As I’m unemployed and working on commissions, I have begun watching The X Files for the first time. I thought I would come out of it having a crush on Scully or even Mulder, and while Gillian Anderson has indeed bewitched me, I cannot deny my growing crush for Assistant Director Skinner 😭
I don't think Frank is the lingerie type. Sure his eyes would pop out of his head if you walked in the room in a sheer babydoll nightie but in a split second he'd be lifting it off you. Frank just wants to get at you. He wants you butt-ass naked. You could try all manner of crotchless this and g-string that and Frank would adore every one of them... for about 2.6 seconds. He's impatient and clothes are in the way. Because Frank wants flesh and musk and access to every inch. He can't be bothered with something getting in the way. He doesn't want his view hindered. He's the type of man that makes you feel extra naked somehow. You're not just nude, you're seen. He knows where the scars and freckles and dimples are. They're all you. He needs to know he's got his hands on you, specifically. If he had his way, every session would be with the lights on, twisting you however he damn well pleases-- even the way that makes you think your stomach looks fat or whatever. He's studying you like he's gonna be quizzed on it. What turns Frank on is your very human body. He wants to know what tickles you and what muscles are tight. He memorizes how you smell on your neck and between your breasts and between your legs. He's like a dog that would know how to sniff you out from a mile away. That's his girl and he'd take the time to know it intimately.
Reader and Frank accidentally getting exposed to some good old fashioned sex pollen via superhuman shenanigans (Reader was helping Matt with a case involving someone with poorly controlled pheromone powers causing a riot at work by accidentally making everyone mad)
They're both fine and don't feel anything and kind of laugh off the whole thing as they are getting in the car home. By the time they reach their shared apartment, Frank's shirt is missing all its buttons and Reader is trying to get them both naked as fast as possible because if Frank doesn't fuck them *now* they might actually lose their fucking mind. They barely stumble from the car and Frank practically has Reader over his shoulder as he sprints up the stairs two steps at a time and its a miracle they make it through the door of their apartment before becoming feral for each other
(They basically don't leave bed for two days, and spend a third too blissfully exhausted to even consider moving)
Uhhhhhh I'm dead? Ok so listen, I tend to write Frank out of canon and mostly in domestic situations so I don't think I'll write a whole "piece" on this but putting you over his shoulder and running up the steps??? Ma'am? Like I needed a minute after that.
I love imagining this animalistic feral desire--- you're literally achey, nearly in tears because it's close to pain and there is no one else that can make it remotely better -- it has to be Frank -- and he's racing the damn car home, his own desire making it painful to even sit still but Frank being Frank he's still just sooooo concerned that you're hurting and he's taking it on like a duty to get you home, up the steps, in the door and fucked until you can't walk straight.
And let's be real, you BARELY make it through the door. The second the door clicks shut Frank has peeled the shirt from your body, pushed the pants off your ass and quite literally ripped your panties off your body, all the while just murmuring, "Ssssh sweetheart, gonna make it better for you doll. S'not gonna hurt so bad, lemme help you honey." The first fuck is hurried and frantic-- just to make the ache go away -- and you're bent over the arm of the sofa and Frank and is pumping into you so hard the sofa is scooching across the hardwood floor but you can only manage to mumble, "more, please more, more Frankie," until the orgasm tears through you so violently that Frank stops his thrusts, even pulling out, to give you a moment to find your legs again, lightly dragging his fingers over your back and saying "that's is baby, deep breath, come on, breathe again."
You're foolish enough to think that one good fuck would overcome the sex pollen but only minutes after he's spent his seed in you and you're showering off, you feel it again, the ache so deep you can barely keep yourself upright. Frank hears you mumble, "fuck," from within the bathroom and he's beside you in 2 seconds flat, reassuring you "it's alright sweetheart, it's normal, we'll make it feel better," while he's lifting you from the shower and wrapping your legs around his waist, his cock already free from his pants as he guides it into your gushing core. The sensation is like a cataclysmic explosion and you sink your nails into his back as you grip him tightly and he fucks up into you, him holding you upright in the bathroom.
After you realize the pollen isn't letting up anytime soon, you spend actual hours in his lap, Frank sat on the couch with his cock filling you up, deciding it's better to stay like that and take care of you when you felt the ache. Minutes after finishing you'd slump limp onto his chest, panting, just waiting to feel the hardness of cock once again. It would grow steely in your core and you'd whimper awake, Frank cupping your face and murmuring in your ear "gonna fill you up again, ok honey? Gonna make it feel better," and he did.
oh so we’re getting socialist mad max. oh so they’re driving broken down motorcycles and giving out free hugs. oh so kimia is a bug. we’re eating good today
Okay sooo starting strong and maybe controversial but i think Kendall might umm cum kinda fast. But, even if did last a normal/good amount of time I think he would always be insecure that he finished too quickly.
Sooo because of that little insecurity I think he would always! try to go down on you after he came. Like, even if he just made you cum 3x on his dick he would still be like “come on baby just one more” as he's kissing your clit because he's just so worried about making you feel good!
Kendall being into toys just makes sense to me. Like he definitely would want to try handcuffs. Mostly on you, but I can see him wanting to be handcuffed while you suck his dick or ride him.
He would loveeee to hold a vibrator on your clit until you push him away or literal tears start falling and your screaming “Kendall please oh my god, I- cant-”
I think Kendalls main kink would just be trying to make you cum as much as he can! It would be so reassuring for him that even if he was a fuck up in other ways at least he could make you cum 5x in one night.
That would keep him going on hard days haha just picturing you waiting for him naked at home.
We ALL know Kendall would be a huge fan of car sex. Gently stroking and squeezing your thigh while you're on your way to some fancy event. Slowly inching his fingers higher, until he starts lightly brushing his fingers tips against your clit.
He wouldn’t even look at you while he teased you, keeping his focus straight ahead. Would probably do it while he was on the phone. Slowly making you come undone while he talked to Stewy or a possible new investor.
On the drive home he would purposefully make you moan as loud as possible. Secretly, hoping the driver could hear everything he was doing to you.
I think he would be into taking a shower together after you guys have sex. He just wants to hold you in his arms under the hot water for at least 20 minutes straight.
“Ken maybe we shouldn’t use all the hot water”
“Babe, I don't know if you know this but I’m fucking rich. I’ll have hot water flown in from fucking underwater volcanoes if it means i can hold you longer.”
Then he would wash every single part of your body so gently and soft with soap that probably costs the same as your rent in NYC. Definitely stopping to suck on your nipples, and squeeze your ass
Since a relationship with Kendall might be a bit on/off, make up sex might be a frequent occurrence. Sometimes it would feel like he was trying to start a fight just so you could have rough sex after.
But once you figured out his little game you started teasing him and not giving in so easily. At first Kendall was pissed. I mean, the poor man already feels so out of control in his life he at least liked getting to be dominant in the bedroom. However, that was until the first time you actually got him to beg to cum.
You were on top riding him and every time he got close to the edge you would stop.
“fuck baby don't stop I’m gonna cum”
as soon as he said that your hips halted. Teasing in his ear “aww baby did you wanna cum in me? Not yet” you did that 3x more times until eventually Kendalls eyes were rolling back and he couldn't stop himself from grabbing your hips and holding you while he fucked up into you, cumming sooo deep inside.
Ever since that moment occasionally he would let you take control but usually he was the dominate one
Kendall has fantasies of you waking him up with head, and would drop not so subtle hints about it. “Yeah, I think I could just increase my performance if I started everyday with like an orgasm”
His favorite thing in the world is to receive a random nude from you while he's at work but would want it to be kinda special. Like you have on fancy lingerie or you’re taking a bath. Something more than just a mirror pic, but he would gladly take that too!
My brain is just a montage of Radiohead Mitski Kendall edits right now, I could keep going forever!
Enjoy♡
Summary: Soft mornings with Kendall escalate to him making you squirt for the first time
Ashtrays full of cigarettes, half full champagne glasses, and last night's clothes were thrown across the floor. Ruins of the party that had ended only hours earlier, were illuminated as the orange sunrise flooded Kendalls high rise apartment. Mornings when Kendall could smell your vanilla perfume, hear your soft breaths, and reach over to find you seemed to have been making his entire life feel easier. He didn’t wake up in a panic thinking about mergers or acquisitions, everything was lighter.
Kendall leaned over, hovering above you as you slept on your stomach, tracing his fingertips lightly over your spine. He could have spent hours studying every part of your body. Caressing you, leaving light kisses on every freckle. You hummed lightly at the familiar feeling of Kendalls soft fingertips embracing you. He had a routine of waking you up by leaving light pecks from your shoulder, up your neck, and to your ear before whispering “Good morning” followed by an ever changing list of pet names. You would throw out a soft “morning love” before he was already getting up to get ready for the office.
However, today your boyfriend's touch lingered a little longer, and instead of his usual brief “good morning” he stopped to cuddle into you.
“Mm Ken, don’t you have to go into the office?” you murmured, leaning back into his touch. Moving yourself closer until your ass was perfectly situated against his slowly growing bulge.
“I have some time” he whispered. “You know, I would spend every morning like this if I could. Fuck Waystar, this is all i want.”
Ken had been increasingly more affectionate lately. Sending flowers to your apartment, scheduling surprise dates. He knew if things went well with taking over Mattson, Waystar would take over his life even more. Maybe even as sole CEO. Until then he was making sure to spend every second with you.
As you laid comfortably in Kendall's arms still half asleep, you couldn’t help the small sighs that began leaving your lips. Kendall trailing light kisses up your neck, his hands brushing softly from around your waist to the small mound above your pussy. You could feel his now painfully hard bulge grinding slowly into you. Your brain was silently begging for Kendall to move his fingers further down. However, he continued his almost innocent movement of rubbing soft circles and leaving light taps above your center. You turned your body towards Kendall, staring into his eyes briefly before moving to kiss him. Before you could catch his lips, his hand that was previously teasing you was softly cradling your face as Kendall brushed his thumb against your check. You watched his eyes flutter from yours to your mouth and back to meet your eyes again. Your heart aching with butterflies as he peppered your face with warm pecks, his morning stubble lightly scraping your chin.
Yours and Kendall’s lips finally met in a sloppy, half asleep kiss. His hand quickly returned to where it had been previously, this time pushing your thighs apart, and letting his fingers gently rest on your folds. Kendall could feel how soaked you were. Your pussy, already aching at the thought of his large cock stretching inside you. The light pressure and small circles he was rubbing into your clit, causing you to moan into his kiss.
“God, I love how you sound for me. Already so wet and ready for my cock.” He said as his fingers slowly began to spread your lips apart. He tapped lightly against your slit encouraging a small yelp from you as you moaned “Feels so good Ken.” He dragged your wetness from your slit up to your swollen clit in a long stripe before slowly dipping two fingers into you deeply. Giving you no time to adjust to the satisfying full feeling. Kendall sucked tenderly on your bottom lip as you attempted to kiss him back deeply. But with every movement it became more difficult to ignore the pleasant tension building in your pussy. He pumped his two fingers in steadily, curling them slightly as he dragged them back out, hitting the sensitive spot in your walls everytime. You couldn’t control your squirming as you began grinding your hips into Kendalls hand desperate to feel him deeper. He removed his fingers slowly from inside and you quickly whined at the loss of contact. He pushed himself up so that his back was against the headboard, swiftly dragging you with him so that he was holding you in his lap. You felt like his toy, and you loved it. Legs spread wide open, completely vulnerable to his touch.
His fingers eagerly returned to stroking inside your walls. The intensity at which he was pumping his fingers into you quickly increased, and everytime he curled his digits to make contact with the sensitive ridge inside your walls, the overwhelming sensation urged you to close your legs. His tight grip held your legs open, his free hand holding your face as he sweetly cooed in your ear “such a good girl. You look so pretty spread out for me.”
“Please Ken- don’t stop, don’t stop” you were so close, and you could feel your eyes rolling back into your head. The room filled with the sounds of your breathy moans, and the wet slap of kendall palm making contact with your clit drawing more liquid out of you and around his fingers.
“Yeah?” Kendall questioned “You want to cum baby? I want you to cum all over my fucking fingers.” His dick was straining painfully hard, pressed against your ass and he was fighting himself from roughly flipping you over and pounding into you until you begged for his cum. But he was loving watching your eyes roll back, seeing the sweat build on your forehead as you desperately pushed your hips forward into his hand. So needy for him.
“Omg, I’m- I’m gonna cum” you breathed out. Feeling you tighten and squirm against him, Kendall tightened his grip on your thighs pleading into your ear “cum for me baby. That’s it, good girl.” Your orgasm flooded your body harder than expected as you threw your head back into Kendall's chest, clenching around his fingers and screaming his name. “Shsh it's okay, it’s okay. I got you, pretty girl” Kendall hushed, leaving kisses on your forehead as you rode out your high.
When he finally removed his fingers they were practically dripping. You looked down shyly to find a small wet circle on the sheets directly beneath you. “Oh my god…did I? Did you make me?” you stammered slightly embarrassed at the thought of what your boyfriend made you do.
“Did you think your boyfriend, who is… the man, couldn't make you squirt?” he exclaimed confidently.
This is perfect! I love the last sentence. 😁 lol He’s totally the man. 😍 I was already yearning for him an unreasonable amount and then I read this and now I’m just a puddle of goo. But I’m okay with that. 😜 Thank you for sharing! 🩵
| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist
chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them.
pairing: kendall roy x f!reader
words: 4.6k
warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this.
a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!
**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **
"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy
Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse.
As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake.
Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.
The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.
“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”
“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”
That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim.
“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”
He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.
Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes.
Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.
Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.
It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.
Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers.
He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured.
Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”
“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up.
“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”
You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy.
“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out.
“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.
If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.”
Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes.
“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”
He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”
You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.
“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.
“They aren’t.”
“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”
You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.”
“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”
“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking.
The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”
“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.
Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”
You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity. “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”
Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.
“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.
But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.
“Just a little.”
“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.
You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.”
“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”
You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?”
“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”
You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.
“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.
“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.
“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin.
“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.
It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips.
There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?
“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes.
He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”
You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric.
You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.
It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away.
“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.
Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does.
So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”
Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that – for anyone except himself, pisses him off. “Fuck you.”
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.
The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.
It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked.
Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”
“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”
“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress, I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”
You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”
Well, okay.
He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties.
“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”
Kendall lets out a dark chuckle, pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg.
Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.
“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to exactly what you like, what you need. You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes.
“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”
Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut.
The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you.
He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face.
“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”
“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.”
“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you.
Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders.
“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.
He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good.
Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths.
“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.
Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”
Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him.
“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.
An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender.
You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.
He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony.
“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”
“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do.
“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.”
His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him. Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.
Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name.
“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”
You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete.
For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.
Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.
Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on.
He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again.
He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.”
From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content.
“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him.
“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”
“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.
“Look where it got me.”
He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”
You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”
I need my people to stop acting like just because someone's anti-government means they actually know what they're talking about. "Harriet Tubman isn't real" now why would you say something so stupid for clicks. Y'all can't wanna be famous this bad.
"How did she move all those people underground?" is very much a question a 10 year old asks to their teacher or parents before they are informed it wasn't actually underground
I can't imagine grown adults asking this, and not attempting to conclude "underground" is code for something
This is also the impact of not teaching real history in schools, by only covering a topic once at a surface level at a young age and never again. When we teach 1st-3rd graders “Harriet Tubman helped free the slaves” and then we never dive into the realness of that statement in middle school and high school, then kids grow up with only a surface level understanding of these things. This is ESPECIALLY true in Red states.
Daily reminder: Transphobia actively contributes to sexism. If you don’t fit the beauty standard and are seen as masculine in any way shape or form, you are seen as transgender and as a “problem”
I think it's incredibly important here to not overlook the fact that she is a Black woman. Transphobia, racism, and sexism overlap significantly because of the incredibly eurocentric beauty standards women are judged on.
Your successful missions, saving a galaxy that perhaps didn't even know they were getting saved. And perhaps they still don't. Perhaps each and every malton unit, they are getting saved in impossible, countless, myriad ways that we will never know or see. But the point is this. Adventure awaits out amongst the stars.
