between your thighs)

Self-Indulgent Tendencies - (dbf!joel) Joel finds you skinny dipping in his pool, and gives you two options. He can call the cops on you or he can punish you himself. You choose the latter of the two.

Phone a Friend - a story of two assholes and how they resolved their sexual tension (alternatively, Joel is sick of hearing you masturbate night after night)

Death by Flirting - five times you made Joel blush, and when he finally did it back to you.

Cup of Sugar - (dilf!neighbor!Joel) Joel catches you rifling through his belongings when you’re frantically searching for batteries after your vibrator dies.

Joyride - (dbf!joel) when your car breaks down, Joel decides to give you one of his. He just has to make sure you can handle a stick first ;)

Have your cake and eat it too - (brat tamer!joel, mean!joel, dom!joel) when you make joel bust in his favorite pair of jeans, he makes you clean your mess.

Erotic City - adult store owner! Joel helps you learn to make yourself come

Cream (horny husband!joel x reader) Joel is insatiable. He convinces you to get it on at his aunt's house on Thanksgiving. He's also got a lot of dirty Thanksgiving jokes he thought of last year that he's been saving to annoy you.

Fighting Fair - Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Love Spell - (Sex pollen) After eating some mysterious berries, you and Joel spend a very memorable and unexpected Valentine’s Day together

Enjoy the Silence - You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

Chevelle - (virginity loss) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money

Play Stupid Games - who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples?

Series:

Lather (incomplete) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🚿🧼💦 part one, part two

Mall Rats(complete) Joel keeps track of you as you search your way through an abandoned mall. You don’t make his job easy. First stop is Victoria’s Secret Part one, part two, part three, part four, halloween special, part five part six, part seven

Brain Scramblies (complete) after sustaining a concussion, you tell Joel how you really feel about him. You don’t remember a thing the next day. Part one, part two

Roman Roy

One shots

Invisible Line- boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Updated 04/17/2024

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #strang3lov3 #succession #succession x reader #succession fic #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #roman roy #Roman Roy x reader smut

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nartothelar · 2 months

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happy white day! 🤍

sequel to this valentine’s comic sksks:

#SUCCESS SHOOT FOR THE SKY EVEN IF YOU MISS YOULL FALL AMONG THE STARS #depot agent josh #emmet #oc x canon #pokemon oc #oc #kudari

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just-null-cult · 5 months

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im so mad at u omg

how dare u make my noritoshi obsession 10 times worse

Noritoshi spews his true feelings when you're upset with him. Similar to a very eager puppy trying to regain your favor by any means...... but realizes what he says and blames you for turning him into a fool. Another downside for him is that he won't take his words back in fear of you getting the wrong idea.

you're just a bully that he hopes will forget about the embarrassing words he blurted out.

hes simultaneously reeling and embarrassed. is this what happens when you make your love upset? does that imply he's your love?!

#noritoshi #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi kamo #noritoshi x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #heh #coughs out blood #FAM THIS ALL INDOCTRINATION SUCCESS #NORITOSHI OBSESSIONS ARE SO FUCKING FR HERE #IM JUST PUTTING WTV WAS IN MY MIND ONTO PAPER RIGHT HERE..#i imagine he likes the thought of you being obsessed with him bc that implies your attention is always on him #Meaning that you wont leave him. that youll stay at his side just like he'll stay by yours.#if you're more obsessive over him. he'll slowly worsen to be just as if not more into you..#like to the point of feeling his own stomach tying itself in knots when youre not in the same room as him #ohh.. and the feeling is horrendous if youre ever upset with him.. even the slightest bit upset.#he just wants be loved by someone who he can call his own and hes willing to go through great lengths for that.#<- pushing puppy boy noritoshi agenda #but thats enough of me talking of yan noritoshi. tysm I'll be here for the rest of the month #AND NOTICE HOW HE LOVES COFFEE BUT DITCHED IT THE SECOND IT TURNED TO YOU BC YOURE MORE IMPORTANT TO HIM THAN SOME FUCKING DRINKGNFNKFKVKV #suiana

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livelovecaliforniadreams · 11 months

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#succession #successionedit #im not crying you are #my heart #gerri x roman #gerri kellman #roman x gerri #romangerri #gerriroman #roman roy #j smith cameron #kieran culkin #Religion #gifs #gifset #4x10

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romansmartini · 1 month

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ideal ship dynamic: guy who’s the most mentally unstable person you’ve ever heard of in your entire life x guy who wants to bang them so bad it has them saying things like “nothing wrong with that guy. they’re completely normal and sane”

#jillian.txt #many such cases. i will list the ones i can think of #succession #kenstewy #better call saul #disco elysium #kimharry #hannibal #a LITTLE. this is where it starts to get tricky #kenstewy also almost doesn’t count either but idgaf #the x files #again vince gilligan i know what you are #and you know who else.#loustat #interview with the vampire #you do get to a certain point i think where both of them are so crazy it no longer applies and i’m playing fast and loose with my own rules #but anyway. in some ways just trust me bro #doctor who #<- many such cases there as well

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irlplasticlamb · 10 months

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i wanna be your dog.

prints + merch + commission info

i got commissioned to create this gerri + roman + jeryd piece by the amazing @vanillabeanmachine and you can’t even imagine the kind of doors this concept opened in me! thank you!!

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ladysansalannister · 1 year

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#romangerri #roman roy #gerri kellman #roman x gerri #succession #everything everywhere all at once #kieran culkin #j smith cameron #made by me #but how does it serve my interests?#i could’ve got you there #1k

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

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…i would like to request a Stewy Hosseini smut with the prompt "You like it when I'm mean to you?"

Needy.

24. "You like it when I'm mean to you?" + 33. "Been thinking about you all day."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. i've had so many stewy requests, oh my. i love writing this gorgeous man!! think i got a little feral creating this one. combined two requests here!!

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! cursing. mean stewy needs his own warning too.

Word Count - 1028

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

The minute he steps foot in the front door, you're on him.

He's all you've thought about all day. His big hands, rough palms, long fingers. His broad chest, strong shoulders, muscular back. His calculating eyes, soft beard, clever mouth. He's indoctrinated your thoughts. He's positively ruined you.

You're convinced you've spent hours today just staring into space, dreaming about him. What is he doing right now? Is he thinking of me too? Is he replaying the events of last night in his head just like I am?

You're surprised you've lasted all day. At one point, you were ready to put on your shoes and march over to his office, demanding that he take you right there and then. Instead, you rewatched the videos you'd filmed together, and allowed your blood to run hot with anticipation. You vowed you weren't even going to let him take off his coat before you jumped him.

He steps through the door and you're lunging at him, smashing your lips to his with vigour. He's slightly taken aback, almost stumbling, before he grabs your hips and steadies you both. You're whining into his mouth, pressing yourself against him as if you haven't seen him for 8 months rather than 8 hours.

"Hello to you too, honey," he chuckles against your lips. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

You can't answer him coherently. All you can focus on is the way he smells, his scent enveloping you and making you crazy.

You simply whinge in response, pawing at his jacket to try and get it off. You push it from his shoulders, and immediately work on unbuttoning his shirt.

"Look at you, pretty girl," he coos. "Always so desperate for me, aren't you?"

You're nodding frantically, going insane because your hands are shaking with need and you can't get his shirt off. You want to feel his warm skin, the hair that covers his chest, the way his muscles tense beneath your fingers. You need him more than you need to breathe.

"You want me to help you?" he teases condescendingly. "Has my baby gone so stupid she can't even get my shirt off?"

Stewy is mean. Plain and simple. Sure, he's soft with you. His tender, sweet, loving side is reserved for you and you only. Kisses on the forehead, opening doors, always holding your umbrella in the rain. He's a sweetheart in everyday life. But when he's riled up, when arousal replaces the blood running through his veins? He's ruthless.

You're panting, vibrating with need. You abandon his shirt and decide to pull your underwear down and off, shoving them into the pocket of his trousers. You pull your shirt over your head, allowing him to take in the sight of your heaving chest. He licks his lips, and places his hands on your waist.

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

His tone is so sickly sweet, it almost makes your blood run cold. You love it when he gets like this - patronising and cruel. It gives you a glimpse of business Stewy, the Stewy that everyone else sees.

"You," you finally sputter. "You, Stewy, need you."

"You've got me, baby. I'm right here, aren't I?" he's teasing you mercilessly, reveling in seeing you so needy.

"Please. Wanted you all day. Been thinking about you all day. Please."

He laughs at you, and it sends a shudder straight down your spine. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

He gives in slightly, and moves his hand between your legs. When he feels how you're dripping down your thighs, he groans, deep and gutteral.

"Oh, honey," he sneers. "This is kinda pathetic. Haven't even touched you and you're soaked."

His tone makes your knees buckle. He spins you so you're the one pressed against the wall, and grabs you by the thighs to pick you up. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your slick soaking the material of his dress pants.

"Use your words, pretty girl. Tell me what you want."

You buck your hips, attempting to find some friction. Stewy grabs your ass and stills you, holding you so you can't move.

"Fuck me, please. Please, please, please, please."

He's never been able to resist you when you beg. In one fluid movement, he's unbuttoned his pants and slid home inside you, filling you up the way you've been imagining all day.

He cants his hips upwards, setting a steady rhythm. He watches your face carefully, never taking his eyes off you. All you can hear is the sound of skin on skin, and the way the two of you are panting. He brushes a certain spot inside you, and the moan you release is borderline pornographic.

"Yeah? Right there, honey?" he teases.

When you don't reply, he slows the movement of his hips, coming to a complete stop.

"Answer me when I ask you a question. Have you gone stupid, baby, is that it? Have I made you dumb?"

You whine in response, but he keeps mocking you, condescension dripping from his tone.

"My dumb baby. My pretty, stupid girl."

You clench around him at his words, the insults just turning you on more.

"Oh, honey. You like it when I'm mean to you?"

Miraculously, you find your voice.

"Yes, fuck. Yes. I love it, Stewy."

You're practically crying, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks if he doesn't start moving again.

"And so she speaks. Good girl. That's all I wanted."

He thrusts up into you again, harder and faster this time. It doesn't take long before you're tightening around him, throwing your head back against the wall as you reach your high. You're whining his name, and it sends him over the edge with you.

You both stay connected, sweaty foreheads pressed together as you take heaving breaths in and out. Suddenly, you start giggling.

"What?" he asks curiously. "What's so funny, huh?"

"Just thinking about how you're kind of a sadist," you tease.

"And yet you love me anyway," he retorts, grinning as he kisses you.

"I do," you reply. "So much."

stewy tag list -

@616wilsons

@isuspectitwasthenargles

@justacaliforniandreamer

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hadassah4ever · 10 months

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the three times they wished they kissed you, and the time you finally did (igby slocumb, greg hirsch)

warnings: alcohol use, sex mentions (no actual sex), reader being decently obvious, nothing too crazy, mild mild hurt/comfort

authors note: mother bird has come to feed you some regurgitated worms. i was going to add roman or tom in here, but i was already taking so long to finish the igby part, and i’m scared of making them ooc. enjoy tho. <3 (it’s 3 am and im barely awake. 💀)

word count: 3k

playlist (if you’d like): romanticizing my delusionship— https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6rLX5L9fLuEWueJz6lVaem?si=6gPlbG7LRLKd6aq_eNfp1g

igby slocumb

number one

Settling in was harder than Igby thought. He really didn’t think about how moving across the country with no roots in that area, or really anywhere, would affect him emotionally, but at least he was in California. A benign concept to his still frazzled brain, but he tried his hardest to block out any negative emotion, he got what he wanted, and that’s really all that mattered to him.

He found himself getting attached to strangers he thought were interesting due to the scenarios he made up in his head, and you weren’t safe from that. He first saw you studying in a cafe he frequented. Deducing the fact that you were probably only in there due to the fact that it was a particularly hot and humid day, and you were clearly studying for something considering the textbook sprawled in front of you, and by the fact that you were going over old notes.

His eyes grazed your facial features, but certainly for too long, as you moved your eyes from your notes to the young guy staring at you from across the cafe, he casually glanced away, but it was obvious he was just doing it just to avoid a staring contest with a random girl about 25 feet away from him. You quietly chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his staring problem, eventually he got sucked back into making eye contact with you, your eyes darting down to the empty chair in front of you, then back to him. Beckoning him with just your eyes.

It’s not every day he was asked to sit down with cute people at cafés, so maybe he’d seize this opportunity to get to know you.

number two

Neither of you were truly used to such mild autumn temperatures, being from different parts of the country. The fact that you moved from the more northeastern part of the states made him cling onto you even harder, you knew what it was like to pack up and leave everything behind, and he respected you even more for that.

“So, how’s college going?” He asked, not really knowing what else to talk about as you walked beside each other.

“Ew, small talk? Seriously, Igby, I thought you were better than that.” You spoke, playfully. “But, yeah, pretty boring. Can’t complain, though, considering I literally signed myself up for it.” You added. The dry, crunching leaves serving as white noise.

“I don’t really know what else to talk about. I’m not going to rant to you about… fucking… Kafka, like your little college boyfriends.” He replied, playing up his annoyance for laughs. “No, my college boyfriends talk about Dostoyevsky.” You joked back.

The way you two clicked was different, and also something he wasn’t used to, unlike anyone else who came before you, your chemistry was different, it was better. It was effortless.

“Have you made any new friends?” You asked. “Why do you care?” He retorted, not used to actually being cared about. “Because I can’t be your only friend. Sometimes I’m concerned for your social well-being.” You shrugged. “Although from your reaction, it’s safe to say no.” You glanced over to him and saw as he playfully rolled his eyes in defeat.

You really got him there. You really were his only friend, even though he truly wished you were more.

number three

As college picked up, you couldn’t help but wonder if there’s a life outside of California that would be worth pursuing. After you graduated, of course. It was still probably a mistake to bring it up so casually, you invited him over to have a relaxing night with a good friend. Instead you watched as his eyes slightly widened and his lips slightly curled into a frown.

“What? I— Where do you even wanna go?” Igby asked, clearly getting defensive, if you truly put two and two together, maybe you’d know truly how much he liked you. “Texas, maybe. Possibly Arizona.” You replied, pretending to think about it in the moment, but truthfully it was consuming your mind most of the time. “Who do you think you are? You wanna make out with a cowboy or something? What’s even over there? Tumbleweeds?” He bombarded you with questions, making it sound like he made California.

You inhaled slowly, to keep yourself from getting too angry at him. “I just really don’t know if California is my forever state. God forbid I try something new.” His simple offended demeanour swapped for a somewhat agitated one, “It’s not about that, it’s the fact that you’re so willing to leave me behind, you know you’re my only friend.”.

“Number one, I’d only leave after I graduate, and number two, whose fault is that? I’ve spoken endlessly about how you need to get some more friends and guess who didn’t follow my advice?” You ranted, irritation taking over your voice. Igby was left speechless, words escaping him aside from: “I’m leaving.”

He would be lying if he said you didn’t look hot while angry, but maybe that didn’t matter much anymore.

number four

You didn’t know if you wanted to be able to completely forget about Igby or have the lack of stubbornness to be able to go and apologise yourself. In reality, you had neither. Which is why you ran to pick up your phone when it began to ring, and how you ended up at his apartment door at 2AM with your tail between your legs.

When he heard you knock, he immediately opened the door, he was clearly standing right behind it, waiting for you. His gaze was fixed on the floor, it was odd to see the boy who was so snide and cynical look like a kicked puppy all of a sudden.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry.” He spoke in a voice that made you sure he’d been crying. “You know I can’t stay mad at you either. But I really shouldn’t have said some of that stuff, either.” You slowly began to move towards him, asking him if you could hug him without verbalising it, eventually you ended up with your arms wrapped around him. “You’re very likeable, and I don’t know how people don’t cling to your side and beg to be your friend.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds, just taking in the warmth of your arms and basically basking in it. He used his socked foot to close the door behind you, in preparation for what he was about to admit to.

“I— you probably know why I said that stuff though.” He basically muttered, you didn’t answer in embarrassment, feeling like you should know. “Fuck, I… think I love you.” He spoke, a bit nervous to actually speak the three words he was essentially waiting to drop on you.

You didn’t even hesitate on pressing your lips to his, the kiss was magical, like how they described in the romance novels that made middle aged women swoon, it was abstract. Like warm hospital blankets, like rain in the evening, it was domestic and comfortable.

He attempted to slide his hand up your shirt, knowing what he was trying to do, you redirected it to your waist, the rejection not embarrassing Igby too much. He almost respected you for it more, you could be intimate without sex, and that’s truly what he needed at that moment.

Tender and warm, you two were utterly entranced with the kind of young love that elderly ladies comment about, and maybe Texas didn’t matter to you much anymore.

greg hirsch

number one

You found yourself sitting outside of the venue for the latest Waystar party, right on the last step of one of the staircases outside, the air was wet which signalled the fact that it was most likely going to rain soon. You heard the small taps of dress shoes behind you, getting closer.

“Uh— are you o-okay?” Greg spoke, you didn’t even turn around. Greg was a mere work acquaintance, someone you swore you would try and talk to more, but never really ended up doing so. He seemed kind enough from the brief interactions you had, though, so you really didn’t mind him speaking to you while you were trying to escape the party atmosphere, at least for a few minutes.

“Yeah. Just needed some space.” You replied. A small, awkward silence fell between you as the chatter from the party continued behind you two. “W-Would it be… Could I join you?” He asked, trying to sound confident.

You glanced up at him, a soft look in your eyes, but the rest of your face didn’t portray much. “Yeah.” You answered, voice getting slightly higher in an attempt to sound as non aggressive as possible. He awkwardly smiled and nodded, moving down to sit beside you. His long legs were almost against his chest, in an attempt to copy how you sat, you watched in silent amusement as he tried to move around and get comfortable, before inevitably just letting his legs just rest in front of himself, completely straight like toothpicks.

“Sorry if I’m intruding or anything.” He said, more so out of muscle memory politeness than actually apologising. “Out of all the people who could’ve possibly come and sat down next to me, I think you’re the one I hate the least. Don’t apologise.” You told him in a slightly monotone and tired, yet genuine tone.

He felt a light blush overtake his cheeks and his brain stopped functioning for a second, he was searching for any possible words he could string together to charm you like you just unintentionally did to him, but nothing came, he just stared at you like a scared puppy and let out a “Thank you.” that bordered on being muttered.

You didn’t really speak much on the steps, but there was a mutual sense that you didn’t really have to.

number two

“Er— y/n?” You heard Greg say behind you, you softly swung your desk chair around to look at him. “Do you wanna like… Come over after work? I’ve got a uh— bottle of wine and yeah.” The end of his sentence didn’t really sound like the end, sounding more like he just ran out of words. You nodded and gently smiled. “I’d love to, Greg.”

———

You knew that as soon as he uncorked the bottle it was never going to just be one glass. That was kinda just how wine worked, and at this point, you were tipsy enough to have no filter, but not enough to be full blown drunk, which meant you were both opening up about every little thing in your life like it was the end of the world. After a particularly deep question, you didn’t really know if there was much else to talk about.

Greg spoke up, trying to keep the conversation going anyway. “So… what do you think of like, ATN and st—“ “Could we save that kind of talk for the office? Not to be rude or anything.” You interrupted, Greg completely stopped and nodded. “I— yeah, yeah.” His voice got higher to show his non-confrontational-ness. “Sorry. I just swear I get a migraine when I remember what the company I work for actually stands for.” You joked, trying to cut the tension. “No, no. I understand.” He replied through an awkward chuckle.

There was a silence that was reminiscent of the night on the stairs but much more awkward. Greg took another chance to speak with you, “Have you, y’know… been in any relationships recently?” He asked, a realisation set in for you, the tone in his voice wasn’t casual enough. He liked you.

“Mmm…” You pressed your lips together and looked up in thought. “Nothing too recent, clearly. Dating in New York is weird.” You answered and looked at him to signal his response. “Yeah. Same. At least not lik—L-long term.” He rushed out, trying to lean back slightly on his sofa and look confident and suave, clearly you saw through it, though. The stutter not helping his case.

“Not gonna lie, that’s a bit odd to me. In my mind you seem like the kind of guy to either have a pretty decent girlfriend.” You stopped yourself from saying the last bit, but it ended up flowing out anyway. “Or fuck Tom. But either way you seem… Dateable. Compared to some of the people I’ve met here, at least.” You shrugged, feeling some of your own awkwardness come out of hiding.

He didn’t really know how to reply to that, he glanced down from your eyes to your lips then back at your eyes. He was feeling kind of lightheaded, your lips just looked too kissable, a thought which he knew wasn’t sparked from the alcohol, it was lingering on his brain for a while, fantasies about taking you out on a date and kissing you afterwards like a proper gentleman ran through his mind for most of the day, which was embarrassing to admit.

“Yeah cool, uh— you too!” He chuckled nervously, getting slightly sobered up by his own adrenaline. You just smiled and softly nodded, Greg felt something impending which never came to fruition. Your smile was like the whooshing of a guillotine through the air to him, he assumed it was you preparing to lean over and press your lips to his.

He was wrong about that.

number three

It was raining and you’d completely forgotten your umbrella like the idiot you are. It wasn’t just a tolerable drizzle, it was essentially pouring, Greg saw this as his opportunity to be in his own cheesy rom-com and offer to walk you home. Much to his surprise, you accepted. He really thought you’d just get a ride from one of your friends or get an Uber, but his heart definitely skipped a beat when you accepted.

His heart continued to skip beats when your shoulder would brush against his arm, he felt weird. He felt creepy feeling this way, but he really couldn’t change it. It was mostly silent aside from the occasional comment on how hard it was raining. You two knew how much you wanted to kiss each other, it was almost like if you tried to hold a normal conversation, you’d black out and wake up married to him with 2 kids in a typical suburban life.

His rom-com idea was cut short with you arriving at the front of your apartment. He didn’t even know if he could say goodbye without feeling a small ache in every inch of his body, but he did anyway. He stood looking into the glass of the front doors as you walked away, maybe you didn’t really like him in that sense. The only time you really showed clear interest in him was after 4 glasses of wine.

number four

You didn’t really know what you did to fuck up. Yeah, you two didn’t make out on the front steps to the entrance of your apartment, but you didn’t really know if that was grounds to stop talking to you. Honestly, you didn’t really know what to feel, so you defaulted to feeling pissed off at him.

Did you have a reason? Yeah. Kind of. Sorta. A little. Maybe.

In reality, Greg didn’t know what to say about that night. Was he supposed to apologise? Were you supposed to apologise? Did either of you have to? He had no idea. The need to kiss you was overwhelming at this point, if he saw a genie and only had one wish, kissing you would be the wish that rolled off his tongue in milliseconds. On the other hand, you were confused. Not really putting in any thought to thinking about what you actually wanted, you decided on closure.

The idea of your apartments being on the path to each other felt like divine intervention, but dear god was it hard to keep up with that lanky ass man.

“Greg.” You projected. Not necessarily a shout, but loud enough where he could hear you, you had very few people around so that was a plus too. His body completely took over and he immediately stopped and turned around to see you borderline running to catch up with him.

He didn’t know if he should’ve turned back around or stayed, but it felt like he was being weighed down, his feet completely anchored to the sidewalk and he watched you with a sympathetic and anxious look as you finally reached him.

“Fuck. I really didn’t plan what I was going to say. What did I do to you? You’ve been avoiding me like I fucking— killed your mom or something!” The frustration that came out shocked you, but you still spoke at a reasonable volume. “I— honestly, I don’t know.” He answered, realising he didn’t know why he stopped talking to you, cold turkey.

“I think that’s the worst part… I— do you even like me?” His voice had both an anger and sadness oozing out of it. “Of course I like you—.” You replied. “No, you know in what capacity I’m talking about. You don’t know how much you fucking affect me, y/n, just…” He trailed off, his typical anxious stutter gone.

You held the signature somewhat awkward pause that always graced your conversations and nodded. “You’re right. I know what you mean. And if you don’t fucking kiss me right now I’m going to go insa—“ He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he dove down and pushed his lips against yours in a very new display of confidence. His kisses weren’t very skilled, but fulfilling nonetheless.

He pulled back and looked down at you, your lips slightly rosier and held a look of ‘did I just fuck up?’ in his eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He spoke, his breathing heavy and quick, slowing down when he remembered you asked him to kiss you, and when he saw your extremely happy smile.

“Don’t you dare apologise, Greg. Kiss me again.” You chuckled, cheeks slightly pink and your voice filled with a lightness that eased him. You didn’t have to ask him twice and he bent over, much more gently, and kissed you again.

Jesus, he could do that all day.

#succession x you #succession x reader #succession x y/n #greg hirsch x reader #greg hirsch x you #igby slocumb x reader #igby goes down

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ichorai · 9 months

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hell, yeah ; series masterlist.

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

main masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

chapter seven coming soon!

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy smut #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman x reader #succession roman #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

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dollsome-does-tumblr · 1 year

Photo

But no. Nope.

#sexy s3 poster you will always be famous!!!!!!#roman x gerri #romangerri #successionedit #succession #mine

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strang3lov3 · 24 days

Text

Invisible Line

Summary- Boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Roman Roy x F!Reader | 5.8k words

Tags- one bed trope mothafuckas!! mutual masturbation, unprotected piv, cream pie, oral (f receiving), come eating, dirty talk, soft dom!roman, power imbalance, needy and desperate reader, light degradation, manipulative Roman, Roman’s not the nicest but he does let you snuggle him

A/N- This is my first Roman Roy fic, so please be gentle 🫣 I know he’s got his issues with sex, so just play pretend with me. My usual Joel readers, I haven’t forgotten about you, he’s cumming soon 🫡🍆 but if you were feeling so inclined I’d appreciate it if you gave Roman a chance 🥺🩷

I had a fucking team of editors for this fic!! Thank you thank you thank you @noxturnalpascal, @papipascalispunk, @beefrobeefcal and @pinkypromisepascal for polishing this baby up

Fic notifs, Masterlist, Ko-Fi

You’ll never get used to the type of hotels you now stay in. All the lights glittering, floors shining, ceilings so high. You’d call it luxurious, but to your boss, Roman, this is considered modest. You’re always reminded that you and he come from two very different worlds.

As his assistant, you’re accompanying him on his “bullshit amusement park safety meeting in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere,” as Roman had so graciously put it. He’s got such a way with words. He’s exaggerating of course, always so hyperbolic. You’re not in the middle of nowhere, you’re in Nashville, Tennessee. It’s early June and the air is finally beginning to cool for the evening.

“We’re fully booked,” the receptionist says to you after first explaining that no, there’s no mix up of sorts, you had only booked one room and not two adjoining rooms like you’d thought.

Just fifteen minutes earlier, you helped Roman with his bags and such up to his room. Roman carried the heaviest of his own bags to be a gentleman, call it his soft spot for you or whatever, but just to be a dick, still had you carry his briefcase that he was more than capable of carrying on his own. It is your job, after all.

When you arrived with him to the spacious room, decorated with abstract wall art and odd sculptures, Roman wasted no time in flopping on the single king sized bed. After seeing no door to connect to an adjoining room, Roman sent you back to reception. “Well, better figure it out,” he said, waving you away, his eyes never once looking away from his phone screen. “I’m set here, so thanks. You can go fuck off. Have a nice evening and all that. Enjoy masturbating in your crispy white bed sheets, courtesy of Hyatt hospitality.” Always so vulgar. You’re not shocked by it anymore.

“Nothing?” you ask the receptionist. “There’s no way. I just need a single queen, I don’t care what floor it’s on. Isn’t there something?”

“Bonnaroo,” the receptionist explains, once more typing on her keyboard to double check and see if there’s a room for you. “Yeah, I’m sorry, we don’t have any other rooms available. Bonnaroo weekend is always when we’re busiest. People book months in advance. I wish I could help you,” she frowns apologetically.

You’re not upset. It’s your own fault. And you’d seen Bonnaroo posters around the lobby advertising the shuttle that transports people from the hotel to the festival. And you’d seen the headliners, too. Radiohead, Red Hot Chili Peppers, LCD Soundsystem. Friday and Saturday tickets are sold out. You’re not surprised it’s all booked.

“No, I know,” you reply. “It’s my fault.”

You sigh deeply, and the receptionist types into her computer, prints a piece of paper and hands it to you. “This is a list of hotels nearby. Call around, they might have something.” She wishes you good luck, and you pull out your phone to begin making the calls, only then realizing your battery is at 2%. Now you have nowhere to go but back to Roman’s room.

–

You knock on Roman’s door and wait. Nothing. You knock once more, nothing again. You’re about to knock for a third time when Roman finally opens, his shirt a few buttons undone and his belt loosened. “What do you want?”

“Can you let me in?” you ask, “I need to use your phone, please.”

Roman’s taken some getting used to. You never quite know where you stand with him, what exactly he thinks of you. Moment to moment, you never know which Roman you’re gonna get – the flirting Roman, the occasional sweet and tender Roman, or the cold, sarcastic, uncaring and taunting Roman.

“Can you let me in?” Roman mocks, opening his door wider and guiding you into his room with his hand on your lower back. Taunting Roman. His touch makes your tummy flutter. Something about his unpredictability thrills you, excites you. You’re attracted to it, and you don’t know why.

Your phone charges by a nearby outlet as you sit at the desk with the room phone as Roman paces around, rifling through his suitcase to find his pajamas. They’re simple looking clothes, pale blue bottoms and a plain white shirt, but you know the cost of the outfit is equivalent to someone’s rent. He changes in front of you, something he’s always done. You’re not exactly sure why he does that or what he’s trying to do, but you do your best to not steal any glimpses of him as you begin calling the numbers on the paper, though the task proves to be difficult. Flirting Roman?

The first hotel on your list is The Hermitage, which is a bust. The Joseph is also a bust. Conrad Nashville, same deal. You’re keeping your voice as low as possible, hoping Roman doesn’t overhear your conversation. The last thing you want to do is give him more ammo. You sigh as you cross out the names on the paper one by one with one of the hotel’s branded pens.

Roman’s on the bed, smirking, rolling his eyes. You can see it in your peripherals. “You fucked up, didn’t you? Forgot to book yourself a room?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, now calling the fourth and final hotel on your list.

“You shut up,” Roman says. “Told you to double check.”

You wave a hand in his direction to quiet him. After asking your now three times rehearsed ‘Do you have any rooms available?’ and being met with an apology and a no, you reply to the person on the other end of the call with a “Yup, Bonnaroo, understood. Thank you.” Sighing, you hang up the phone and bury your face in your palms. You know what your only option is here, and you’re scared to look at it, to look at Roman. You know that even if you don’t verbally ask, your eyes will say it all.

Roman slides off the bed and makes his way to you, then nudges your foot with his own. “Am I doing you a favor tonight?”

“I uh…”

“Oh, of course I am. Good thing I’m feeling generous, huh?” Roman’s lips are curled into an almost-sweet smile when you finally look at him. “Bed is mine,” he enunciates. “You can take the floor, I don’t care. Or push those chairs together or some shit.” You look at the chairs he’s referring to and nod. Roman goes back to his bed, and you pull your own set of pajamas from your suitcase, then change in the bathroom. Once out of the bathroom, you push together the chairs that Roman was referring to.

“Oh god, I didn’t think you’d actually do that. No, no, I was just joking – we’ll share the fucking bed. Yeah?” Roman pats the other side of the bed. “I’m not cruel like that, Christ. Making me feel like some fuckin’ sort of - sort of sadist. Not gonna bite you.”

“Won’t you?” you tease.

That was the wrong thing to say. Your blood goes cold as Roman glares at you, displeased with your teasing. Reminding you of your place, that even though Roman can joke, make however many unsavory comments as he’d like, you can’t always do the same. Cold Roman. But then Roman cracks a smile, flashing his pretty white teeth and winks, his eyes sparkling. The boss-employee dynamic between you and him is always inconsistent, things going from professional to unprofessional, from friendly to friendlier.

He pulls the covers down the bed, once more patting the space next to him, indicating his invitation for you to join him. You round the bed and slide under the covers, the sheets feeling cool against your bare feet and legs. “You’ve got ulterior motives, don’t you? You fucked up the booking on purpose.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed. “No, Roman.”

“You totally did,” Roman says as you adjust the pillows behind you, “You’re trying to entrap me. You’ve weaseled your way into my bed so you can sue me later for harassment or some shit but I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen. Trust me when I say that it’s in your best interest to behave yourself.” Roman drags his finger down the center of the bed, bisecting it evenly. “Don’t cross this line. Not even your fuckin’…pinky finger. Got it?”

“Understood, Mr. Roy.”

“Attagirl,” he chirps. “Wait, ew. Jesus Christ, Roman, you call me Roman. Not that Mr. Roy shit. God, that’s gross.”

You’ll take any chance you can to get under his skin after all he does to you. Flipping over on your side, you face the window and watch the city lights dance before pulling out your phone and silently scrolling through Instagram. Roman does similar, though he doesn’t reciprocate the courtesy of doing so quietly. He watches videos at full volume, shaking the bed with his giggles.

You shift to your other side, now facing Roman, who lays on his back. Your phone rests on the bed as you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks. You don’t often see him look relaxed like how he does now – how sexy he looks in those thin pajamas of his, his biceps toned and his bulge protruding from beneath the fabric of his pants. His usually sleek hair is slightly messy, and you wonder how those silky strands would feel between your fingers as you tug on them, with him holding you close in a tight embrace and his lips connected to yours, swallowing your moans.

You tell yourself not to think about it, about him. Don’t think, don’t think, god, do not think about him. Don’t think about his thick bulge or his hands or their wrinkles, the bluish-green veins that climb up his knuckles. Don’t think about his waist, don’t think about his soft tummy, or the thin line of hair leading down his groin and beneath his pants.

Roman’s looking at you, wearing that sly, cocky grin of his, pleased with the knowledge of what he does to you. He shuts his phone off and turns off the light on his nightstand, the faint glow coming from the open curtains now the only light.

He doesn’t take long to drift into a slumber, though you do, still thinking of the things you shouldn’t be. Images of Roman still dance in your mind for hours, you watch the time go by when you check your phone’s lock screen. You hear his voice in your head, that two word instruction from him playing over like a broken record. Behave yourself. And god, you can fucking smell him. He smells clean, like he always does, with notes of Caroline Herrera’s Bad Boy filling your nostrils – a cologne with a truly obnoxious bottle and an even more obnoxious name. Roman picked it out one time you were with him while he was shopping, just to piss you off. You’ve never hated the smell, though, and you love it even more on his skin. But he smells like sweat too, just a bit. So masculine and slightly musky, you can almost taste him.

Your hand has moved on its own accord underneath your shirt and between your breasts. You’re not sure when it happened, but you become acutely aware of it when your knuckles brush against your nipple and you gasp.

Roman stirs in his sleep, but he’s dead to the world. And you’re good at keeping yourself quiet – at least you think you are.

You turn your head to look at Roman, pinching and twisting at your nipples. Alternating between soft and hard, gentle and rough touches. Roman’s got his arm draped over his head, his palm so close to you. You imagine it’s that hand, his hand, squeezing and groping the soft flesh of your breasts, pretending that tingling feeling when you drag your thumbs over your sensitive buds is his tongue, all hot and wet. You let yourself breathe, the quietest moans escaping your lips.

And then you let your fingers dip lower, your fingertips skating down your body, feeling your sides and the soft curve of your tummy, your hips. Your hand goes lower and lower, your thighs parting as you find your core but not moving your legs wide enough to cross Roman’s invisible line. Tracing your lips first, your fingers travel closer to where you need to feel them the most. You’re wet, so fucking wet as you press your middle finger against your hole, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit.

You shift in the bed, spreading your legs wider and now circling your clit with your middle and ring fingers, dipping them into your entrance once more to gather your arousal and drag it up through your folds. Massaging yourself, you still pretend it’s Roman’s hand as you take in that sweet feeling that’s quickly beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each circle of your fingertips on your clit, fighting yourself to keep your hips as still as can be.

Romans voice startles you. “For a second I wondered if we’re near a fuckin’... earthquake, or uh– fault line or something, but you’re just rubbing one out next to your boss. Wow. Do you always shake the bed this much when you masturbate?”

You gasp, “Roman.”

“Or just when you’re next to me?” You’re not really sure what the right move here is. You could pull your hand from under your pants, but Roman’s already caught you red handed. Leaving your hand between your thighs is not the right move either. “Funny,” he adds, “I thought we just had a conversation about behaving. Didn’t we?”

“I know, I–”

“I mean, you get brownie points for not crossing the line in the bed, I guess,” Roman lifts the covers of the bed, then reaches for your knee and gently pushes it back on your side of the bed. “But you are crossing all sorts of other lines. You must think you’re sneaky. I heard you moaning, you know,” he accuses. He mocks you then, all snark and derision as he lets out exaggerated and breathy moans you’re almost sure you weren’t making. Roman, oh, Roman! Yeah, right there, Roman, please…

“Are you trying to get yourself in trouble?” he asks as he reaches for your jaw with one of his hands, turning you to look at him. He pinches, fingertips digging into the softness of your cheeks. No hiding now. “Is that what gets you off?”

“No,” you stammer.

“Liar.”

The air feels thick and Roman’s hazel eyes are dark, inky black, perhaps from the lack of light or maybe, you think, his own arousal? No, probably not. He looks genuinely pissed and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes, his intense gaze making you squirm. But you can’t seem to look away, either. He allows a silence to hang heavily between you both as he stares at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite read. And that’s when you notice it – with the hand that’s not holding your jaw, he’s stroking his cock underneath his pants. You can see the bulge, the shifting of his hand.

“You’re touching yourself too,” you point out.

“Yeah, now I am. I’m a man. You made blood rush to my penis with your fucking moans and your Roman this and Roman that,” he huffs. Pulling down his pants and letting his cock spring free, he continues, “So my dick is hard. It should be your problem to deal with, but I’m bailing you out yet again. Always cleaning your— fuck,” he stutters, “Your messes.”

You have no clue what’s happening here. Roman lets go of his cock for a moment and he reaches for your arm, guiding you to start moving your hand once again. “Get it out of your system,” he says. “Go on. You didn’t have an issue fucking yourself next to me five minutes ago, did you?”

Cautiously, as with Roman you know full well that this could be a trap, you begin to move your hand with his guidance. “Yeah, good girl,” he whispers in a hushed, almost imperceptible tone, one that you probably weren’t supposed to hear. “God, I can’t believe you,” he says more clearly this time. “You better make it quick. We’re getting this over with, and we’re not looking at each other. Call it your punishment or something, just fuckin’— take care of yourself.”

Roman adjusts so he’s flat on his back and resumes stroking his cock. His eyes are screwed shut and you’re watching his chest rise and fall, fully breaking the rule he just set. But you can’t help yourself, he looks so gorgeous like this. His pubic hair is longer than you would have expected Roman to have, but gorgeous nonetheless. He’s not the longest but his head is wide and round, with thick veins climbing his shaft.

“You’re watching, you fucking creep,” he says in a breathy tone, his words slightly broken. He’s not looking at you, only at the ceiling above. “Breaking the rules. You have a hard time with that, don’t you? Look, I can follow rules. Why can’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

Roman rolls his eyes at that, then flips on his side to finally look at you. A flicker of what looks to be relief quickly washes over his features, but quickly disappears. He reaches for your shirt, hiking it up your torso and tugging – up, take it off. You do as he asks, taking off your top and exposing your breasts to the chill of the air in the hotel room.

“I hope you know that I’m not gonna touch you,” Roman says.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know you won’t, I just, I just…”

“Just what?” Roman asks, still stroking his cock. You take off the rest of your pajamas and adjust yourself slightly, then spread your legs wide, the invisible line be damned as your knees fall back toward your chest and you rub your swollen clit. God, how you need his fingers inside you. You’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, but it won’t satisfy you in the way you think Roman could. “Spit it out,” Roman demands.

Fuck it. You’ll deal with whatever consequences later. In the boldest of moves, you reach for the hand that strokes his cock and bring it to your pussy, guiding Roman’s middle and ring fingers to your entrance and pushing them inside.

Roman wears a twisted sort of smile as he curls his fingers inside you, now playing his own game with you. He taunted you with an accusation of ulterior motives, but it was all talk, like how most of Roman is. He suspected this before, but now he's certain: you have nothing but need for him. Amused by it, he’s now playing his game with you. As you moan for him he wonders, how much can he toy with you, drag this out? How much will you beg for him? Your hand is wrapped around his cock now by your own choice, he wonders how low will you sink, and how high will he feel by the end of whatever this is?

You’re inching closer to him. Desperate.

“Your hand is wrapped around my cock,” he whispers. “And you buried my fingers inside your cunt. Is something not clicking in that head of yours?”

“So good,” you breathe. You work his shaft, twisting your hand up and down. He’s thick, veiny, his head feels smooth in your palm. Roman’s touch is firm as removes your hand from his cock to hover it beneath your chin. “Spit,” he tells you. You’re so pliant, and do as you’re told, spitting into your own palm, Roman putting it back where he wants it. “Wow. I pull my cock out and you’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

All you do is nod.

“God you’re soaked. Are you always this soaked for me? Just walking around all day, panties fuckin’ ruined?”

“Sh– shut up.”

Oh, you’ve still got some bite left. Roman wonders how quickly he can make that diminish. “Poor thing, did I hit a nerve? You wanna fuck me that badly? Are you really that desperate for your boss?” You say nothing, just inch even closer to Roman now. You hook a leg over his hip, moving your cunt towards what you need most from him, slowly guiding him in your hand ever closer to your entrance and hoping he’ll remove his fingers from you and replace them with his cock. And thank god, he does it. He pushes your hand away, gripping his member and notching the tip in your entrance. Fucking finally.

But he only collects your wetness on his tip, then spreads it down his shaft. He pushes his pelvis forward, rubbing his cock against your hooded clit and making you shiver.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” he taunts, now dragging his cockhead down your dripping seam.

“Roman,” you whine.

“Roman,” he says, mimicking your whine, exaggerating how pathetic you sound. “Is that all you can say?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Just fuck me, Roman.”

“Yeah, I know. You know my name and how to nag me to fuck you. I get it. What you’re not getting is that I don’t care. It’s not gonna happen tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that… Just gonna fuckin’ play with you like this,” he hums, now pushing his cock up against your clit again, tapping you. “Yeah, you’re good. This is… this is good. I’ve been so bored recently, you know? Wonder what happens when I do this,” Roman stops tapping his head against your sensitive clit, now sliding himself left and right across your sex. He bites his bottom lip when you gasp and squirm.

“I wonder if I could make you come just doing this,” he muses, continuing to tease you. “I know I could. I could blow my load on your pussy right now and make you clean up a mess for once. Is that what you need? For me to show you what you’re meant for?”

Maybe, you think. Maybe not. You don’t know what you think. You need his cock. Roman pushes himself forward, fitting just his head into your hole again. And you think it’s coming, the fullness, the pressure, the ache and the stretch and the burn. He’s bent on his two prior rules, but compromise never comes. He doesn’t give in to you. Roman’s grinning, giggling to himself as he draws his hips backward, denying you. Watching how you struggle for him, how you whine and squirm and push your hips towards him. “Is it?” he asks.

“Fuck, is what?”

“Is that what you need?”

“Yeah, I need you to fuck me. Roman, please. Need it – need you inside.”

Roman pushes out an exhale somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “Oh, that’s funny. That’s not what I asked at all. Is listening really that hard for you? What do they call that, tunnel vision but for hearing. Tunnel hearing? I don’t think that’s right.”

“I’m sorry–”

“Google it for me.”

“Roman.”

“What the fuck do you think I hired you for? Google it. For me. Thanks.”

Roman lifts his dick again, rubbing it against your clit and then lining himself up again, all as you scramble for your phone and quickly open Safari. ‘Funnel visipn bur for hearin g’ is what you type, the combined sensations of Roman’s teasing and the too-bright screen making your task difficult. “Audi-auditory exclusion,” you manage to tell him.

“Lemme see it,” Roman takes your phone from your hand, squinting at the screen. “Auditory exclusion is a form of temporary loss of hearing occurring under high stress,” he reads in his phony serious tone, still teasing you, bumping into your clit and then notching himself at your entrance, again and again and again. Giving you just a taste of what you know he could offer you instead. He’s opening Wikipedia now. “Auditory exclusion happens as a result of the physiological effects of the acute stress response, specifically an increased heart rate.”

“Fuck me, Roman, fuck me, please, I’m begging, please, please…”

“Begging’s nice, good. Very good. Very cute. But uh–” Roman points to your phone, “I’m busy reading here, so maybe quiet down. I really don’t want to hear it,” he laughs breathlessly, but nothing about this is funny to you. You’re in tears now. Tears of anger, frustration, shock. Roman lines up with your slick hole, just as he’s done repeatedly before. He notices your tears, “My god, you’re crying for it. So desperate, aren’t you?” he mocks your pout, wiping away your tears. You tell him you need him. “Need me? What a strong word. Yeah, I know that you need me. Message clear. God, you repeat yourself a lot. Fucking annoying.”

Fuck this. Roman’s still on Wikipedia and down some rabbit-hole not even related to auditory exclusion. He’s stopped teasing you, his cock just resting, nestled at your entrance as he scrolls. And you take your chance.

You reach for his shoulders and flip yourself so you’re above him, then sink down on his cock. Roman’s startled but he moans as he disappears into you and you sigh, finally feeling that stretch of his cock you’ve been craving since you don’t even know when – long before tonight. Roman watches where your body connects to his, seemingly shocked. He scoffs. “Oh, fuck you.”

Roman pushes your body off of his, he’s small but stronger than he looks. He flips you on your tummy and his touch is harsh but just what you need when he finally grabs your hips, placing his palm between your shoulder blades and forcing your chest down to the mattress. He was somewhat gentle when he was teasing you before, but all of that is gone now, as he lines up with your entrance and slams his hips into you, rocking you forward. He pulls out almost all the way before doing it again, harder. So many noises. You – gushing on his cock, moaning, crying out for him. Roman – his thighs slapping against yours, his grunts and his curses and breathy groans. The bed creaking with each of his thrusts. Roman fills you up better than you could imagine – fucking perfectly –hitting your walls, that sweet spot inside you.

“So fucking wet for your boss. What’s that say about you, huh?”

Roman grips your hips tight – too tight. He’s denting his nails into your skin and it hurts, his thumbs are digging into your lower back. There’s no fluidity to his thrusts, no steady roll of his hips. Just Roman, parting your insides with the harsh rutting of his hips. His heavy balls swinging, bouncing against your clit, his soft tummy warm against your back.

He sets a steady rhythm, a rhythm for his pleasure alone. Fucking you seemingly in two, exactly how you want it. Of course you want it this way. He can hear it in your muffled whimpers and cries, he wonders if the sheets are stained under your face, soaked with your tears. Roman holds your waist, forcing you up with your back against his chest. “Fuck,” you cry, and Roman wraps a hand over your mouth, the other is groping your breasts. Not that he doesn’t love the sounds you’re making for him, he just wants to give you another reminder of who’s in charge here – of how this is gonna go down, according to Roman.

He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, his nose nudging your cheek. His mouth travels lower then, he bites at your neck where it meets your shoulders, the stubble on his cheeks scratching your skin. He’s sucking at your flesh hard enough to leave a mark – for what reason, he’s not entirely sure. To punish and to hurt you, humiliate you, maybe even mark you as his. It’s possessive and primal in essence, how the way you need him so fervently makes him feel powerful in a way he often does not. And you’re not helping your case at all, with your squirming and your whimpers only egging him on. You tried to take what you need from him, but he’ll drill into your head that you’ll only receive what he’s willing to give to you.

He wonders what comes after this. If you’ll turn on your side in bed, leaking with his come and hiding yourself from him, or if maybe you’ll cling to him instead. He knows that he’ll lay next to you after this and wonder what you’ll be like for the rest of this trip. Will you be shyer, about the same as usual, or maybe even bold? He’ll experiment with you, see how you react to a cold shoulder or a shower of attention. See what you’ll do when he squeezes your ass, or when sitting next to him in the car, the helicopter, or at dinner when his hand finds your thigh and inches closer to your sex. Will you lean into it? Will you squirm and push his hand away?

His hands travel along your sides and down your torso, he can tell you’re loving his touch. You’re shameless in your reaction to him, your pussy squeezing him, your wanton moans. Curious, Roman reaches for your clit just to see how you’ll respond. He teases you, tries to write his name with his fingertips into you. Lewd sounds of skin slapping skin, the obscenity of your pussy’s slick noises. He’s not going to last much longer, that is quite clear.

He doesn’t care to try to make you finish first, as a gentleman should, although Roman nor anyone else would describe himself as such. You’re on his time. He knows how desperate you are to come, but he doesn’t care. He’ll get his first, something he doesn’t often get otherwise. And so his pace quickens, still biting and nipping at the flesh of your neck and shoulders. He bets that in all those late-night fantasies of yours about this moment, touching yourself in the dark, you didn't picture him being a biter. This much is evident with your pussy clenching on him and your short gasps showing your surprise.

He savors that feeling in every inch of himself – the power he holds knowing you’re aching not only to come on his cock, but to feel his touch, to experience him. It’s still just a game to Roman. Maybe it’ll always be a game. He’s not sure yet.

His cock twitches inside you, that warm and sticky feeling in his balls is beginning to crescendo. “I need to come,” you beg. “Roman, please make me come, I need-.”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” Roman fucks you with frenzied thrusts, and he doesn’t pull out to stroke himself above you, doesn’t ask you if you’re on the pill or if you want him to come on your ass or your tits or in your mouth. Roman shamelessly lets himself go and fills you with his hot spend. His noises are like music as he comes inside you, melodic grunts and moans coming from deep within him. And you take it all, everything he gives you because that’s what you’re meant for.

Roman takes heaving breaths above you, pulling out and his spend spills onto the comforter. He doesn’t give a shit. And as you collapse down onto your hands and knees you think that’s that, that he really doesn’t care. That all of this was probably about Roman savoring the feeling of having control over another person, and that dangling pleasure over her head is how he’ll get it.

Roman climbs off the bed and you’re trembling. He flips you onto your back, pulls you forward by your legs so that your sex is centered with his face as he kneels at the edge of the bed. His mind has changed quickly – first he wanted to know what would happen if he didn’t make you come. He thought next about eating you out from behind, denying you connection as he tastes you, buries himself in your most intimate place. But you’ve done well for him, and it’s clear that you’ll take what he gives you at any cost. Roman watches you with hooded eyelids, offering you that connection as he brings his face to your center, licking a thick stripe up your cunt. Call it his soft spot.

“Don’t say I don’t do anything for you.”

Roman dives back into you, and you hesitate before reaching for his scalp. Tentatively, you do it anyway, just to see if he’ll react. He might smack your hands away, maybe he’ll place them down on the bed. You’re sure he won’t hold them.

He lets your hands linger. Your fingers tug on those sleek strands of hair as he eats you, his scruff chafing your thighs. His eyes alternate between fluttering shut and peering up at you as dips his tongue into your entrance, licking his spend from your folds. He brings a hand to your cunt, two of his fingers pushing into your heat as his tongue dances circles around your clit. He’ll never tell you how sweet you taste on his lips.

“Yes, oh god, Roman.” He’s kissing your cunt, lapping at your folds, his tongue teasing all of that sensitive flesh. His fingers curl inside you at the same time he sucks your clit between his lips, making you writhe for him. “Right there, Roman.”

You’re not sure if he’s indulging himself or you at this moment. He eats you like a man starved, he eats you like it's his artwork. Nipping at your folds, his fingers inside you never once faltering their movements. You grind against his mouth as his tongue flicks and swirls. After all that’s taken place tonight, it doesn’t take you long to come. You bite down on your moans as pleasure washes over you, and you come on Roman’s tongue, gushing into the palm of his hand. When he’s ensured that he’s milked you entirely, he pulls away and takes his place back on his side of the invisible line.

Roman had wondered if - once in bed - would you cling to him or turn away, but he doesn’t allow you that choice. Instead, he takes your wrist between his fingers as he turns away, curling on his side, effectively wrapping your body to spoon around his. He keeps your arm secured firm under his, tucked around his torso. Tender Roman. You’re on edge, he’s been relatively quiet this whole time, and you’re expecting some snarky comment or a vulgar insult. “I swear to god, I will smother you with my fucking pillow if you snore,” is all he says. His threat, albeit baseless, comforts you.

Tagging some folks I think may be interested? I posted a few weeks ago about writing Roman and he’s finally here!Those of you that engaged with that post plus some other friends, I hope you check this out. If you want me to remove your tag, lmk 🩷 @ievutebebe @notjustjavierpena @dorims @molt3ngold @sweetenerobert @tightjeansjavi @i-smoke-chapstick @w73n @lilipads @annoyingtheoristcloud @meyelowe @I-ange-maudit @val1821 @ladygrey03 @mommymilkers0526 @motions1ckness @wellthisisjustridiculous @marytudorr @yangyangsbitch @trexwithwings-blog @ay3mily @brooklynb8by @cru3lfools @apocolyqse @foreverasleep717 @anyukadfasza @clocksonthewall79 @dumb--blonde @littlevenicebitch69 @mads198-9 @yazsos @smokietaylor

#roman roy smut #roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession fic #succession x reader #strang3lov3

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