MOST POPULAR WORKÂ [ FIREFLYâS DAY OUT | Katsuki Bakugou x Reader ]
This blog interacts with dark content and dark content creators. please do not interact if you are under the age of 18. do not repost any of my works on any site, regardless of credit given. do not recommend my works on tiktok. This is NOT a spoiler free blog.
summary: All it takes is one glance at the pretty girl who lives in the apartment across from his for Andrew Cody to become obsessed. But what begins as innocent observation from his window turns into something far more intense.
warnings: +18 MDNI. obsessive behavior, stalking, multiple scenes of male masturbation, themes of shame, reader has type b youngho vibes and andrew is stupidly into it, feminine reader who has hair and wears press on nails, unspecified but implied age gap, reader shares one kiss with a female friend (not super detailed), J pulls your cell phone records as a favor, andrew breaks into your apartment and raids your panty drawer, male masturbation with a vibrator, nipple play, alcohol consumption and mentioned drunkenness, lingerie, exhibitionism on readers part, mutual masturbation, jealousy, bratting/a touch of brat taming, reader tries to make pope jealous with another man, death threats (not to reader or pope), dirty talk, sloppy makeouts, spit swapping, over the clothes nipple sucking, finger sucking, f!use of a vibrator, clit play, rough fingering, unprotected piv, dacryphilia, light angst, insecure pope, reader matches his freak, stalker!reader, forced love confessions, begging, creampie
note: wow ok i think that might be the longest warning i've ever written whoops!! thank u sm to my angel @thykingdoncome for reassuring me through this whole process and taking a lil looksie at this for me love u 4ever
wc: 10.4k
[masterlist] [AO3]
Andrew knows it's weird.
He knows that.
But as long as you don't know he's doing it, what does it hurt?
It's not like he's doing anything weird. He's justâŠwatching you. It almost feels like fate, the way your apartment is positioned directly across from his. There's the courtyard and a pool lying between you, but the windows of his apartment mirror yours so perfectly.
AndâŠyou don't have blinds.
No curtains, no shades. There's not even a half-effort of an old sheet hung up over the glass pane. And at night? When he can't sleep, and the moths circle the flickering porch lights, and you've got those blue or red or purple LED lights onâŠwell.
Pope can see right into your apartment.
Can see you, watching TV on the couch or cooking boxed macaroni in nothing but a loose tank top and a pair of lace underwear.
He thinks you might be the only good thing about the apartment that Smurf forced him into only three days after he was released from prison.
It's been a long time since he's looked at a woman, you know. Longer since he's seen one as pretty as you.
He's not lacking self awareness or anything. Pope knows your open windows and ever changing LEDs aren't an invitation to stare, butâŠsometimes it feels like one.
You fall asleep on the couch most nights. Which is good for him, because Pope can't see into your bedroom.
Some things, he begins to realize, are a sort of chaotic routine.
You tend to fall asleep with your phone in your hand and scramble to find it each morning (it's always under the couch, beneath the hot pink throw pillow you kick off in your sleep).
You don't eat breakfast because you don't wake up early enough to (don't you know it's the most important meal of the day?). Most mornings, you wake up with just enough time to doll yourself up in the bathroom, prioritizing glittery eyeshadow and shimmering lip gloss rather than the sustenance of a bowl of cereal.
He doesn't know what you do for work, but it's something with an inconsistent schedule. You sleep until noon on your days off, which could be any day of the week, Pope learns.
Work doesn't stop you from going out, though. Saturday nights are reserved for those miniskirts and stiletto heels and all your giggling girlfriends who get ready on your living room floor with a hand mirror. You share perfume and makeup and clothes with them before you all climb into a shared uber.
A few times, Andrew finds himself tempted to follow you. He tells himself it's not like he'd be doing it for his own satisfaction. He'd just be doing it to keep an eye on you, that's all. You're a young girl (too young for someone his age). Don't you know there are predators out there?
But he never does. Because that would be weird, right? You don't even know him. ButâŠhe certainly starts to feel like he knows you.
You and your friends always stumble back to your apartment, sometimes falling up the concrete steps to the second floor. One of them will make pizza rolls or messy peanut butter sandwiches and you'll pass around cold bottles of water and spill electrolyte drink mixes on the kitchen counter.
You'll share your things with them even after the club, selfless girl. Passing out hair ties and makeup removing wipes and big t-shirts for them to sleep in. On one particular night, when most of them are passed out on the couch, legs and arms tangled together, Pope even watches you you share a kiss with one of them under pink LEDs.
That night, Andrew has to force his attention away. It feels way too close to the beginning of that porno Craig left open on the family computer years ago.
But this doesn't feel erotic. Watching your mouth move against someone else's doesn't elicit any warmth beneath the fabric of his jeans.
No, it makes Andrew...upset. Angry, even.
It makes him jealous.
He tries not to think about it again. Tries even harder (and fails, repeatedly) to give you some privacy on Saturday nights.
But SundaysâŠSundays are sacred.
Both for you and for him.
So much so that he pulls out on a job when his brothers plan it for a Sunday. Tells them he has to check in with his parole officer that day. Lies to their faces, because he doesn't want to miss out on you.
Because every Sunday, without fail, Andrew gets to see you naked.
You start by cleaning your apartment. Wiping down the counters and vacuuming the carpet and dusting the top of the cabinets. Then you light the candle on the coffee table (pink champagne, he's pretty sure, after looking endlessly online to match up the glass container. Twenty six dollars. Four day shipping. Currently sitting unlit on his nightstand).
And when you're ready, you strip off all your clothes and discard them in the bathroom.
You put oil in your hair and nineties R&B on your bluetooth speaker. You paint your toes (usually white or black, occasionally an electric blue) and glue artificial nails with sparkling gems onto your fingers.
Sunday showers are the longest, Pope knows. Sometimes thirty minutes. And when you emerge from the bathroom, steam rolls out from the open door and you've got your hair wrapped up in a towel. You balance yourself with a foot on the edge of the couch and massage lotion into your skin first.
From top to bottom, moisturizing your entire body. And then you repeat the motion with an oil, and it's during this particular step that Andrew starts feeling a little lightheaded.
He'd bet you feel all smooth and soft and smell so fucking good. Maybe like vanilla or cherry or coconut. And, god. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch himself.
But he resists.
The first three times, anyway.
By the fourth Sunday, thoughâŠwell. His cock gets so fucking hard in his jeans that it's leaking. Making a big fucking mess in his boxers. It hurts, you know?
And it's not like you'll know he's doing it. He's had a little over a month to perfect his setupâlights off, chair angled perfectly so if anyone glanced into his apartment they'd have to really look in order to see him.
So, he takes his cock in his hand and imagines it's your delicate fingers wrapped around him instead. Imagines it's his hands rubbing oil into your shoulders, over the swell of your breasts, pressing into your hips, squeezing at the supple flesh of your thighs.
He'd make sure to do it just how you like. And Pope wouldn't need to be told how to, either. Because he's spent so much time watching you now that he would just know.
He wonders if your head would fall back, wet hair clinging to your slick skin. He wonders if he pressed just right into that tender spot at the small of your back that you're always so gentle with if you'd moan or whine or whimper. Maybe even say his name.
Andrew cums at the thought alone, grunting low, lips parted, his release spilling over his hand and down the hard length of his cock.
The shame doesn't take hold of him for a while.
Not until later that night, when your hair is blow dried and you're dressed in a pretty silk pajama set. You've got some trashy reality show on the TV, and you're eating the pizza you had delivered right out of the box.
Andrew takes the moment to clean himself up. To change out of his clothes and into something more comfortable. He brushes his teeth and climbs in bed, but lays with his head propped up by an extra pillow so he can still see clearly out of his window.
He knows it's weird. He knows he shouldn't be staring at a naked girl who's probably half his age and doesn't know there's some fucking creep across the courtyard who watches her every fucking day. He knows he shouldn't be fucking his fist watching you put lotion on your skin. He knows he shouldn't be changing his plans with family or friends around your schedule, just so he can watch you a little longer.
He knows he should stop.
The problem, however, lies in the wanting.
Andrew's never had much. Not when it comes to women. But youâŠgod. You're so beautiful, and so pure and so different from anything he's ever seen. You don't belong to anyone but yourself, and once he sees you, he finds it impossible to look away.
Things change late one Friday night.
Andrew gets sloppy. He gets comfortable, here in this routine he's created around you.
There's music coming from your apartment, some electronic pop ballad that's at a volume so loud he can hear it from across the courtyard (there will be complaints to the office manager tomorrow morning, he knows. But you don't have to worry. Pope will take care of it for you, baby. He'll make sure you can keep having your fun).
You're wearing just a lacy bra and a pair of linen sleep shorts. There's a seltzer in your hand, and you're singing and dancing like you've somehow summoned all the energy from the club right there in your apartment.
It's a beautiful sight, truly. You're so happy and carefree. The warmest ray of sunshine that he wants to find himself basking under.
Andrew gets comfortable, posture relaxing in the chair that now lives permanently in front of his window. He watches you dance around your apartment, the easy smile on your face reflected back on his own.
He thinks he could really take care of you. Keep you safe. Protect all that girlish whimsy that lives in your heart. He'd make you real happy, Andrew thinks. Would watch you dance with your friends at the club, leaning against the bar. He'd take you shopping and add more of those short dresses into your closet. He'd make you breakfast in the mornings before work and Christâhe'd buy you a set of fucking curtains.
Pope is so lost in the fantasy of it that he doesn't register in time that your dancing has slowed. And you've put your seltzer down on the coffee table.
And you're staring right back at him.
His heart kicks up, pounding against his chest. He knows he should move out of sight, shut his blinds, pass this off as a mistake, maybe even pretend he hadn't seen you.
But he doesn't do any of that.
He's frozen in time, terrified and exhilarated all at once by simply being perceived by you.
Pope justâŠstares.
It seems to be the only fucking thing he's capable of these days.
He expects you to flip him off or maybe come barreling out of the door and across the courtyard to confront him. Or maybe you'll scurry away into your room. Maybe you'll order a set of curtains online.
But you don't do any of that.
You just stare right back.
Andrew tilts his head curiously. It's an involuntary movement.
In the end, you're the first to look away. You pick up your seltzer, dump it down the drain in the kitchen, and then disappear into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
Your routine remains the exact same. You find your phone beneath the throw blanket on the couch and turn off the TV. You turn the kitchen light off and turn on the light above the stove instead. You grab a water bottle from the fridge, and then go to bed in your room.
It's not rushed, and you don't seem nervous or fearful that there's someone watching you.
And Andrew thinks to himself, see. This is why you need him. This is why you need someone looking out for you. Don't you know how dangerous he could be?
He would never hurt you, Andrew knows. But you don't know that.
He doesn't sleep that night. He doesn't sleep often as it is, but his mind is running too fast. Cataloguing all the potential scenarios in which you cut off all access he has to you, severing the comfort he finds in his new favorite, voyeuristic hobby.
And Andrew wouldn'tâcouldn'tâblame you for it. He thinks that's what you should do.
You don't.
The following morning, your routine changes.
On the nights you fall asleep in your bed, you're usually dressed in a pair of jeans with gems decorating the pockets and a low-cut top by the time you emerge from your room.
But not this time.
No, this time you're still wearing the same clothes you'd fallen asleep in. A lacy bra and cotton shorts.
Andrew watches, freshly emerged from the quickest shower of his life, hair still wet, as you stand in front of the fridge to find the fizzy energy drink you'd brought home with you last night.
He watches you struggle for a moment to crack the seal open (Those pretty nails of yours. He could help you with that, you know). You take a slow sip, put the aluminum can down on the counter, and turn your head just enough to let Pope know you see him.
You know he's there, in the window. You know he's watching.
And then, painfully slow, you drag your shorts down your thighs. The fabric pools at your feet, and Pope loses all train of thought.
Because this is no accident. You want this. You want him to watch you.
Your bra is next. You reach around to unclasp it and soon after the lace joins the linen fabric on the linoleum floor.
Warmth blooms beneath his skin as he watches you press your hands to your abdomen, feeling your skin, running your hands up your chest and over the swell of your breasts.
You try and play it off like a stretch, lifting your arms above your head and arching your back.
Andrew knows it's not.
You get ready the rest of the morning like normal. And AndrewâŠGod. He doesn't know what to think.
He knows he should stop this before it goes too far. He thinks it already has.
It'sâŠit's weird, right?
Everything about it is wrong.
He doesn't want to stop, but he knows he should.
He tries, though. For what little it's worth.
Tries to busy himself building a fountain at Smurf's. Tries to find small jobs he can do himself to pass the time. He still thinks about you all hours of the day, though. Like a thorn stuck beneath his skin, aching when he moves just the wrong way.
He overhears Nicky explaining to Deran what an 'everything shower' is and thinks about your Sunday ritual. He walks into a hungover Craig making boxed macaroni in his boxers and thinks of you. Smurf lights a candle called pink cashmere and even though it's not pink champagne, it still makes him think of you.
The pretty little girl in the apartment across from his, who he finds himself certifiably, insanely, obsessed with.
One Thursday afternoon, Andrew returns home earlier than he'd planned. He tells himself he just wants to get a little glance.
Just one look. You know, to soothe the ache the thought of you brings. To see if maybe he imagined the weight of your stare.
What he finds, though, is somehow more concerning.
You're pacing your living room, cell phone pressed to your ear, still wearing jeans and your sneakers. There's tension in your shoulders and even though he can't hear the conversation you're having with the person on the other end of the phone, he can see that you're shouting.
It drags on for the better half of an hour. The pacing, the frustrated hand waving, the pinching of the bridge of your nose. Whatever it is, Andrew bets he could help with it.
He hates seeing you stressed. Thinks you should be living your fun, carefree life like normal. You shouldn't be burdened withâŠwhatever it is that's got you so upset.
But it's not like he can go over and just ask.
So, he chooses a different path instead.
Gets the key to the office of the apartment complex from Smurf. Rummages through the paper files until he finds the lease contract linked to your apartment number.
Andrew thinks he should've done this weeks ago. He learns an awful lot about you this way. Like your name, which he begins to recite like a mantra in his head. He learns your birthday and, regretfully, your age.
But, most importantly, he discovers (and memorizes) your phone number.
And that same day, he returns to Smurf's with a torn piece of paper with the digits scribbled on it. He hands it to his nephew and says, "Need you to get a few phone call records. Can you do that for me?"
J furrows his brows in confusion. "Who's number?"
Pope shrugs. "No one," he lies. "Can you get the records or not?"
"Uh, yeah. Yeah, probably. Anything specific you're looking for?"
"I wanna know about a call that happened today. Around two or so. Lasted almost an hour. Just get me the number of whoever was on the other line."
J hesitates for a single moment, and then nods slowly. "Alright. I'll get back to you on it."
In the meantime, Andrew spirals.
The thought of you having a boyfriend never really crossed his mind until now. You don't really have men over. Just your girl friends.
But there are some Saturday nights you don't come home, stumbling in early Sunday morning instead with sunglasses on and your hair a mess. So, Pope thinks you very well could have a boyfriend and he never would've known it.
Pope tells himself if it is a boyfriend, he won'tâŠhe won't do anything. It's not his place to make decisions for you, right?
Still. You shouldn't let a man stress you out so much. Whoever it is, they're not worth it. You deserve better. You deserve more.
You deserve someone who knows you.
Less than two hours later, Pope gets a phone call from J, who explains that the person on the other end of that phone call wasn't a person at all.
It was your phone company.
Your stupid fucking service provider who just so happened to put an extra two hundred dollar fee on your bill this month, claiming data overages.
All that stress wasn't over a boyfriend. It was over money.
And money is something Andrew can provide.
He waits until you leave for work, locking up tight behind you. But that doesn't matter, not now. Andrew has a key to the office, which means he has access to the spare key to your apartment.
He is fully aware that he shouldn't be doing this, but ten minutes after you leave he unlocks the door and steps inside anyway.
Your apartment smells sweet. Like sugar and citrus. He wonders if you smell the same way, and the thought alone makes Andrew's mouth water.
He moves slowly into your space, fingers tracing over the TV stand, feeling the wood beneath his calloused fingertips. He straightens the crooked throw pillow on the couch and puts the lighter for your candle back into the tray on the coffee table.
Andrew knows he should justâŠleave the cash and go. He shouldn't be snooping around, invading your privacy.
But you left a knife point-side up in the strainer in the sink. And you could get hurt doing something like that.
And once he's already in the kitchen, turning the knife over so the sharp edge is down, wellâŠwhat will it hurt if he opens a couple of drawers?
None of your silverware matches. Andrew finds this little fact sort of endearing. Messy and chaotic in the same way you are, but that's okay. Maybe he can fix that for you one day, too.
Your bathroom is cluttered. There's makeup products littering the porcelain sink and the cabinet mirror is left wide open. Andrew picks up a few different products to read the labels and finds lip liners and leave-in conditioners and powdered blush with pilled pigment on the counter.
He finds that lotion you're always using on Sundays and opens the lid. Andrew brings the container to his nose, inhales deeply, and feels suddenly too hot.
The scent of it is sweet, like you. There's notes of syrupy amber and warm florals and it has the muscles in his abdomen squeezing tight as he thinks about how potent the scent would be if he were between your legs, freshly oiled, calves resting on his shoulders as he licks and sucks at your clit.
His cock has been half hard since the moment he stepped foot in your apartment, but by the time he makes it to your bedroom?
Pope is aching.
Your clothes are strewn all over. There's t-shirts on the floor and jeans inside out near the hamper and a dress you'd worn two weekends ago lying on the edge of your unmade bed.
It smells like you in here, too. Even more so. There's less perfume, but Andrew swears he can smell the scent of your skin. Sweet and intoxicating, sending sparks of arousal straight to his groin.
Your bedside table has a lamp on it and three half-empty bottles of water. There's one drawer, and he pries it open and gives a slow exhale to see all the silk and lace inside.
Going through your underwear drawer is, quite literally, the very last thing someone like Andrew Cody should be doing.
He does it anyway.
Rummages around until he finds that little black pair you like to sleep in. He runs his fingers over the lace band, feeling the softness beneath the rough pad of his thumb. His cock is throbbing, even before he brings the fabric to his nose and inhales the scent of laundry detergent and faint mahogany from the nightstand andâthere. The scent of you.
As close as he can get.
As close as he'll probably ever get.
He needs to leave. Andrew is painfully aware that this is crossing a line of a whole new degree. Levels above simply watching.
This is obsession. This is addiction. Sick and twisted and perverted.
Andrew does not leave.
He climbs into your bed instead. Kicks off his boots and discards his hoodie until he's in nothing but his jeans. He slips beneath your sheetsâsatin, and pink, and filled with the scent of your shampoo and your skin andâfuck.
His cock is leaking by the time he undoes his belt. Andrew reaches beneath your blankets and shoves his jeans down just enough to free himself.
And it's almost enough to blow his load right fucking there, when the underside of his heavy length brushes against the fabric of your sheets. It's almost too much, being in your room, in your bed, breathing in your scent.
But he resists. Grits his teeth and takes his cock in one hand and uses the other to wrap the soft fabric of your underwear around his aching length.
This time, there's nothing slow about the way he strokes himself to the thought of you. He's desperate for it. Release already clouds the edges of his mind and he needs the relief it'll provide.
His brain feels hazy and his vision blurs, just thinking about you, lying here, hand between your legs. He wonders how you touch yourself, if you just play with your clit or if you fuck yourself on your fingers.
The thought crosses his mind that you might be using more than just your hand, and Pope finds himself sitting up. He leans over the edge of your bed and sticks his hand back into your panty drawer, reaching to the very bottom, feeling around until the tips of his fingers brush over silicone.
His heart is beating fast.
It's a small thing. Pink, of course. With only a small, almost hidden power button.
Pope leans back in your pillows and turns the little vibrator on. It buzzes to life in his hand, and when he pushes the button again, the intensity ratchets even higher.
There's only three settings. He turns it to the highest one and imagines holding it against your swollen clit. He imagines you lying under him, thighs around his waist, hips bucking wildly, chasing the vibration that he gives and gives and then takes away.
He turns so he's lying face down in your sheets now, nose pressed into your pillow. Pope puts the vibrator between his cock and the soft expanse of his abdomen, and he feels the sensation everywhere.
He's still got your underwear wrapped around his cock, and he gives a tentative roll of his hips against the mattress.
The groan he lets out is guttural. With his eyes closed, he can imagine its not your panties he's fucking but you. The tight, wet cunt between your legs. He can imagine it's the curve of your throat he's got his nose buried in and not your pillow. He can imagine that sweet, intense vibration is reverberating through your pelvic bone, little toy pressed hard against your clit.
Pope tells himself he'd make it so fucking good for you. He'd bury his cock so deep you'd never forget the weight of it inside you. He'd whisper how beautiful you are in your ear and make you look him in the eyes while he watches you cum over and over and over.
His release isâŠembarrassingly fast.
A few rolls of his hips against your mattress and he's cumming into the lace fabric of your panties, the vibration of the toy milking him until he's so overstimulated it almost hurts.
Pope rolls over, turns the toy off, and buries it back in the bottom of your drawer. He gives himself a few more moments to gather himself. To catch his breath, to wipe himself clean (never mind the couple of drops that now stain your satin sheets. That could be from anything, right?).
He tucks himself back into his jeans, pulls on his boots and his hoodie, and tosses your underwear in the pile of clothes next to the laundry bin.
There's a pair of your jeans in the middle of the floor, away from the rest. One leg of the denim is inside out. Pope takes the cash from his wallet and tucks it into the pocket, leaving out just enough that he knows you'll notice it.
He leaves.
Locks the door behind him with the spare key.
Makes it halfway across the courtyard before he doubles back, lets himself back into your apartment and into the bathroom where he pockets one of the many different chapsticks on the sink.
It isn't until he's home, tucked safe back in his own apartment, that he realizes it's strawberries and cream flavored.
Andrew puts it on, swiping the transparent petroleum over his lips. He tells himself it's almost like kissing.
Later that day, Craig calls a family meeting. But you've just gotten home, and he knows you'll find the cash within a few minutes when you go to change out of your clothes.
So Andrew waits at the bottom of the stairs on his side of the courtyard. He can't see into your apartment from here, though. And he decides he'll only wait for thirty minutes.
He responds to text messages and opens his blank, photo-less Instagram (that he definitely didn't make only to look at your profile. The one filled with selfies under neon lights and bikini photos on the beach and mirror pictures in the dressing room at that one boutique in the mall).
Twenty nine minutes later, he hears an apartment door slam shut and looks up to see you.
You've got your bag over one shoulder and a grin on your face and the cash in your hand. Enough to cover the additional charges and a little extra, too.
You notice him at the bottom of the cement stairs and freeze, but you don't lookâŠscared, like he expects. Maybe a little startled at first, but the tension bleeds from your face the moment you recognize him.
He should say something. Talk to you. Apologize, maybe, for staring at you.
But Andrew isn't sorry.
And he's never really been good at talking, anyway.
You tilt your head and give him the sweetest fucking smile he's ever seen. It's somehow innocent and knowing at the same time, and Andrew feels the corners of his mouth lifting in response.
Something passes silently between you. An understanding, maybe. You know he watches you, and he knows you know, butâŠyou don't stop him. You just let it happen.
You smile at him from fifteen feet away.
And then you turn to leave, no doubt making your way to pay off that stupid bill that caused you so much unrest.
Pope watches you go, like always.
But this time, you glance back at him over your shoulder withâŠsomething lingering in your pretty eyes. Excitement, maybe. He can't be sure.
He needs to get closer.
During the family meeting, he isn't very present. His mind is so far away, stuck on you, that he just blindly agrees to whatever job they're doing next and trusts that it'll all work out.
When he returns to his apartment, there's a note stuck to his door.
A pink sticky note with nothing but a phone number and a heart with an arrow through it scribbled on the paper.
Your phone number, Pope knows.
He knows he shouldn't text you.
It's stupid and dangerous and god, you really shouldn't be giving your number to random men. He could be a creep. He could be a stalker or something.
His message just says,
Hello.
Your response is immediate, with no capitalization which seems quiteâŠfitting for you. He finds it strangely endearing.
hey
are u the guy from apt 212 ???
Pope can feel that this is a bad idea already. But he's already here, and there's no going back now, is there? He doesn't want to hurt your feelings. He doesn't want to leave you on read and make you think he's not interested when the problem is the exact opposite.
Yes.
The typing bubble pops up, disappears, and appears again three different times before you send another message.
im gonna be home in like an hr
will u be watching ???
Always, he wants to say. Fucking always. He can't take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tries. No matter how shameful it feels.
Andrew's hands shake as he types out a response.
Do you want me to be?
No hesitation this time. Your message comes through a second later.
uhmmm tbh yeah <3
He exhales a long breath. It doesn't feel real. Like he's imagining the entire thing. How could he not be? Why on earth would the sweetest, prettiest little thing want someone to watch her?
But the weight of his cell phone in his hand is real.
And the text message is real.
And thisâŠthis is real.
Then yes. I will be.
You don't reply, and Andrew's heart flutters in his chest as he takes his practiced position in the chair in front of his window and waits.
True to your word, you're skipping up the steps fifty three minutes after the last message is sent. You turn on those LEDs and and move about your apartment like normal, kicking off your sneakers and dropping your bag by the door. You change out of your clothes and put on a worn in t-shirt that's two sizes too big for you, but underneathâŠ
Pope can see the sheer thigh highs you wear and the black, lace edge of them. He can see those strappy garters attached to them, but nothing else. The straps disappear beneath your shirt, leaving him wanting for more.
You're teasing him, Pope realizes.
He watches with bated breath as you lay on the couch, getting comfortable with the throw pillow against the arm.
And then, for the first time, Andrew watches you touch yourself.
You start slowly, hands roaming over your body, on top of the fabric, massaging gently at the inside of your thighs.
His cock's always hard watching you, truth be told. But thisâŠ
His skin feels hot. His lungs feel tight.
Your fingers curl around the edge of your t-shirt, and you pull it over your head to discard it on the floor.
Andrew hasn't seen you wear this set before, not even on those sacred Sundays.
It's pretty. Matching black lace. The bra is low cut and pushes your breasts up your chest, the soft flesh swelling over the top. The waistband of the matching panties is decorated in shining silver gems, laying so perfectly against your hips that he feels dizzy just looking at it.
The prettiest package, just begging to be unraveled by his big, mean hands.
You dressed up for him.
You dressed up for him.
Your hands start to move again, palming your breasts, pulling the lace down until they spill out of the top. Your nipples are so pretty that his mouth waters. He wants to kiss them, to feel the shape of them under his tongue. He wants to kneel over top of you and jerk himself off until they're covered in his sticky white release.
You squeeze your breasts until your nipples form pretty little peaks, and then your hands slide lower. Over your abdomen, and your hips, and then your thighs. You bring them slowly back up, only to slide them over the lace fabric of your panties, right down the center of your cunt.
Andrew thinks he could die.
He could fucking die, just looking at you.
Carefully, you unbuckle the chrome latch of your garter. The left side first, and then the right quickly follows. You leave the lace belt on, but hook your thumbs around the bedazzled lace of your panties and pull them down your thighs painfully slowly.
Your knees fall apart.
Pope swallows hard.
He can see everything from here. The seam of your thighs that he's dreamt about. The pretty shape of your pussy. The wetness that's gathered between your folds, slick and shiny with arousal. With want.
For him. It's for him.
His cock throbs so hard it hurts.
Pope doesn't touch himself. He can't. Can he? All you asked of him was that he watched.
That's what you wanted.
But wouldn't it be better if he was there? Wouldn't it be better if he could touch you, if he could taste you, if he could fuck you?
All you'd have to do is let him in.
Your fingers stroke gently over your clit in small circles, and he watches in awe as your lips part and your spine bends.
He can't hear your moans but god does he wish he could. Thinks about putting a little microphone in your lampshade the next time he sneaks into your apartment.
Your fingers drift lower, over your center, and slowly press inside.
Pope wants it to be him so fucking bad.
If not his cock inside you then his fingers. They're bigger. Longer. Thicker. They'd please you more. Reach places your fingers can't.
Maybe his tongue. He'd drink you right from the fucking source and cum in his jeans, probably. But he'd make sure to find that sweet, velvety spot inside you first and he'd spell his full fucking name over it with a pointed tongue.
Silly girl. Don't you know what he could do for you? Don't you know what he could do to you?
Pope squeezes the bulge in his jeans to try and alleviate the pain of his lust.
You fuck yourself with your fingers, stuffing in one and then two and then three, stretching yourself on them, slick dripping down the seam of your cunt. Your back arches when your free hand finds your clit, and he knows you're close.
He knows he shouldn't, but he searches frantically for his phone anyway and sends another text message.
I want to hear you.
You pause only long enough to grab your phone off the coffee table, read the text, and lay your phone on the arm of the couch behind you.
Pope's phone buzzes in his hand.
You're calling him.
He answers on the first ring, and the sounds that greet him are so erotic it steals the breath from his lungs.
You sound so pretty. So sweet and feminine, everything he's imagined yet somehow so, so much more. He's sure you can hear his heavy breaths on the other end of the phone, but Pope can't find it in himself to care. Can't think of much else besides the way you whimper and the sight of your fingers stuffed inside you.
"Oh, godâ"
His inhale is shaky.
"I'm gonna cum," you choke out, words hazy with your moans. "I'm so close, I'm so fuckingâhmm. Yes. What's your name?"
He almost doesn't hear you, so lost in the sight before him. Immersed in the euphoria of it. But then he says, voice a low, uncertain whisper, "Andrew."
Your spine bends and the fingers on your clit slow. "Oh my god. Fuck, AndrewâI'm cumming, I'mâyes, yesâgod."
His cock twitches and when he tries to soothe it with another tight squeeze, he sends himself careening off the precipice of release instead. His head falls back and his once heavy breaths get stuck in his lungs. Pope rubs himself over his jeans, making a sticky, hot mess in his boxers, generating what little friction he can.
He watches you come down in real time. Not his dreams, not his imagination. He watches it happen. Watches that fucked-out, hazy look cross your face. Watches the tension in your muscles melt away, wishing he could kiss the junction of your throat.
Pope wishes he could worship you. Wishes he could clean you up and put on that trashy reality show you like and hold you against his chest, comforting you while your brain comes back to earth.
Instead, you lean up. Grab your phone and press it to your ear, staring right at him through his wide open window.
He doesn't know what he expects you to say, but it's certainly not, "Have you been inside my apartment, Andrew?"
For a second, he thinks about lying. Because there's no way you know, right? Not for sure. It's not like you have cameras or anything (he knows, because he checked).
But he doesn't want to lie. Not to you.
"IâŠmight have been. Once, yes."
"Did you steal my chapstick?"
"You have ten of them."
He hears your laugh for the first time, and the sound is like sunlight in his chest. "You took the best flavor."
"I'mâŠI'm sorry. I'll return it."
"Keep it. I already got a new one," you say. "Cost me five hundred dollars, though."
So, you know it was him who left the cash, too.
Smart, pretty girl.
He doesn't say anything, too afraid he'll say something stupid or awkward the way he usually does. He doesn't want to ruin this moment. This absolutely perfect moment.
You smile at him, kiss your palm, and blow it towards your window. "Goodnight, Andrew."
He feels his face heat. "Goodnight."
Pope rides the high of it for days.
Can't shake the sight of you open and bare for him. Can't stop thinking about the sound of your moans or the way you'd said his name in the peak of euphoria. He fucks his first to the thought of it more times than he can count.
And Andrew's never been a really sexual person. Not unless it's with someone he loves.
But is that what this is? Love?
You've never met. Not really, not properly. How could it be something so intense? You don't know him. You don't know who he is or what he does. You don't know how he's hurt and maimed and killed.
Would you be afraid, finding out? Would you run to the police if you knew? Would you recoil away from him with terror in your eyes?
All things left unsaid. All things that may, very well, never be said.
Pope feels so uncertain with all of this that he finds himself resorting to fucking google, even. Search history littered with questions and Reddit threads that never provide any real clarity.
Define love.
Define obsession.
How to know if you're in love?
How to ask a girl out?
How to get over a girl.
Define voyeur.
Define fetish.
How big of an age gap is too big?
Apartments for sale on the east coast.
Pink champagne candle.
Strawberries and cream chapstick bulk pack.
You text him again a week after your exhibitionistic display.
do u wanna like go out sometime?? been thinking about u a lot
He's at Smurf's when he reads the message.
Pope doesn't even realize he's smiling until Deran slides a beer across the counter at him and asks, "What's got you all happy today?"
And Pope just shakes his head. Schools his features back into neutrality and says, "Nothing. Just won a bet."
He can tell his brother doesn't believe him, not even for a second. But thankfully, Deran doesn't push any further. He lets the subject go, but the question stays stuck in Andrew's head for hours.
It takes him a while to decide on a response. It's honest, andâŠmostly true.
We shouldn't. I'm a lot older than you.
Your response is a single, painful letter.
k
He doesn't respond to try his hand at damage control, even though he wants to. It's probably better this way, he thinks. Better that there's some distance between you. Better that you hate him and see him as the creepy neighbor he is.
But that Saturday night, when you return home, it's not with your friends.
Pope watches from his window as you guide a man up the stairs and into your apartment.
He's tall. Dark haired, with bright eyes and white teeth and a good smile. Closer to your age. Handsome like a man allowed into your space should be.
You're fumbling a little with your apartment key and Pope watches as the man stands behind you and slides his hands down the back of your thighs.
Thighs he should be touching. Thighs he's watched for months. Thighs that spread for him, long before this fucking loser ever laid his eyes on you.
He tells himself he won't interfere.
You're your own woman. You deserve to feel good, even if it's withâŠsomeone else.
And Pope knows he's just going to have to get the fuck over it.
He did it to himself, really.
He should look away.
But he watches instead.
Watches the two of you fall onto the couch. Watches another man kiss down the column of your throat and squeeze the supple curve of your ass over your sequined dress.
Your eyes find his from across the courtyard, and Pope's jaw clenches.
Putting on another show for him. Filthy, filthy girl.
And you're just going to give it to some random man? Someone who doesn't know you like Pope does? Someone who doesn't know how you like to be touched?
He needs to look away. Close his own fucking blinds for once.
But he feels frozen. Knowing this time, you're watching him. Looking for him. Goading for a reaction.
Pope watches the slow ascent of the man's hand. Promises himself he won't interfere. He'll just watch to make sure you're safe, that's all.
But the moment that greedy hand disappears beneath your dress, Andrew's moving. Throwing open his door and slamming it closed behind him. He crosses the courtyard and takes the steps two at a time.
His fist against your apartment door is incessant. He doesn't stop, even when he hears the uttered, male voice ask, "Who is that?"
When the door opens, it's you who stands in front of him, chin tilted up as you stare at him, pupils flared wide.
The man you'd brought home with you hovers over your shoulder.
Pope doesn't even look at him. He stares only at you as he says, a little snarl in his voice, "Tell him to leave."
"Dude, what the fuck? Who is this guy?"
Your lips curl at the corners. A devilish little smile. "Okay," you say, nodding, your voice soft and pliant. You turn your head to look at the man who stands behind you. "Sorry, but you've gotta go."
"You're joking," he responds flatly. "You said I couldâ!"
Andrew reaches past you and takes him by the collar, pulling him out of your apartment and slamming him up against the paneled siding. "I ever see you in this apartment again, I'll fucking kill you. You understand me?"
"Jesus fuckingâyeah, okay. Alright. Sorry."
Pope isn't joking. Doesn't say it to scare him off but rather as a warning.
He lets him go and watches him scramble down the stairs. He doesn't turn back to face you until the little tool you used for attention gets in his car and drives away.
And when he does finally turn back to youâŠChrist. Your eyes are half lidded and full of lust. Pope's close enough this time that there's no mistaking it.
He should be a gentleman. Should take you out first. Bring you home and kiss you on your doorstep and leave you untouched.
He knows he should.
What he does instead is curl his hand around the back of your neck and pull you to him. He leans down, mouth hovering over yours, breathing in your panicky exhales. "This what you want?"
Your grin is immediate and undeniable. You nod and breathe out the word, "Please."
Andrew kisses you hard, crowding you back into your apartment. He kicks the door closed behind him and slides his tongue into your mouth, tasting you and groaning at the sweetness. There's mint and strawberry and you, his favorite flavor.
He feels drunk on it. On the taste of your tongue, the glide of your wet lips over his, the way your hands scramble and tug desperately at his belt.
"Fuck," he sighs, pulling back just enough to see you. "Open your mouth, baby. Wide. And stick out your tongue."
The way you immediately obey has his cock twitching. Good girl. So fucking good for him when he gives you exactly what you need.
Andrew licks the flat of your tongue once, delighting in the way you whimper in response, before bringing his hand to your mouth. He slides two fingers behind your teeth and orders, "Suck."
You do, lips closing tight around the digits, wet tongue swirling over his thick knuckles. He pushes them further down your throat, your eyes locked on his as he makes you choke on them.
"So fucking pretty," he tells you. "You always look so pretty."
Andrew pulls the straps of your mini dress over your shoulders, roughly tugging the fabric over your chest down to expose your breasts.
You're wearing the same lace bra you'd worn when you dressed up for him, he realizes. He can see the peaks of your nipples through the semi-sheer fabric, and leans down to lock his lips around the left one over the lace.
The fabric is rough beneath his tongue, a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. He sucks hard, spreading the wetness of his saliva over the lace. You push your dress further down your waist and over your hips.
Andrew slides his fingers out of your mouth, sticky and dripping with your spit. He brings them to his own lips instead and sucks them clean, watching your breath hitch and your eyes grow impossibly more hazy.
He lowers himself to his knees before you and his slick fingers work quickly at the straps of your heels, unbuckling them to free your pretty, white-painted toes.
Your hands find his shoulders for balance. "I like that you watch me," you tell him. "I think about it sometimes and it makes me soâŠgod, Andrew. It gets me so wet."
He looks up at you from his knees, big brown eyes glassy and full of adoration. "Good," he says. "'Cause I'm gonna watch you a little closer tonight."
That pretty smile finds its way to your face again.
Andrew presses a sweet, chaste kiss to the apex of your thighs. Over your panties, right where he knows your clit lies beneath. He then stands to his feet, towering over you now without the added height of your heels, and presses you forward.
You take a careful step back, nearly losing your balance.
Andrew grins, taking another step, crowding you back towards your bedroom. He doesn't stop until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress.
You stumble backwards, falling into the plush sheets that he's all too familiar with. Lying on your back, propped up by your elbows, you stare up at him with wide eyes and he's reminded of a timid little animal caught in the trap of a predator.
Don't you know how dangerous he could be?
You don't look afraid. You actually lookâŠeager.
Pope stands tall at the edge of your mattress. "Take off your clothes."
You do. Unclasping your bra first, tossing the fabric into the already existing mess on the floor. And then your panties follow, thumbs hooking around the fabric to drag it down your legs.
Andrew reaches around and fists the collar of his shirt, tugging it over his head. He feels warm all over, watching you greedily drink up the sight of him. He thinks he'd feel a little nervous, in any other setting. If it were anyone but you.
His sweet, filthy girl.
Andrew reaches into the half-open drawer of your nightstand, searching until he finds your vibrator again.
Your brows furrow as you watch him find it with practiced ease. "You went through my underwear drawer, too?"
"Did more than that," he admits.
You inhale like you're going to speak again, but the words melt to nothing when he tosses the small toy onto the bed beside you.
"Use it," Pope orders.
"What?"
He crawls onto the mattress between your legs, spreading them wide, laying your calves on either side of his hips. "Let me watch you."
There's a moment of hesitation, but you don't look nervous. OnlyâŠcurious.
You pick up the vibrator and slide the pink silicone through your folds, spreading your arousal before you press the power button. You circle your clit with the tip of it a few times, teasing yourself.
When you turn the toy on, he can feel the vibration against his hands that grip your thighs. You let out a syrupy moan and turn the intensity higher, drawing tight circles around your pretty clit.
He watches you, eyes locked on the pink silicone between your legs. He watches your entrance flutter, tightening around nothing, begging to be filled. "Your pussy is so pretty," he mutters. "Do you know that?"
Your only response is a breathy whimper. You click the intensity up again, putting it on the highest setting, and Pope sighs when your legs begin to shake around him.
He wants to watch you make yourself cum. Wants another scene to fuck his fist to in the shower or in his bed or in his truck.
But he's here. Finally, finally here, in your bed, with you, and he can't help himself.
Pope grips your hips hard and pulls you closer, tilting your hips up into his lap. The vibrator falls from your hand at the sudden movement, but he's quick to return it to you. "Keep going."
You press the silicone back to your clit, and Andrew spreads you open with gentle thumbs. He gathers the spit in his mouth and lets it drip from his lips and onto the seam of your cunt.
And then he's sliding his middle finger inside of your entrance, curling it upwards, searching for that sweet spot that makes you writhe.
It doesn't take long. He's watched you. He knows just what you like and what angle to hit. And the second the tip of his finger presses hard against it, you fist your free hand in the sheets and curses fall from your sweet mouth.
Pope slides another thick finger inside, watching the way you squirm, feeling the walls of your cunt flutter around the swell of his knuckles.
"I'm gonna cum, I'm gonnaâoh, fuck. Feels so good, feels so fuckingâ"
A long, throaty moan leaves your mouth, and he feels the warmth of your release pool in his palm. You're so slick that each wet thrust of his fingers echoes against the walls of your room.
He doesn't stop until you're twitching. Until you click the vibrator off and shove it away from you. And even then, he still gives a few, slow curls of his fingers inside of you. Not touching with intent, justâŠfeeling. Memorizing.
Once you catch your breath, you lean up enough to find his eyes again. You say timidly, shyly, "I wantâŠI want to feel you, Andrew. I want you inside me. Do youâŠdo you want to fuck me?"
It's the most asinine question he's ever been asked in his fucking life. Does he want to fuck you?
He's thought of nothing else for months. Every night when he fights for sleep, it's the thought of you under him that puts him to bed.
It's such an impractical concern from his point of view that he laughs. Actually laughs, for the first time in years. "Oh, baby."
Pope takes your hands in his. He presses one to his chest, right over his heart, and the other against the hardness in his jeans.
"I have never wanted another woman as bad as I want you," he says truthfully. "But IâŠyouâŠyou deserve better than this. Better than me. You understand that, don't you?"
You shake your head. "You don't know me, Andrew. Not really. You don't know ifâ"
"No, no. I do. I know you're the kind of friend who would give the shirt off their back. The kind of girl who'd let her phone get cut off before asking for help. The kind of girl who gets up every morning and justâŠtries. Every day. And you fuckingâŠyou smile about it. You're good. You're so fucking good and IâŠ"
He stops.
Remembers the last time he loved someone like this and how he'd made a stupid confession he should've taken to his grave and how it'd fucked him completely.
"You're what, Andrew?"
Pope swallows. "I'm...I'm a bad man. I've hurt people. I willâŠhurt people, Iâ" His voice cracks. He lowers his eyes, trying to turn away, unable to find the strength to face you.
But you take his jaw in your gentle hands and force him to look at you. Sweet, angel of a girl that you are. And then you say without a waver to be found in your voice, "I like who you are. Do you think I gave the man who watches me through my window my phone number because I want some guy I could match with on Tinder?"
He tries to slow the rapid pounding of his heart. He wonders if love is supposed to be like this. To feel like this. All consuming and terrifying and devastatingly hopeful above all.
You shake your head and tuck your legs beneath you, sitting up on your knees. He sits stone still as you lean forward and kiss his cheek, whispering against his ear, "I've been watching you, too, Andrew Cody."
Something shifts inside of him as you say it. Uttering his last name that he'd never given you, that isn't even on his lease because this is a fake apartment under a fake name to launder the money they steal.
Ohâsweet, smart girl. Smarter than he thought.
How silly of him to ever doubt you.
There's a newfound wildness in your eyes when they meet his again. An unveiling. Like he's seeing you for who you truly are for the first time.
And you'reâŠgod. So fucking beautiful.
And, yeah. Pope thinks he's been right this whole fucking time.
He's weird and wrong and sickly obsessed.
But you are, too.
Andrew takes you by the back of the neck and kisses you hard, desperate to taste you, to close what little physical space remains between your body and his. He pushes you back against the mattress and follows you down.
Your hands find his belt buckle before he does, and he stares down at you as your deft fingers pry the leather open and unbutton his jeans. He helps you push the denim down his legs until his cock springs free, heavy and leaking. Wanting for you, twitching as you take it carefully in your hand.
A groan reverberates at the back of his mouth. Your hands are so soft. Perfect and pliant. One day, he swears he'll show you how he likes to be touched. He'll let you sit in his lap and watch him stroke his cock for you.
But for now, he lets you touch him slowly. Experimental. Feeling the heavy weight of him in your palm. You spit on your fingertips and spread your saliva over his sensitive tip, flushed red and pulsing beneath your touch.
You lean back and guide him between your thighs, sliding the head of his cock through your syrupy folds and over your clit.
The moment you line him up at your entrance, Pope eases inside and you let out the sweetest fucking sigh he's ever heard in his entire life. Sweet and soft and so, so satisfied.
It's so beautiful. You're so beautiful. And you feel warm and heavenly and wet around him. He pulls out slowly, almost all the way, and then drives his cock back into your cunt.
You squeal and those sharp, acrylic nails dig into his spine. But your legs circle his hips, and so Pope does it again.
He fucks you hard. Claiming that spot at the back of your cunt, pressed right up against your cervix. He rolls his hips and presses his mouth to yours, swallowing up those desperate, carnal sounds he pulls out of our chest.
Sweet girl. Sweet fucking girl. He reaches between you and circles your clit. "My girl now," he says, words spoken against your lips. "You'll never need anyone else, baby. No one but me."
You nod, the velvety walls of your pussy squeezing around the hard length of his cock.
Andrew puts his whole weight on top of you, grinding himself between your thighs, giving you everything he has. Everything he is.
"I'm yours," you choke out. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'mâ"
It becomes a mantra. One that feeds his desire, in perfect sync with the rhythm of his thrusts. He watches your arousal begin to crest, nearing the summit, the muscles in your thighs twitching. "Look at me, baby," he says. "Tell me you love me when I make you cum."
You're so lost in it, head all spacey, that your eyes remain closed until he takes your jaw in a firm grip.
There are pretty tears in your eyes when you open them, but that smile on your face is present, too. He feels you pulse around him and your breath gets all shallow and thenâ
"I love you, Andrew, I fuckingâoh my god please, pleaseâI love you."
The words are music to his ears, tingling down his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He thought the sound of his name in your mouth was beautiful but thisâŠfuck. He could die.
Pope thinks he would. For you, he would.
He fucks you through it. Tastes your moans and says, "Yeah, that's it. Give it to me. Look so pretty when you cum for me."
He doesn't let his pace falter until your muscles loosen, until your nails stroke gently over his spin instead of leaving marks.
You pepper sweet kisses over his jaw, tongue sliding up the shell of his ear. "I want you to cum inside me," you tell him.
He's been fighting it the whole time, trying desperately not to blow his load before he'd at least gotten you there first.
But when you say that?
When you say, "Please, Andrew. Want you to give it to me. Want you to fill me up with your cum. Please. I need it."
He thinks about telling you that you don't have to beg. Not him, not for anything (especially this). But you just sound so pretty, begging for his cum, that he can't bring himself to do it.
So, he gives you what you want instead. Fucks his cum into you, groaning low in your ear, cock pulsing inside you. You feel so good wrapped around him it's euphoric. Otherworldly.
Your pussy grips tight, milking him dry, taking every last drop (he knows you're on birth control. Don't you know the women's clinic downtown keeps a spare key beneath the plant in front of their door?).
Andrew is careful when he slides out of you. And he wastes no time before kicking his jeans the rest of the way off and pulling you against his chest.
He pulls the blanket up around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your hairline. His voice wavers a little as he says, "Sorry if IâŠif I was a little rough."
You shake your head, pressing your nose to the divot between his pectorals. "It was perfect," you murmur against his skin.
Silence settles between you. Comfortable and easy, the sound of your breathing in perfect synchronization.
After some time you say, "I meant it, you know. Wouldn't have said it if I didn't. I really think I might be in love with you, Andrew. Is thatâŠcrazy?"
Yes, he wants to say.
But he feels it, too.
So instead he says, "You know, I don'tâŠI don't have much experience with that sorta thing. Don't really know how toâŠto navigate it, I guess. But, uhmâŠyeah. Me, too."
He feels that smile of yours against his chest.
Andrew knows that this dynamic the two of you have created is weird.
đđđ đđđđđâđ đ đđđđđđđđ đđđđđ. đâ°đŠą.âᄫᥠâ please give all of these incredible writers the love and support. đŻ random fandom & character order, 18+ only please.
â part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven,
Coming Home To You, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
City Limits, đ.đ, @in-ky
Always Go Older, đ.đ, @bluetimeombre
The Better Woman, đ.đ, @annsfics
Little Green Monster, đ.đ, @seewhoyouwanttosee
Bet Gone Right, đ.đ, @fangirl-dot-com
Test The Theory, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Special Treatment, đ.đ, @popecodysgirl
Give Me Five Minutes, đ.đ.đ, @groovyangelkisses
Strays, đ.đ, @rr-after-dark
To Need Somebody, đ.đ, @barnesdreamcatcher
Paper Thin Walls, đ.đ, @agnireed
Can We Just Be Quick, đ.đ.đ, @romantic-insomniac
Darling, đ.đ, @mooninsaggy
Inferno, đ.đ, @glamorizethechaos
Take You Down, đ.đ, @sugartalkingwrites
Watermelon, đ.đ, @groovyangelkisses
Heartbeat, đ.đ, @youknowiloveyou-so
The Right Thing, đ.đ, @annsfics
Back In The Car, đ.đ.đ, @in-ky
Hard To Get, đ.đ, @bluetimeombre
Tacticle, đ.đ, @grimgasm
Slice Of Life, đ.đ.đ, @rr-after-dark
Helpful, đ.đ, @groovyangelkisses
Manâs Duty, đ.đ, @annsfics
Iced Lemonade, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Controversially Younger, đ.đ, @j4ckr4bbits
The Aftermath, đ.đ, @seewhoyouwanttosee
Pulled Over, đ.đ, @groovyangelkisses
Safe Haven, đ.đ.đ, @agnireed
Devil Of The Danforth Estate, đ.đ, @cherienymphe
Breaking Him, đ.đ, @nowimconvinced
Young Nurse, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Get What I Want, đ.đ, @annsfics
Beautifully Broken, đ.đ.đ, @pedroscurls
Sweetheart, đ.đ, @unhoelyplaces
Kiss It Better, đ.đ, @cherryambition
Her Name, đ.đ.đ, @fanficwritinggirl
Safety, đ.đ, @rynwrites4fun
Townhouse On The Corner, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Guard Dog, đ.đ.đ, @rr-after-dark
Praise Perfection, đ.đ, @agnireed
Lonely Out In Paris, đ.đ, @ceriseangels
The Baby Gift, đ.đ, @raccooninthemachine
Got No Game, đ.đ, @pittrabbit
First Fight, đ.đ.đ, @tumbleweedstillhaspanic
summary: the pitt notices the growing tension between you and dr. jack abbot, even after you're moved to the day shift temporarily - spurring forth a secret bet you're both unaware of. jack is there when you get injured at work, and he shows you just how helpful his hands can be.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, porn with a lotta plot (we work for our porn in this household), undefined age gap, hint at power imbalance (they're both consenting adults), sloooow burn, swearing, jealousy, mutual pining, jack is a yearner, so much tension it's dizzying, santos is a menace, lots of dialogue, reader has had knee surgery, reader gets injured, mentions of jack's prosthetic, swat jack, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, baby), detailed explicit smut, reader is desperate (aren't we all for that old man), dirty talk, teasing, praise kink, nipple play, fingering, oral (f!recieving), squirting, jack comes untouched, thigh grinding, unprotected pnv (reader is on birth control), service dom!jack, aftercare, dual pov, no use of y/n, not beta read, partly proofread, smut is not proofread (whatever i wrote is between me and the demon that possessed me)
word count: 16.7k (last 6k is straight up smut)
authors note: part 2 is finally here đ i have been going back and forth on this for weeks; i cannot just go full smut so apologies for the additional plot to part 1 (i'm not sorry, i love the pitt shenanigans đââïž). i finally listened to yes, chef - shawn...the man that you are. i live for praise so don't be shy đ«Š
song inspo: ooo - amber mark
divider credits: red line divider by @/omi-resources, medical divider by @/sisterlucifergraphics
part one masterlist
Have you ever thought about the things we could do?
Wakin' up next day smellin' like my perfume
I'll turn you on, I know you want those
Late night views, just us two, me on you
Jack Abbot knew what he was doing was wrong.
Well, maybe not wrong per seâbut it wasn't typical attending behaviour. He knew for a fact he wouldn't guide Crus to an empty patient room if he caught him with a slight limp, knew he wouldn't touch Ellis' bare leg let alone fucking massage it.
The first time it happened he convinced himself that no, it was typical attending behaviourâhe was concerned that your pain would affect your ability to treat patients. And yeah, there was a sliver of understanding as wellâhe knew how hard it was to ignore the physical ache, how once it reached a point it became an obsessive loop of pain, pain, pain.
Having an excuse to touch you, to get close to youâthat was just a bonus, it wasn't the sole reason he was helping you. At least that's what he kept on telling himself, to convince himself that the professional boundaries were still there.
The second time he dragged you into an empty patient room, he was able to admit to himself that it wasn't typical attending behaviour. And while helping to relieve your pain wasn't wrong, the thoughts he had with your leg on his lap definitely were.
The thoughts he carried home with him after every shift with you, they were wrong. But, fuck, did they feel so right. Touching himself remembering how your skin felt under his hands, replaying your small pained whimpers and the look of relief on your face âhe knew that was wrong. Moaning your name out as he came over his fist and stomach, he knew that was wrong. But no one would ever knowâyou would never know.
"So," he started, his fingers pressing into the spots on your calf he knew were the worst. "Any more first date horror stories?"
He didn't know why he was asking. He didn't want to know about you going out with other men. But it was on the long list of things about you that kept him up as he tried to sleepâthe incessant thoughts about you spending your time with a man that was undeserving. Endless thoughts about another man's hands tending to your knee, hands that were allowed to drift higher and pull sounds from you he could only dream about hearing.
You placed your hands behind you on the patient bed, leaning back on them. "No, I've learned my lesson. Think I might get started early on that whole single, crazy cat lady thing."
His breathy laugh brushed across your bare shin. "Oh, yeah? How's that going?"
You pretended to think for a second with a hum. "I went to an animal shelter the other day, there was a cute three legged cat that I wanted to adopt."
He felt his chest crack open with something warm at the thought of you with a little amputee cat.
"Why didn't you?" His hazel eyes were tender when they met yours.
"JustâŠdon't know if it's the right time. They're much less work than dogs, but it's still a petâsomething that would rely on me." You shrugged, looking up at the ceiling because his eyes were too intense. A small wince left you as he worked on a tight knot.
"You're a very reliable person, I'm sure you could manage just fine. Plus, it's a three legged catâthose guys are adorable." He finished with a half smile.
You looked at him again, a small smile gracing your lips. "It sounds like you really want me to adopt this cat."
Jack was ready to go to every animal shelter in Pittsburgh to find that cat himself, if it guaranteed you wouldn't waste any more time on a man that wasn't him.
He finished off the massage with a soft pat to your shin. "If it means that you won't date any more assholes, then yeah, I want you to adopt the damn cat."
You were aware of the eyes on you and Dr. Abbot since he began helping with your knee. It was obvious when Ellis' and Shen's eyes trailed after you both as Abbot steered you towards South seventeen the second time he noticed your pained wince and limp. And it was especially obvious when Nurse Vivi came into what she thought was an empty room, intending to prep it for a patient from chairs.
"Oh! I'm sorry, doctors." She shot you a peculiar smile, her eyes flicking down to your exposed leg. "You okay?"
Dr. Abbot stood up and approached the door that Vivi was half standing in. "Yep. Just an old injury flare up." He said casually, like he did this for every one of his staff. He gave you a single nod before walking back into the ED.
The few hours until the end of your shift after that incident were full of raised eyebrows from Lena and Bridgetâmainly directed at Dr. Abbotâand curious side-eyes from Ellis.
Lena approached you in the staff locker room as you grabbed your bag, Ellis doing the same at her locker next to yours.
"Hey, sweetie," she gave you a warm smile. "You know you can tell me if anything, if anyone, is making you uncomfortable, right?"
You felt heat rush up your neckâyou understood what she was insinuating immediately. "Yes, of course!"
She tilted her head to the side, a look of suspicion pulling at her features.
You sighed, "it's nothing, really. I have an old sports injury that's been acting up, and Dr. Abbot has been helping when it slows me down."
Lena nodded slightly with a small smile. "He's a good man."
You didn't need the reminder. It was something that had you spiralling while trying to sleep more often than not lately.
"Let us know when it acts up again, okay? An ex once told me I have the hands of a masseuse." She ended with a wink before exiting, throwing a wave at you two over her shoulder.
The fourth and last time Dr. Abbot sat on a stool in front of you, it felt like you were under a microscope. You caught the double takes nurses did as they walked past the open curtain, and the small smirk on Ellis' lips had you wanting to shrink in on yourself.
You couldn't even enjoy the feel of his hands on your skin.
You couldn't enjoy the way his scrub sleeves were pulled taut around his biceps, the fabric straining against his thick muscles. You couldn't enjoy how every tendon in his arm tensed and moved while he massaged your calf, a sight that normally left you speechlessâthat left you with an ache you could only satiate with your hand between your thighs, imagining it was his instead.
Then there was the way Dr. Abbot looked at you in those brief moments you were aloneâlike he was memorising every detail about you. It made you want to crawl out of your skin. He was so goddamn attentive, catching every micro-flash of pain your face betrayed. And despite the sinking feeling that what you were doing was wrong, his hands on your skin felt so rightâthey left you feeling dizzy and flustered every time.
His voice was always softer, the rough edge of his professional doctor side falling away. He spoke to you almost as if you were a friend, and made it seem like this was something he often did with friends.
It was in that soft voice of his that he opened up about his own pain with his amputated legâtelling you the small things he did to help alleviate the pain, recommending you the cream he used, reminding you to take a small break whenever the chaos quietened enough.
"Can't have my best resident suffering," he mumbled, his eyes flicking to your mouth when one of your pained whimpers slipped free.
You chuckled through the tightness in your chest from his praise. "Don't let Ellis or Crus hear you say thatâthey might swap to the day shift in retaliation."
He let out a scoff. "Nah, they're too weird for the day shift," he gave you one of his signature winks. "Besides, I think Ellis would end up in a fist fight with Robby if she had to spend a full twelve hour shift with him. God knows how many times I've been close to punching him."
You threw your head back with a loud laugh, your body shaking from the intensity. You gave him a teasing smile after you caught your breath. "Isn't he one of your closest friends?"
Jack couldn't stop the full blown grin on his face, the sound of your laughter filling his body with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.
"And? You telling me you haven't wanted to cause your friends physical harm when they were being dicks?"
Another giggle slipped out of you. "Yeah, you've got me there. Santos has a photo of a bruise I gave her when we went out a few weeks ago." You held up a finger as his eyes shot up to yours, his eyebrows raised in surprise and his mouth parting to no doubt give you shit. "Before you say anything, she totally deserved it."
He shook his head with a small laugh, squinting his eyes at you. "I'm sure she did."
He finished massaging your leg, rolling your scrub pant down over your knee. He flashed you a small smirk before giving your calf a light pinch.
"I always knew you had a fiery side."
Fuck.
At the end of your next shift was when you realised how serious it really was. You were standing in the ambulance bay before morning rounds, catching a breath of fresh air when Dana joined you outside.
"I can already feel this is gonna be a long one," she huffed, pulling out a cigarette and lighter.
She lit the cigarette and took a long drag before looking at you with a glint in her eye. "You nightcrawlers are great at leaving a mess behind."
"Hey, that's not on me. I clean up after my weirdos." You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the exterior wall.
"You ever think about coming back to us, kid?" She flicked the butt of her cigarette, bringing it to her lips for another puff. "Step back into the light, you need the sunshine." She patted your cheek lightly.
You rolled your eyes fondly. "Always the mama bear, Dana. I get plenty of light, seeing as how my shift finishes when the sun comes up."
She cleared her throat softly before taking a step closer and laying a hand on your arm. Her voice dropped low, soft. "Nurses, they like to talk. And you have been a hot topic lately, missy."
You tensed immediately, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips. "Whatâwhat are you talking about? Has myâŠwork been called into question?"
She rubbed your arm with a squeeze. "No, no, nothing like that. People are just worried, maybe a little intrigued. Is there anything I should know, doll?"
"Is this about Dr. Abbot?"
She gave you a brief nod and you sighed, your head dropping forward. The exhaustion from the twelve hour shift was bordering on unbearable and all you wanted was to crawl into bed.
"I swear, nothing is happening. I would never do that, would never jeopardise my career like that. He just happened to notice my knee injury a few weeks back and has been helping when it hurts. I told Lena all thisâŠ" you trailed off, your voice dropping to a mumble.
She finished her cigarette, pressing the butt against the wall before chucking it in the bin next to her. She turned back to you, a look of understanding on her face and a glimmer in her eye.
"Okay, I just wanted to hear it from you." She pulled you into a side hug, squeezing tight. "I'll tell the rumour mill to pipe down, don't want you running off before you become an attending."
You both walked back into the ED, only one of you aware of the conversation that was happening on the hospital's rooftop.
The brisk morning air was biting on the roof, tingling Robby's cheeks as he pushed the door open and let it swing shut with a loud thud behind him.
Jack was leaning against the roof's railing, both arms braced against the cold metal with tension lining his shoulders. He didn't bother turningâthere was only one person who knew to find him on the roof at this hour.
"What are you doing, brother?" Came Robby's gruff voice, partially swallowed by the early morning sounds from the city around them.
"Engaging in quiet contemplation. You?"
"Not what I'm talking about." Robby stopped beside his friend, resting his side against the railing with his hands in his pockets.
Jack shot him a side glance, "I have many talents; mind reading isn't one of them."
Robby raised his eyebrows, giving Jack a pointed look. "I'm talking about your resident."
"Crus? I've left him in charge for ten minutes tops, he can't have caused that much damage."
"Don't play dumb. It's not a good look on you."
"You're wrong, everything is a good look on me." Jack shot his friend a half smirk, the tension in his shoulders betraying his nonchalant behaviour.
Robby let out a frustrated scoff, growing tired of Jack's obvious deflecting. He straightened his posture and crossed his arms over his chest, showing his friend that he was serious.
"You know what's not a good look? Dragging your resident into empty patient rooms and massaging her fucking leg." Robby said, a sharp bite to his words.
Jack winced, dropping his head forward slightly. He didn't think word would get to Robby that fast.
"I'm just trying to help her." Jack grumbled, feeling like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "It's not a big deal."
Robby let out a loud incredulous laugh. "Tell her to go see a goddamn physio, Jack!"
Jack sighed and shook his head, growing frustrated at this conversation. Tell you to waste money seeing a physio? When he was more than willing to help, to provide the relief you need?
"I want to help her."
For a second, everything around them froze. The wind came to a halt, the sounds of early morning traffic dissipated. All that was distinguishable was the sincerity in Jack's voice, the conviction behind his words. And that's when Robby knew that thisâwhatever it was, whatever Jack was feelingâran deeper than what Lena had insinuated to him and Dana the day before.
Robby shook his head with a small, disbelieving laugh. "You're fucking screwed, my friend."
Jack twisted his wedding ring around his finger, trying to ground himself. He didn't want to accept his feelings for you, didn't want to unlock the door that was clearly labelled 'DANGER' in bright red letters.
"I'm moving her to the day shift."
Jack's reaction was instant.
He pushed off from the railing, crossing his arms over his chest and levelling a cold glare at Robby.
"No. She's my best resident." His tone was sharp, his annoyance bleeding through.
"It's just for a week, while Whitaker is visiting his family." Robby sighed as Jack stood strong, his shoulders moving in a shrug that said 'why should I care'. "You know we need all the help we can get on the day shiftâyou nightcrawlers can survive without her."
Jack didn't believe that for a second. He needed you on the night shift with himâneeded it like he needed air to breathe. The thought struck him deep in his chest, a cold realisation seeping into his bones.
Robby clapped him harshly on the back, throwing an arm over his shoulders as he pivoted them to walk to the rooftop door.
"You could be more gratefulâI'm saving your sorry ass from a gruelling trip to HR."
When Robby told you they needed you back on the day shift to cover for Whitaker you were hesitant at first. Not that you had much say in the matter, but the timing of it felt suspiciousâDana had just questioned you about the Abbot situation, and not even thirty minutes later Robby was pulling you aside for a chat about your schedule.
It didn't help that multiple pairs of eyes were not so subtly watching your conversation with your chief attending. You tried your best to not let your surprise show, offering Robby a small smile and a "no problem". One pair of eyes was harder to ignore than the othersâeyes that you fantasised about more often than not, eyes that you had to pinch yourself from getting lost in.
Eyes that followed you as you said goodbye to your colleagues, engaging in excited conversation with Mohan and McKay who were ecstatic to have you back on the day shift. Eyes that didn't care that their obvious staring had drawn unwanted attention.
Ellis was finishing up her notes on a patient, tablet in hand as she prepared to pass them off to Santos. She was watching her night shift attending with a small smirk on her faceâhis forlorn puppy dog expression making her disturbingly pleased. Santos let out a snicker beside Ellis, her own eyes clocking Dr. Abbot's yearning disposition.
Ellis turned to Santos, both sporting matching smirks on their faces with a mischievous gleam in their eyes.
"Want to start a new bet?"
Jack was furious with Robby.
Actually, he was angry with a lot of people lately. He was quicker to snap, his patience wearing thinâon track to lose his title of being the 'fun dad' of the PTMC Emergency Department.
Robby had told him that you were only going to be back on the day shift for one week, just to cover while Whitaker was away. It had been three weeks since Whitaker had returned to the Pitt, and you were still on the day shift.
The night shift had been surviving without you, though barely hanging on by a thread. The main issue they were having? Abbot's perpetual foul mood.
The only time the night shift ever saw a flicker of something warm cross their attending's face was during shift change. It had them all raising their eyebrows, looking at each other knowingly, and digging into their wallets.
"Thirty bucks on Abbot making a move after a paramedic hits on her." Shen murmured to the group gathered at the Hub during shift change, him and Ellis keeping watch in case you or Dr. Abbot appeared. He had witnessed a paramedic hit on you once before, right in front of Abbot. He thought he heard a bone in Abbot's hand fracture from how tightly clenched his fists were.
"Nah," Princess breathed out. "I'm putting twenty on them being together for at least a month."
Perlah hummed next to her. "You thinking they got together after that bad date?"
Dana peered at the group huddled at the counter over the top of her glasses. "Have you seen how he's pining after her? There's no way they're together."
Ellis let out a little whistle, the signal for one of you nearby. The group split off in different directions, Shen slipping a handful of cash into Ellis' hand as they passed each other.
Robby hummed from his spot next to Dana, eyebrows raised as he read over a chart. "You know you shouldn't be entertaining themâŠ"
Dana scoffed, her eyes tracking you as you stepped into Central nine. "You're one to talkâI heard you bet fifty on him confessing after she gets hurt."
"I bet twenty," Dana gave Robby a knowing look, raising her eyebrows at him. "What? I know my friend and I know his white knight complex."
"Yeah," Dana murmured quietly, "that's going to catch up to him one day." She gathered a stack of papers on the counter, stamping them down on the surface to straighten them. Her eyes flicked back up to Robby. "You really think he's going to do somethin' before she becomes an attending?"
Robby sighed, dragging a hand down the side of his faceâhis beard audibly scratching against his palm. "He stopped wearing his wedding ring a couple weeks ago. I think he's been holding himself back longer than he'd ever care to admit."
The first week you were on the day shift, Jack found himself walking into the ED twenty minutes earlier than he usually did. By the third week, he was standing at the Hub over an hour before shift change. He quickly found out his early arrivals were both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing because it was an extra hour he got to see you; to hear you laugh at something Princess said, to admire you as you cared for your patients, to be by your side the second you let out a wince.
A curse because Santos was hell bent on torturing him. He knew she was doing it on purposeâshe had a whole twelve hour shift to talk to you, to gossip about your personal lives, yet it seemed that whenever he was near you two all she wanted to talk about was your dating life.
"I know you're still pissed about Mark," Santos started, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you checked the board at the Hub. "Butâhear me outâthere's a pedes attending at Presby I want to set you up with."
Jack slowed down on the other side of the Hub, pulling up a random chart on a discarded tablet to act busy while his ears strained to hear the rest of your conversation with Santos. A pedes attending? Really?
You let out a disbelieving laugh. "You're joking, right? I am not going out with anyone you suggest ever again."
Santos groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "How many times do I need to apologise? I'm sorry, okayâI promise Ben is the real deal, he won't make you pay for anything."
You shrugged her arm off your shoulder, turning to face her with your arms crossed. "Wow, that's a real high bar you got there, Trin. I feel spoiled," you drawled sarcastically.
She held her hands up in defence. "Fine, don't believe me. You're the one who's going to be sorry you let a catch slip through your fingers."
Her eyes glanced over to the other side of the Hub, catching the way Abbot was standing still with rigid shoulders and a frown pulling at his face. She couldn't stop the small smirk twitching her lipsâhe was definitely listening.
"Garcia can vouch for him, they did their residency together." She watched, delighted, as your arms loosened, your mouth moving side to side like you were considering it. "And," she dragged out, "he's exactly your type."
You rolled your eyes, but the small bite to your bottom lip gave away your interest. "What, emotionally unavailable?"
You watched as Santos eyes lit up, a slow smirk taking over her face as she subtly nodded towards where Dr. Abbot was standing.
"Old."
A rush of heat crawled up your neck and you elbowed her in the ribs. "Shut up," you hissed with wide eyes.
"You two done gossiping over there?" Dr. Abbot's voice barked out. "I'm sure your patients would love to know they bled out because you were busy planning a date."
You whipped your head to the side, your shocked eyes meeting his cold glare. His hands were gripping the counter's edge, his eyebrows raised as he gave you a pointed look.
You scrambled under his attention. "Sorry, Dr. Abbot, won't happen again." You shot Santos a sharp look before turning on your heels and hurrying towards the North nurses station.
Santos jutted her hip out and crossed her arms over her chest, levelling her superior with a knowing look across the Hub.
"What's the matter? You jealous, Abbot?"
He straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back. Everything about his posture screamed composedâexcept for the muscle that flexed his jaw.
"Get back to work."
Trinity turned back to the board with a hum, satisfaction thrumming through her veins. She was definitely going to win the bet.
The torture didn't stop there. No, that would have been too easy. Instead, Jack had to hear more about your dating lifeâthis time at the end of a punishing twelve hour shift.
You were walking through the ambulance bay doors with Santos on your right and Mohan on your left. The three of you were fresh-faced in the early morning hours, each of you holding a cup of coffee in your hands. Jack's eyes were drawn to you instantly, catching the way the fluorescent lights brightened your eyes and highlighted the sleepy smile stretching your lips.
He was too busy getting lost in the mere sight of you to notice the sly look Santos threw his way.
"What is it that you like about older guys?" Trinity asked, nudging you with her elbow. Mohan let out a chuckle from your other side, suddenly finding her coffee very fascinating.
You shot Santos a bewildered look, your brows furrowing and mouth parting slightly. Before you could express your confusion, she continued.
"Is it the knee thing?"
"What?" You asked, a puzzled laugh lacing your words. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you bond with them over your upcoming knee replacements?" Santos asked with a cocky grin.
"Oh, shut up," you shove her shoulder lightly. "It's way too early for me to deal with your abuse."
The three of you reached the Hub, exchanging soft smiles and greetings with the night shift nurses. Your eyes flickered to Dr. Abbot briefly, his broad frame hard to ignore. He met your eyes for a second, giving you a small nod before turning to Lena.
"But seriously, I'm curious," Santos said, resting her elbows on the counter and cocking her head to the side. She didn't bother lowering her voice, gaining the attention of your colleagues scattered around the Hubâwhich, unbeknownst to you, was her full intention.
You narrowed your eyes at the mischievous smile on her face, a sense of dread tightening your throat. That look never meant anything good for you.
"How do you fuck your geriatric boyfriends when you've both got bad knees?"
A chorus of sounds echoed around the Hub.
Mateo snickered loudly behind his hand.
Samira let out a shocked gasp beside you.
Lena muttered, "oh dear."
Robby let out a long exhale, his mouth trembling in effort to not bark out a laugh.
"What the fuck, Trinity!" You exclaimed, slapping her arm harshly. Your response earned a few chuckles to sound out around you, causing the embarrassment you were feeling to clog your throat. Your wide eyes found Dr. Abbot's, his blank expression giving nothing away.
You quickly brushed past your amused coworkers, shoulder checking Santos on your way to the lockers. For a brief second, mortified tears blurred your vision. It was one thing for her to talk about setting you up on dates while working, but to make a joke about your sex lifeâin front of the unattainable attending she knew you had a crush onâwas a step too far.
Jack watched as you bolted through the ED, a mix of emotions storming within him. He was irate with Santos, jealous about whoever these 'boyfriends' were, and concerned about you. He caught the flicker of hurt that crossed your face at Santos' question, the panic in your eyes when you looked at him.
And, he couldn't ignore the desire pooling low in his gut. Because it was something he had thought aboutâwhat position would feel best for you, what would guarantee you the most pleasure without hurting your knee. And he knew that if he ever was lucky enough to have you writhing under him, he wouldn't give a fuck about his leg.
Whilst Santos' jabbing was uncouth, it did confirm one important thing for himâyou liked older men. Enough to want to fuck them.
That fact had his cock twitching in his scrub pants.
"You hear that, brother?" Robby murmured quietly, standing closer to Jack than he was a second before. "You might have a chance." Robby chuckled and gave Jack a pat on the shoulder before turning to the staff gathered at the Hub.
"Alright," he exclaimed, clapping his hands together once, "day shift, gather round."
The PTMC Emergency Department was a high stress, fast paced environment. You had seen multiple of your fellow coworkers take a tumble, faint from exhaustion, or be injured due to a patient's aggression. Every time it happened, Dana sternly directed them to the staff break room without fail. You had made it to your fourth year of residency without being dragged there once. That's not to say you didn't get injured, you just hid your pain better than othersâone of the pros of living with chronic pain for so long (or a con, depending on who you asked). You were just two months away from becoming an attending, and you were determined to keep the record for the least amount of injuries endured during your time at PTMCâeven if it was a record that you were the only one keeping track of.
Stupid Ogilvie and his lack of spatial awareness.
You let out a hiss as Dana pressed an ice pack against your knee. You were sitting at the small round table in the break room with your injured leg resting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
"Oh, hush, you big sook," Dana said with a small teasing smile. The faint line between her eyebrows gave away her concern, though.
A small rush of air left your noseâsomething that might've been a laugh if you weren't preoccupied with the unbearable throbbing in your knee.
Dana brushed a stray hair back from your forehead, fixing you with a pointed stare. "I need to get back out there or else the whole place is going to fall apart." She poked your forehead gently, "you need to stay put, missy. Understood?"
You nodded with a small pout. "Yes, understood. No more life saving today," you grumbled out.
"Good. If you need anythingâŠyou're Ogilvie's patient now," she said over her shoulder, throwing you a wink before closing the door behind her.
"I never want to see his face again," you mumbled petulantly to the empty break room.
With nothing else to do but sit, you grabbed the tablet off the table and started to catch up on chartingâor what you could catch up on without a hospital computer. Twenty minutes later you were groaning with your head in your hands, your good leg on the ground bouncing impatiently. Ten minutes of doing nothing and you were already bored shitless. You could hear the symphony of a busy ED calling to you through the closed doorâvoices shouting over one another, an urgent page being called over the speaker system, a child with a healthy set of lungs screaming.
Back in the ED, Jack was ripping off his blood soaked gloves in Trauma two. He had just finished performing a clamshell thoracotomy on his buddy Officer Riveria, who had been shot in the chest from crossfire during an armed bank robbery. Jack walked the short path towards Central, tearing off his SWAT vest and dumping it on a chair in the Hubâbarely paying any attention to Dana who scoffed at his appearance.
He could feel his t-shirt clinging to his skin uncomfortably, sweat soaking through to his SWAT uniform leaving visible patchesâwhich he couldn't care less about in that moment. He had been in the ED for half an hour already, and he had yet to hear your voice. It was unsettling.
Even during the most adrenaline inducing, hectic shifts he could still make out your voice above the noise. And last time he looked at the schedule, you were meant to be working the day shift.
"Hello to you, too," Dana mumbled, raising her eyebrows at Abbot's swivelling head.
"Hi," he glanced at her briefly before looking at the board, trying to see if you were assigned to any patients. "Where is she?"
Dana chuckled, shaking her head. Of course he noticed you weren't on the floor. "Who?"
Jack responded with your name quickly, just as McKay stopped next to him at the Hubâletting Dana know a patient was ready for discharge.
"Oh," McKay snorted, "Ogilvie knocked her down with a gurney earlier."
"What?" Jack seethed, levelling a glare at Danaâwhy wasn't that the first thing she said to him?
"Take it easy, soldier." Dana gave him a sharp look. "She's in the break room, she's fiâ"
Jack didn't wait to hear the rest of her sentence, darting through the ED in a rush to get to you. He flung the door open to the break room with force, making you look up at him with startled eyes.
"Dr. Abbot? What are you doing here?"
He ignored your question, making his way to you in two long strides and squatting down next to your injured leg. You watched as his nostrils flared and his jaw clenched tightly, an irritated huff leaving him. Your eyes wandered from his face to his shoulders, your eyebrows scrunching at his camo sleevesâwas he wearing fucking SWAT gear?
"What are you wearingâ"
"I'm going to fucking kill Robby," he seethed.
"Robby? What did he do?" You asked, your head swirling with more questions.
Dr. Abbot lifted the ice pack off your knee gently, drawing in a sharp breath at your red, swollen joint. His eyes snapped up to yours, a battle of concern and anger warring in the hazel depths.
"This wouldn't have happened if you were with me."
Jack realised his slip a second too late, watching your eyes widen in surprise at his words.
"If you were on the night shift," he mumbled quickly, his eyes darting back down to your injured leg.
A calloused finger pressed softly to the bottom of your knee, just below the swelling. A pained wince left you at the barely there touch.
"Fuck, sweetheart." Abbot whispered, his brows pulling together in worry. "This doesn't look good."
"I'm fine," you breathed out quickly, your heartbeat picking up at him calling you sweetheart again. "It's fine, it was an accident."
"It's not fine," he said sternly. "You're hurt."
"I've dealt with worse."
He let out a deep sigh, shaking his head at your stubbornness. He stood back upâhis leg twinging briefly in complaint. He took a few steps back, leaning against the kitchenette and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Alrightâif you say you're fine, stand up."
You met his raised eyebrows with a deadpan stareâyour bruised pride fighting against the desire to submit to him, to let him take care of you.
You sucked in a breath, lifting your injured leg off the chair and placing it on the floor hesitantly. The pull of gravity had your knee aching in an instant, the swollen joint throbbing incessantly. You tried to keep your face blank as you braced both hands on the table, using it to support yourself as you rose to your feet. You put all your weight on your good leg, and Dr. Abbot clocked it immediatelyâhis eyes glued to your legs as you tried to stand nonchalantly.
"Take a step."
That stupid stubbornness flared hot despite the agony you were in, not wanting someoneâespecially the attending you thought about obsessivelyâto take care of you. Well, the problem was how badly you wanted him to take care of you, and you refused to let that showâto be the damsel in distress.
You took a small step forward on your injured leg and crumbled in a second, trying to bite back a pained whimper and failing. Abbot was there before you could catch yourself on the table, one strong arm wrapping around your waist and a steady hand supporting your upper back.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he mumbled low, his body so close to yours that you could feel his voice rumble through you.
Jack stood still, relishing the feeling of you in his arms. Your breath was warm against his neck, your curves soft beneath his hands, and he could feel you leaning into him. It was fucked upâyou were injured, biting down your pain to try not be an inconvenience, and he wanted more. He wanted so much more.
Keeping his arm around your waist, he grabbed your bag hanging off the chair and hiked it up his shoulder. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, drawing your attention to the gun on his hipâ
What the fuck, since when was that there?
"What's your address?"
Your eyes snapped up to his face, your mind trying to process the sight of him in sweaty SWAT gear with a fucking handgun strapped to his hip. "Huh?"
He didn't look at you, thumb tapping on his phone. "I'm getting you an uber home. Give me your address."
"N-no, thank you, but Iâ"
He levelled you with a hard look, his eyes unrelenting. "This is not a discussion. Your address, now."
A thrill shot up your spine, his bossiness doing concerning things to your mind and body. You gave in, mumbling out your addressâyour body still actively aware of his thick arm wrapped around your waist, his warmth radiating through your clothes.
Jack grabbed your arm, slinging it over his shoulder and bringing you closer to his bodyâyour perfume and something uniquely you cutting through the antiseptic and settling in his chest. His body screamed at him to turn his head, to bury his nose in your hair and inhale your scent like it was oxygen. His hand on your waist gripped tighter.
"What are youâ" you started, shocked by his sudden closeness. The lines and freckles on his face were even more deadly this close.
"It's either this or I carry you. Your choice."
You slowly limped your way towards the door, consciously leaning as little weight on Dr. Abbot as possibleâworrying about the strain you were putting on his prosthetic leg. Pain shot through your knee with every step you took.
"That's not gonna do, sweetheart."
He pulled you closer to him, essentially lifting you with every step. It took the weight off your leg, and had your breath stuttering at his strength.
Heat flushed throughout your body as you neared the Hub, your head dropping to ignore the curious and teasing stares from your coworkers.
"Hey, prince charming!" Dana's voice called over the rush of the ED. "This isn't your dumping ground!" Both your heads turned to see her holding his SWAT vest, shaking it with a pointed look before swinging her arm back and throwing it.
The hand steadying your arm on his shoulder lifted, catching the vest with ease. He handed it to you without a word, your free hand clasping around the slightly damp fabric.
It felt like it took hours to get to the ambulance bay, all the eyes on you two making you feel like an animal on display at the zoo. As you reached the doors, you faintly heard Javadi's voice behind you.
"Why didn't he grab a wheelchair?"
The uber was already waiting and Dr. Abbot helped you in the backseat before rounding the boot and getting in the other side. The door slammed shut, leaving you enclosed in the small space with your devastatingly attractive attending and crush.
"What are you doing?"
He grabbed your bag off his shoulder and the vest from your hand, putting them on the floor in front of him. His fingers clasped around your injured leg gently, lifting it and resting it on his lap.
"Making sure you get home safe."
The twenty minute drive to your apartment was quiet, the soft music droning from the car's speakers the only noise filling the uber. Dr. Abbot's hands rested on your leg the whole time, his thumbs rubbing absentminded patterns on your scrub covered shin.
Your brain stopped functioning approximately two minutes after the car pulled away from PTMC, when the first slow circle of his thumbs started. Instead of feeling the throbbing pain of your knee, you felt a throb grow north of itâslow strokes of fire coursing up your leg and gathering at the apex of your thighs. It was embarrassing, how desperately your body reacted to him and he wasn't even touching your skin.
You stared out the window the whole ride, despite how badly all the cells in your body ached to look at himâto map the lines of his face, to catch the way the sunlight coming through the window highlighted his stubbled jaw and changed the colour of his eyes. God, his eyes. You wanted to get lost in them, to watch them shift from honey amber to sunlit greenâyou wanted to know what colour they shifted to when dark with hunger, when dilated pupils eclipsed the sunburst irises.
Jack tried to keep his gaze locked on the seat in front of him, distracting himself with counting every individual stitch in the fabric. This was the fifth time he had placed your leg in his lap, but it felt different than the times previous. Maybe it was the protective anger curdling his gutâhe had already drafted three carefully worded texts to Robby in his headâor the dangerous pull in his chest telling him that you were right where you belonged, next to him. All he knew was that the aching need to take care of you was now etched into his bones. Sitting next to you in the uber on the way to your place had nothing to do with him worrying about you as your attendingâhe was just a man needing to look after the woman he cared about deeply.
He couldn't stop his eyes finding the side of your face even if he triedâhe was a moth to a radiant flame. He stored more details away in the overflowing file cabinet with your name on it; how the sunlight made your hair glow, how your lashes fluttered as you fought off fatigue, how despite the exhaustion and pain shadowing your face you still looked beautifulâethereal. He wanted to worship at your altar.
Once the uber parked outside your building, he was quick to lower your legâhands oh so gentle, againâand grab the bag and vest off the floor. He was out of the car before you could blink, opening your door and helping you out of the car with the strong hands you fantasised about daily. He offered the driver a quick thank you and it struck you deep in the chestâsuch a simple, kind act that you had watched men fail to do time and time again.
Your arm was back over his broad shoulders, one of his securely wrapped around your waist. It only hit you then how badly your body had missed the warmth of his pressed against you. And then something more frighteningâexhilaratingâhit you: Dr. Jack Abbot was going to be in your apartment.
Your step faltered, your heartbeat picking up in terrorâor anticipation, only god knows.
"Thank you for your helpâfor the uberâbut you should goâ"
"No."
"Your shift is in a few hours, you should rest."
He let out a frustrated huff through his nose, turning his head to shoot you a hard lookâhis fingers on your waist tightening.
"Quit being stubborn and let me help you."
You opened your mouth to protest more, to say he's helped you enough, but the words died on your tongue before they had formed. You were sore and exhaustedâthat was the excuse you told yourself for letting your attending guide you into the building.
Your place was exactly how you left itâhalf a dozen medical textbooks littering your coffee table, your laptop still open on the dining table with sticky notes of varying colours covering the surface, a few dirty dishes stacked next to the sink. Your basket of clean underwear sitting on the couch waiting for you to put away. Because, of course the day Dr. Jack Abbot helps you home is your lingerie wash day.
Heat rushed up your neck as he helped you limp towards the couch, dumping his SWAT vest on the coffee table before grabbing the basket and putting it on the floor out of the way. You watched, intrigued, as red dusted along his neck and cheeks, his eyes looking everywhere but you.
His hand lingered on your waist as you sat down, before he cleared his throat and helped you get situatedâplacing a throw pillow under your injured knee and another behind your back. He started to take off your shoes, and it hit you at a dizzying speed how natural and domestic this all felt.
How nice it felt to have him in your home, taking care of you with no fuss. You can't remember the last time someone treated you with such careâthe few times you asked your exes for help with your knee pain they made you feel like a burden.
Having Abbot treat you so gently, so delicately, only made the butterflies storming in your stomach increase tenfold. You were starting to feel sick, overcome with dangerous emotions at the hands of your attending.
You dropped your eyes to your hands fidgeting in your lap. "Thank you again, Dr. Abbot. Forâ"
"Jack."
You looked up at him to find him already staring down at you. Your hands started to shake.
"What?"
His voice was soft, low. "When it's just you and me, it's Jack."
You heart decided to find a home in your throat. "OhâŠwell, I appreciate your help," you smiled up at him softly, "Jack."
In that moment, Jack knew he was done for. He had noticed you only ever called him by his doctor title or last name, and now he knew why. His name sounded like it was made to slip from your tongue, like everyone else before you had said it wrong. He had to be carefulâif you said his name with that little smile again, he was sure he would drop to his knees before you.
He stepped away from the couch, needing to do something else to distract his brain from the fantasy of you gasping out his name as he tasted you. He grabbed his vest and walked towards the kitchenâthe open plan layout allowing him to keep an eye on you still.
You watched as he removed his gun from its holster, checking the safety was on before pulling the clip out, disarming itâthe act alone sending a shiver racing up your spine. He didn't need to do that, but you figured he did it for your peace of mindâto ensure you felt safe in your own home. It had no right being that hot.
Your eyes landed on the gun and vest now sitting on your kitchen counter before you ran them over his sweaty uniform again, unconsciously biting your lip.
"So, you moonlight as aâŠSWAT medic?"
He started to look through your kitchen cabinets, pulling out a water glass. "My therapist said I needed a hobby."
"And all the men's shed's in Pittsburgh were at full capacity?"
He filled the glass with water, the side of his mouth quirking with a smirk. "Didn't meet the age requirement. I'll try again next year."
He brought the glass of water over to you, an amused glint in his eye.
"That where you scout for your dates? The men's shed?"
Your cheeks grew warm. "I am going to kill Santos," you muttered.
Your phone vibrated in your pocket and you pulled it out to see multiple texts from Santos. Speak of the devil.
Trin: (412) 858-5725
Trin: Ben's phone number
Trin: If your knight in sweaty swat gear doesn't make a move
You put your phone away quickly, grabbing the glass from the coffee table and taking a deep gulp to try soothe your nerves.
"Where do you keep your pain meds?"
Jack was still standing next to the couch, looking down at you with his hands in his pockets.
"There's a box under the bathroom sink," you told him. "First door on the left."
Jack returned less than a minute later, carrying your overflowing plastic container of pain medicationâan eyebrow raised in surprise.
"Should I be concerned you're going to start a meth lab with these?"
"Medical textbooks are ridiculously expensive."
He chuckled in response, putting the container on the kitchen counter and grabbing a handful of pills for you. You accepted them with a small thank you, watching as he sat on the small armchair diagonal to you.
He nodded towards the textbooks splayed out on your coffee table. "How's the studying going?"
An involuntary sigh slipped out of you. "It's going fine, I guess." His furrowed eyebrows prompted you to elaborate more. "I'mâbeing on the day shift, I'm struggling to find the time to study." You watched his jaw clench and you quickly backpedalled. "I mean, that's not an excuseâI'm not trying to blame being on the day shift! It's my own poor time management, Samira seems to be doing fine. I just think the night shift suited me moreâŠI miss youâit. I miss the night shift."
Your face was a furnace by the time you finally shut your mouth, refusing to look at Jack and instead glaring at the textbooks on the table like they had caused you grave pain.
"We miss you too."
Jack was struggling to control his breathing, feeling angry at Robby for keeping you off the night shift for the past month. Angry at himself for not pushing harder to keep you with him. It was obvious the day shift was not what was best for your well-being; here you were in front of him injuredâby a day shift internâ, exhausted from the long shifts, and barely finding the time to study for your attending boards. He would bet his good leg that the only thing in your pantry was packets of ramen.
He took the lull in conversation to look around your apartment properly, a faint smile curving his lips as he spotted the decorations and trinkets that were very you. Something fond gripped his chest at the photos on your bookshelf. There was one of you and Santos on a night outâtipsy smiles and arms slung over shouldersâanother of you and Ellis in your scrubs pulling the finger at the camera, and one on a higher shelf that had his heart tumbling.
It was of the night shift, everyone crammed into a small diner booth after a particularly rough shift. You two were sat next to each other, his head leaning back on the booth seat as he slept and your head turned to him with a soft smile on your face. He remembered the day it was takenâeveryone called him grandpa for a week afterwards for falling asleepâbut he didn't remember you looking at him like that. Like he hung the moon and the stars.
He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the emotion clogging it. He opened his mouth and said the first thing he thought of. "No cat?"
You lifted your head, looking at him quizzically. "I've never had a cat."
"What about the one we talked about?"
"Oh, that cat." You shrugged, "someone else adopted the little guy before I could."
"That sucks." And because his jealously won out over his logical mind when he was near you, he continued. "Does that mean you're still dating assholes?"
You laughed nervously, crossing your arms over your chest. "Do we have to talk about my sorry excuse of a dating life?"
Jack stayed quiet, not sure how to downplay his interest in your dating lifeâin you.
You sighed. "No, I'm not dating assholesâI'm not dating anyone at the moment, despite Trin's persistence."
Jack let out a gruff hum, feeling both pleased that you're not wasting your time dating and annoyed at the reminder of Santos' terrible matchmaking. "So I've noticed."
You winced. "Sorry, I'll tell her to stop talking about it at work. Not that she listens to anything I say, but it's unprofessional."
Jack dragged a hand along his scruff, tempted to tell you that it was the jealously souring his gut that bothered him, not the unprofessionalism.
"How's your knee?"
You shifted your injured knee on the pillow, relieved when you only felt a dull ache instead of sharp throbbing. "Stiff, but the meds are kicking in at least."
"Did you get that cream I recommended?"
You started to get up from the couch, lifting your leg and clenching your teeth when the pain came back."Yeah, but I can go get it. You've done more than enough, you shouldâ"
Jack was by the couch in less than a second, putting a gentle but firm hand on your shoulder to keep you seated. "If you tell me to go one more time, I swear to god."
 You looked up at him, your breath catching at his broad frame towering over you.
"I don't want you to think I'm a burden." Your voice was smaller than you would've liked, a crack lacing through.
Jack's heart fractured at your words, his walls starting to crash down. "You're not a burden to me. I want to help you."
The sincerity in his voice made yours shake. "Why?"
He took a deep breath. "For reasons I shouldn't say out loud."
Your heart stumbled before picking up, feeling like it was going to beat out of your chest.
"JackâŠ"
"Don't. Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you have no clue what you do to me."
But, you didn't know what you did to him. This was the first time you were aware he might've shared a fraction of the feelings you had for him.
"Let me take care of you and then I'll go, okay?"
You gulped, now feeling unsure of where you stood with your older attending. You gave him a small nod.
"Okay."
He stepped back, looking both satisfied and torn at your response. "Good."
"The cream, it's in my bedroomâbut I'll go get it."
"No, you can't even walk by yourself. Stay there, I'll get it." He raised an eyebrow at the panicked look on your face. "Unless, you don't want me in your bedroom. You hiding dead bodies in there or something?"
That got a small laugh out of you, and he felt his shoulders relax the slightestâsome of the tension from his almost confession dissipating.
Jack Abbot in your bedroom was a thought you had way too frequently, but that wasn't what had you stubbornly trying to stop him from getting the pain relief cream. It was because you knew the cream was in your nightstandâthe same one your small collection of vibrators were in.
You were an adult. Owning a vibrator or two was normal. Jack was also an adult, you're sure he's seen sex toy's before. So, you sucked in a breath and put your big girl pants on.
"No, it's fine. I justâthe cream's in the top drawer of the nightstand on the left."
Jack found your bedroom easily in your small apartment, your perfume and scent hitting him hard as soon as he pushed the door open wider. He stood still for a second, breathing in a deep lungful and feeling himself get even more addictedâif that was possible. He beelined for the nightstand, opening it and finding the cream he had recommended to you what felt like a lifetime ago. His hand faltered, his gaze finding the toys next to the creamâsticking out like a sore thumb. Your hesitation about him coming into your room suddenly made complete sense.
His cock twitched in his pants at the sight of them alone, and his traitorous mind didn't take long to supply him with the fantasy of you using the toys on yourselfâlaid out on your bed in front of him, listening to his commands as he told you how to fuck yourself.
He adjusted himself in his pants, shaking his head to try rid himself of the thoughts before walking back into your lounge.
You watched as Jack came back with the cream in hand, nerves tightening your throat at the deep red covering his neck and cheeks. He definitely saw the vibrators.
He didn't say a word, just waved the cream at you and sat on the other end of the couchâmoving the pillow under your leg aside so he could move closer and rest your leg in his lap. Despite this not being the first time he's helped with your knee, it felt entirely different. Maybe it was his half confession lingering in the air, or the fact that you've been wound tightly for so long. Either way, the first touch of his fingers on your bare skin as he rolled your scrub pant over your knee had your core clenching desperately, embarrassingly.
The late afternoon sun streamed through your sheer curtains softly, painting your apartment in a dreamy haze that softened the edges of your mind. Neither of you spoke, the soft sounds of your breathing filling the room. His touch was featherlight on your knee, gently prodding to assess your painâhis intense gaze never leaving your face.
The first slide of the cream on your inflamed joint offered a small reprieve, a small sigh leaving your lips.
"This okay?"
You nodded, staring down at his hands on your legânoticing the absence of his wedding ring. They drifted higher, rubbing the cream into the tight thigh muscles above your knee. A gasp slipped from you as his fingers pressed deeper, rolling a knot that had formed due to the tension from your injury.
Your eyes flicked up from watching his hands, finding his glued to your parted lips. They stayed there for a second longer before meeting yours and your breath caught in your throat. You could see where the amber bled into green, the faint blue ring on the edge of his irises. You watched his pupils dilate, his eyes darkening like a storm rolling through a forest.
Your eyes dropped to his lips, the soft light highlighting the stubble framing his face and making the cupids bow on his top lip stand outâlooking incredibly enticing and kissable.
You both leaned in slowly, the thread between you pulling tighter. His breath brushed against your lips and the tension you'd been harbouring for monthsâyears, evenâsnapped. You closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in what you wanted to be a tender kiss but was anything butâyour desperation bleeding out of you.
He breathed in through his nose sharply, his hands on your thigh tightening before he returned your kiss slowly. One of your hands bunched the fabric of his SWAT top, the other sliding up the back of his neck and finding its place in his silver curls. You pulled him closer, kissing him with more urgency.
A moan rumbled in Jack's throat at the feeling of your hand tugging his hair, and he brought a hand up to cup your jawâlosing himself in the press of your soft lips against yours. His hand on your thigh gripped tight and pulled you closer, briefly forgetting that you were in pain.
He sucked your bottom lip between his, nibbling on the plump flesh and drawing a soft whimper out of youâyour hips trying to rock despite the awkward position of you half pulled onto his lap.
The sound had Jack's cock jumping eagerly, still half hard from thinking about you fucking yourself with your toys. His hand on your jaw slipped to grasp the back of your neck, tilting your head back. His tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened for him without hesitation. The first caress of your tongue's against each other drew matching, low moans from both your chests.
You felt your core grow wetter and you needed more, your hand fisting his top travelling down to slide under his layers of clothes and touching his solid, yet soft, abdomen.
The feeling of your hand touching his skin had reality crashing down on Jack, making him pull away from your lips with visible effort. Your mouth chased after his with a small whine, the hand in his curls trying to yank him back to you.
"We shouldn't," he panted, his breath hot against your lips.
"Please," you whispered, not caring how desperate you sounded.
He dropped his forehead to your collarbone, a shaky moan leaving him at how needy you sounded and the intoxicating scent of you wrapping around him.
"You're injured, I'm your attending, this isâ"
You grabbed his hand clutching your thigh, dragging it up until his fingers grazed your scrub covered core. All logic and reasoning faded from his mind as he felt the heat radiating through your clothes. He was shocked for a brief moment, that your aching need for him matched his own for you.
"Touch me, please. Make me feel good."
Jack thought he had died and gone to heavenâthose sweet words whispered into his ear sounding even better than he had dreamed.
"Fuck," he breathed into your scrub top, his hand moving and cupping your core. A gasp shot out of you and you ground your hips against his hand.
His head lifted and he peppered light kisses on the side of your neckâhis stubble scratching your skin lightly. You pushed his head harder into your neck, desperate for him to take more. He let out a chuckle at your eagerness.
"You always this needy?"
His teeth sinking into your neck stole any response you may have had, a moan leaving your lips instead. His kisses grew in confidence, his mouth leaving trails of spit across your skin as he relished in the sounds he was pulling from you. His hand on your core moved, his palm pressing harder against your clothed clitâyour hips rocking faster in response.
You pulled his head from your neck, his dark eyes meeting yours before he lunged for your mouth, his kisses turning punishingâteeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, stubble scratching and burning your skin.
The warmth in your core transformed into a raging fireâyou had never been this turned on by a kiss before. You could feel slick oozing from your cunt, your underwear sticking to your core where his hand was moving against you. You were sure you were leaking through your scrubs, and you might've been embarrassed if it weren't for the lust lighting up your body.
Jack pulled back, his hand stilling against you causing you to let out a displeased whine. He looked down at his hand, an expression of awe on his face as he saw his palm with a light sheen of wetness and the dark patch on your pants.
"You're wet." He said, like it was a miracle.
You nodded, both hands gripping his jaw to pull his lips back to yours. He turned his head, still looking at his hand in amazement. It had been a long time since he last touched a woman, but he didn't remember them getting this wet from some kissing and light groping.
Your lips found his neck, lavishing the wrinkled and freckled skin with the same attention he gave you. You bit along his jaw gently, soothing the bites with a wet glide of your tongue. His chest vibrated with a deep groan and you doubled your efforts, sucking on a spot below his ear. The sounds he was making made you even more wet, small whines getting stuck in your throat as your need for him ricocheted.
"Fucking hell, sweetheart." He groaned, his dick starting to leak from your mouth on his neck and the little sounds you let out. "You're gonna make me come in my pants if you keep doing that."
His words stroked the fire in you higher, your nerves singing with pleasure at the fact you were unravelling him just as he was you.
He pulled you away from him and stood up, watching as your hazy eyes blinked up at him unfocused, a small frown pulling your kiss swollen lips down.
He hooked an arm around your back and the other under your thighs, lifting you off the couch.
"Jack, your legâ"
"Is fine. Let me do this."
He ignored the strain on his amputated leg, carrying you the short distance to your bedroom. He laid you down on your bed gently, taking extra care to not jostle your knee.
You sat up on your elbows, biting your lip as he stood at the edge of your bedânot moving, just staring down at you with his mouth slightly agape.
"You have no idea how long I've thought about this. How long I've spent wanting you."
Your chest stuttered at his admission, heat licking up your spine at the raw want in his voice.
He leaned down, placing his hands either side of your head and kissing you slowly, tenderly. Your hands settled in his curls, your lips responding in kindâyour chest aching with something far more dangerous than need.
He trailed kisses down your jaw and neck, nuzzling his nose into the junction where your neck met your shoulder and inhaling deeply. An almost pained groan tore from his throat and it made you arch up into him in need.
His hands gripped your hips and lifted you further up the bed, your head resting on your pillow. His thumbs rubbed on the sliver of bare skin your bunched scrub top exposed, his questioning eyes meeting yours. You lifted your arms up before he could ask, and he pulled the fabric over your headâthrowing it somewhere behind him.
His eyes dropped to your chest and he licked his lips, his hand slipping behind your back to undo your bra clasp. He pulled your bra straps down your shoulders slowly, like he was unwrapping a delicate present.
"Jack," you breathed out, impatience lacing your tone.
He dropped his head, kissing along the swell of your breasts.
"Didn't know my name could sound so sweet until you said it." He mumbled into your skin.
He finally pulled your bra away, throwing it in the same direction as your top. He sucked in a sharp breath at your exposed breasts, his eyes closing briefly as he gathered himself.
"You're beautiful."
Then he latched onto one of your nipples, sucking lightly and pulling a gasp from you. A large hand cupped your other breast, his thumb rubbing circles around your nippleâthe dual simulation making fire sprint down your abdomen to your core. Your hips rocked underneath him, and he chuckled at your desperationâthe sound vibrating through your body.
Your hands found the hem of his SWAT top and pulled, wanting to see the thick muscle he hid underneath scrubs. His touch left you for a second as he pulled his top off, exposing the black t-shirt underneath. And you swear you'd never seen a simple t-shirt look so hot before. It was tight around his bulging biceps, his muscular abdomen pressing through the fabric. You only had a second to ogle before he was stripping it off as well, leaving you with a sight you had only dreamed about.
The only word in your head at that moment to describe Jack Abbot was thick. You knew he was big, but seeing it without clothes felt surreal. You ran your hands over his bare chest, marvelling at the muscles jumping beneath your touch. His skin was dusted in freckles, a patch of light hair covering his chest that was soft under your fingers. His shoulders were broad and your jaw ached to cover the sturdy flesh with bites.
You gripped his shoulders and pulled him down, your lips meeting in a desperate kiss that had you both moaning. Your hands travelled down his shoulders to his back, pulling his bare chest down to meet yours. The feeling of his pecks against your breasts had you sucking his bottom lip with need.
You slid a hand down his bulky abdomen, revelling in his body jerking under your hand. You dipped a finger in the waistband of his camo pants, pulling slightly before moving your hand down and cupping his hard cock through the fabric. The feel of him had your core clenchingâhe was big, bigger than you had ever taken. It sent a thrill coursing through you and you gripped him harder.
"Shit," he hissed, grasping your hand and pulling it away from him. "Not today, sweetheart. It's all about you now, okay?"
He kissed down your chest, lavishing at your breasts again and you let out an impatient whine, pushing his head down to where you needed him most.
"Stop teasing."
You could feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "But you sound so pretty."
He sucked harshly on your nipple, pulling it between his teeth and biting down. Your hips shot off the bed with a gasp, your knee throbbing from the sudden jolt but you didn't care. He repeated his ministrations on your neglected nipple beforeâfinallyâ his kisses travelled down your stomach and stopped at the waistband of your scrub pants.
His lips sucked light marks along your lower stomach and hips, his fingers toying with your waistband and dipping under before tracing the marks his mouth left.
"Jack, please." You whined, your need echoing in your quiet room.
"You sound so good begging, baby."
He pulled away, hooking his fingers around your pants and underwearâslowly pulling them down your legs like he had all the time in the world. A groan rumbled out of him at the sight of your slick clinging to your underwear, a line keeping them connected to you until they reached your knees. He doesn't think he's seen anything hotter.
He was careful pulling your pants down over your injured knee, pressing a light kiss to your inflamed skin before your pants were finally off of you. He grabbed a spare pillow near your head, propping it under your knee and adjusting you so you were comfortably spread open with no weight bearing down on your knee. He kept his eyes on your face the whole time, checking for any hint of discomfort.
"You tell me if it starts to hurt, okay?"
You nodded in response.
"Words. I need words, sweetheart."
"Yes, I'll tell you, Jack. Just touch me already, please."
His eyes left your face, travelling down your heaving body and ending at your core. Your need was glistening all over your mound and a moan vibrated through him at the sight. He brought a hand to your core, his fingers lightly trailing down your wet slit making your hips jump off the bed. His other hand pressed flat against your lower stomach, his weight holding your hips down.
"You're fucking soaked. This all for me?"
You nodded quickly, your breaths coming quickâpent up from months of wanting and his merciless teasing.
"Yeah? I get you this wet?"
"Yes, Jackâonly you. Been wet since I saw the SWAT uniform." The confession slipped from you, need obliterating your filter.
His face morphed into a shit-eating grin. "That right, pretty girl? I'll make sure to wear it more often."
He pulled away from you and you groaned in annoyance.
"What the fuck, Jack!"
He chuckled at your impatience, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. He sat on the edge of your bed, quickly pulling the leg of his pants up to take off his prosthetic leg and leaning it against your bed. He turned back to you, lowering himself between your legsâthe feeling of his breath against your core making your thighs twitch.
"Just getting comfortable. No more teasing, promise."
And then he was licking a long strip up your dripping slit, his dark eyes holding your gaze captive. You threw your head back, a sigh of relief leaving you. One of his hands gripped the thigh of your injured leg, keeping you steady as the other pressed down on your lower stomach again. He licked torturous and slow, his eyes closing as he made out with your lower lips.
"Taste so fucking good, better than I imagined." He moaned into your core, eliciting a gasp from you.
Your hands found his soft curls, gripping tight as he feasted on you. You tried rocking your hips to chase the friction but his strong hand kept you still, making you whine pathetically.
His tongue found your clit, alternating between flicking it and drawing circles around it. Fire built up in your core quickly, gasps of his name and please falling from your lips.
Jack's cock was painfully hard, precum leaking and dampening his pants as he listened to the sweet noises you let out because of him. He knew this was going to be ingrained in his brain foreverâyou panting beneath him, all desperate and needy, his taste buds overloaded with your delectable nectar. You were better than any drug and he was irrevocably hooked.
His tongue dipped down to your entrance, circling it twice before plunging inside your walls. Your core clenched down at the intrusion and he moaned into your coreâdelicious vibrations spreading up to your clit.
"Yes," you gasped, hips trying to chase the pleasure his mouth was unleashing. His tongue started to thrust in and out of you and a hand left his hair to grip his hand on your stomach. "Please, feels so good."
Obscene slick sounds filled your room, your core drenched from your arousal and Jack's spit. His tongue went back to your clit, the hand on your thigh moving up and tracing light fingers around your entrance. Jack watched in hunger and fascination as your core clenched in anticipation.
"You want my fingers? Be a good girl and tell me how bad you need them."
Your whole body lit up at him calling you a good girl. You opened your eyes to see him already staring at you, his gaze heavy and hungry.
"Yesâfuck, pleaseâJack I need them so badly. Want you to fuck me with them, please."
You didn't need to beg for long, one of his fingers dipping into you and curling against your walls. A moan slipped out at you, your walls clamping down on the single digit.
"Fuck, you're tight." He moaned into your clit, sucking it into his mouth harshly. You let out a wanton moan, your hips pushing against his hand holding you down. Another finger slipped inside you and he pushed them deeper, thrusting them against the spongy spot that no other man cared to find. You mewled, embarrassingly needy as a familiar tension built in your core.
"Oh my god, right there," you moaned out and his fingers picked up their speed, curling to stroke against that spot over and over. A third finger joined in and your eyes shot open at the stretch. His mouth doubled down on your clit, sucking harshly and nibbling gently.
"You gonna come for me?"
Incoherent babbling spilled from youâhis name, please, and fuck being the only words your brain seemed capable of forming.
Jack was grinding his hips on your bed, feeling like a teenager ready to bust from the first moan that you let slip free. His cock was pulsing in his pants, so close to coming already.
"Yeah, that's a good girl. Come on my fingers."
The hand on your stomach pressed harder and the tension in your core shifted, still familiar but also differentâtight and overwhelming. One last sharp suck to your clit had you soaring off the edge, your whole body tensing and head throwing back as pleasure rushed through you like a roaring fire. You came with a loud cry of his name, your ears ringing and white spotting your vision. You felt wetness gushing from your cunt, warm and stickyâamplifying and drawing out your release until it bordered on painful.
Jack groaned against your core as you gripped his fingers tight, sucking them in deeper as you squirted over his face, his hand, your bedsheets. Your fingers in his hair pulled as you panted and heaved beneath him. He pulled his mouth off your clit, moaning out your name as he spilled in his pantsâyour release making him come untouched. He continued moving his fingers inside you, drawing out your orgasm with his eyes focused on where release was squirting out of you with every thrust of his fingers.
"Good girl. You did so good."
Your fingers in his hair trembled, yanking softly as you tried to squirm away from his touch. "It's too much, Jack." You whined and he finally relented, drawing his fingers out of you with a loud, sinful pop. Your half open eyes met his, watching through a hazy fog as he lifted his soaked fingers to his mouth and sucked them cleanâa deep groan tearing through him and you almost moaned at the sight.
He kissed up your body slowly, sucking and biting on a nipple and drawing a yelp out of youâyour overstimulated body shaking underneath him.
"That was fucking incredible," he whispered into your neck, sounding starstruck. "You're incredible."
You giggled softly, his stubble tickling your neck. "That was all you." One of your hands brushed along the broad expanse of his shoulders, the other toying with the curls at the top of his neck. "I've never done that before," you admitted in a small and dazed voice.
He continued to nibble on your neck. "What, hook up with your boss or squirt?"
You slapped his shoulder lightly. "Both."
"Pleasure was all mine, sweetheart."
He removed his head from your neck, soft eyes gazing into yours before he leaned in and kissed you sweetly. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling your chest to his as he kissed you deeplyâpouring everything he couldn't say yet into the kiss.
He pulled back, his eyes roaming around your face trying to memorialise this moment in his brain. He caught sight of the clock on your nightstand, a frustrated groan vibrating his chest as he saw he had to be at work in just over an hour. He dropped his forehead to yours for a few seconds, before pushing himself off of you with pained effort.
"I gotta go get ready for work. Iâuh, need to clean myself up."
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before looking down, finally spotting the dark wet patch on his camo pants.
"Oh."
He put his prosthetic leg back on, standing and looking back at you still naked on your bedâspread out and glistening in your own release. He quickly walked to your bathroom, grabbing a clean towel from the cupboard and wetting it in the sink. He returned to your room, hit with the overwhelming smell of youâyour perfume, your natural scent, your release. It had him debating calling in sick to lay tangled in the sheets with you, making you feel good until you passed out.
He cleaned you up gently, the soft press of the damp towel on your sensitive cunt making you twitch and flinch away.
"Easy, baby. Almost done."
He pressed a kiss to your forehead once he was done, a thumb brushing across your cheek.
"Okay, now I really have to go or Robby will send out a search party."
You bit your lip, your come down leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "WhatâŠwhat does this mean?"
Jack didn't want to leave you alone, the uncertainty in your eyes making his chest ache. "We'll talk about it properly later, yeah? Just rest nowâI'll order you some food."
He grabbed you some pyjamas out of your dresser, leaving them folded next to you on the bed. He left you with instructions on how to look after your kneeâdespite your insistence that you had been living with the pain for over a decade and you were a doctor as well, you knew how to take care of your injury.
After your front door clicked softly behind him you stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, your mind still not comprehending that you had hooked up with Jack Abbotâand he had made you come harder than you ever have in your life. So much was still left unsaid, but there wasn't a cold ache in your heart like you expected at the uncertainty. You trusted Jack, and you trusted that he wouldn't leave you spiralling for too long.
Just after seven pm your phone lit up with a text from Robby.
Robby: You're back on the night shift once your knee is better. Rest up.
A smile took over your face, a sigh of relief leaving you. You knew Jack was responsible for the shift change, and it had warmth spreading through your body from your chest.
Not even twenty minutes later, your screen flashed with texts from Trinity.
Trin: DID YOU AND ABBOT FUCK
Trin: Don't even try to lie to me
You: We didn't fuck
Trin: Then why is he smiling like he won the lottery
Your lips stretched into a grin.
You: Maybe he did?
Trin: Tell me what happened right now
Trin: I'm gonna be pissed if Robby won the bet
You: What bet, Trinity?
Trin: Shit gotta go! Someone's dying
You: Someone is always dying. Did you guys make a bet about Jack and I?
Trin: SMS ERROR: The phone number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.
Trin: âŠdid you just call him Jack?!?!?!?
You were drafting a profanity filled response to her when a text from Jack came through.
Abbot: Dinner is 10 minutes away. Hope Vietnamese is all good.
Abbot: Ice your knee afterwards.
You didn't see Jack for seven days after that. He text you throughout the week, checking in and assuring you that you would talk but not over the phoneâthat you deserved more than that. The swelling in your knee eased by day three, and by day six it barely hurt anymore. You were under strict orders to not even think about the hospital, and you only left your apartment to go for walks around your neighbourhoodâyou didn't even go to the grocery store, there was no need to when Jack arranged groceries to be delivered to your front door.
He called you a couple times after a long shift, just wanting to listen to your voice as he struggled to sleep. He sat on the phone while you studied for your boards, giving his input when you started to ramble and spiral about a topic you thought you didn't understandâto which he reminded you that you were one of the most capable residents he'd seen walk through the PTMC doors. His confidence in you helped with the spiralling, and only made your need for him build to dizzying heights.
Neither of you brought up what happened at yours, both silently agreeing that it was a face to face conversation. It didn't stop you from thinking about it every night though, about him. You didn't ask him to come over before or after his shifts, not wanting to come on too strong despite how badly you wanted to see him again.
It was on day seven of not seeing him that you said fuck it. You were basically climbing the walls by that point, growing restless from doing nothing but sitting and studying and dreaming about all the ways Jack could fuck senseless. You knew it was his first scheduled day off in two weeks and while you should've let him rest, the demon he had unlocked inside of you didn't care.
You made it to mid afternoon before you sent him a text.
You: Hey, you busy?
Jack: No. What's up?
You: Think you could come over so we can have that talk?
Jack: I'll be there in 30.
True to his word, Jack knocked on your door twenty-eight minutes later with a takeout bag in his hand.
"Hey, I got us some sandwiches from the new deli onâ"
You didn't give him time to finish, yanking on his sweatshirt's collar and dragging his lips down to yours. A shocked noise sounded in the back of his throat before he responded in earnest, his free hand wrapping around you waist and pulling you into his body. He staggered into your apartment, blindly closing the door behind him as you kissed him with a bruising intensity.
He pulled back to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You moved your mouth to his neck, sucking and nipping his neck as the desperation you'd been feeling for the past week clawed at your chest and core. You slipped your hands under the hem of his sweatshirt, relishing in the heat of his bare skin beneath it.
"Slow down, sweetheart." He chuckled, his hand moving from your waist to grip your jaw and pull you back. You let out a small whine, your brows furrowing in annoyance. "Did you ask me to come 'round for a booty call?"
You huffed. "NoâI mean yes, but I wanted to talk too." You stepped back from him, feeling a drop of embarrassment for how you pounced on him. You took the takeout bag from his hand, offering him a soft smile. "Thank you for getting food."
"Of course."
He followed you as you made your way to the kitchen, putting the food on the counter and turning back to him with a sheepish expression.
"Thank you for everything this past week. The groceries, the late nightâfor youâstudy sessions. ItâŠmeans a lot."
He stepped forward, resting his hands on your hips before pulling you into a hugâhis strong arms wrapping around your back making you melt into his embrace. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you nuzzled into his neck with a soft, content hum.
"Anything for you, sweetheart." He mumbled into your hair. Your heart soared in your chest.
He felt the tension from the last week dissipate from his body now that you were back in his arms. He hadn't realised just how stressed he was until that moment.
He pulled back slightly, keeping an arm wrapped around your back as a hand cupped your jaw. He leaned in, kissing you softly before resting his forehead against yours.
"Hi."
You giggled in response. "Hi."
"I haven't stopped thinking about you, about this."
Your hands gripped his curls, pulling him down for another bruising kiss. His hands slid down your back before resting on your ass, giving it a light squeeze and making you sigh into his mouth. You traced your tongue along his lips and he opened willingly, his moan ringing throughout the kitchen as he tasted you again. You pushed your hips flush to his, grinding against the hard length you could feel growing in his pants.
You whimpered into his mouth. "Please, I need you."
He pulled his mouth back from yours an inch, his hands still groping and squeezing your ass. "Thought we were gonna talk?"
"After."
He laughed, the wrinkles on his face deepening. "You're a little minx, you know that?"
"Only for you."
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" He pressed a kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw, a line down your throat. "I heard you've got a thing for old men."
You sighed, tilting your head back to give him better access. "Thought I did, but I think it's just a thing for you."
He groaned against your throat. "You can't just that, baby."
"Why not?"
Jack's mouth moved to your ear, catching your lobe between his teeth and tugging. "Makes me want to skip the talking." He whispered low into your ear, your body wracking with shivers.
"Jack Abbot, you're a goddamn tease."
He pulled back fully, hazel eyes swirling with desire locking onto yours. "If we do this, it changes everything. I'm notâyou're it for me. I'm not letting go of you."
"Fine by me."
He smiled, shaking his head lightly before diving back down to kiss you. He walked you backwards through your apartment, leading you to your bedroom like he had done it a thousand times before.
"How's the knee?" He mumbled against your mouth, pushing you back against your bedroom door once he closed it.
"Better. Swelling's gone, minimal pain."
He pulled back, squinting his eyes at you. "And you wouldn't be lying to me?"
"Never."
His mouth quirked up, an appraising look in his eyes. "Good girl."
A whimper slipped out of you and his eyes lit up.
"You like that? You like when I call you a good girl?"
You nodded, one of your hands gripping his shoulder and the other slipping into his curls. He gave you a peck on the lips before moving down to kiss your neck, mouthing at the spot below your ear that had you unleashing sighs and soft moans. One of his thick thighs slotted between your legs, pressing against your core and making you dizzy.
His hands grasped your hips, dragging you back and forth on his strong thigh. Your hips followed his lead, sparks shooting throughout your body from your clit. You could feel the wetness starting to leak out of you, making the friction even more delicious. Breathy pants and sighs slipped from your lips, your hips rocking faster as your body lit up under his touch. His fingers pressed harder into your hips, grunts tickling the skin of your neck as he got achingly hard from you getting yourself off on his thigh.
"Yeah, like that, pretty girl."
He latched his mouth onto your pulse point, sucking hard and making your head drop with a thud against the door.
"Jack," you breathed out. "Please."
"Tell me what you need."
Your hand on his shoulder trailed down the front of his sweatshirt, landing on his hard bulge and squeezing. His broken moan sounded in the quiet room.
"You. Fuck me, please."
"You need it that bad, huh?"
You nodded eagerly, giving him another squeeze before his hand gripped your wrist and pulled it away.
"Shitâyeah, okay. I'll give you what you need."
He spun you around, walking you towards the bed and pulling your top off. He let out a groan as he saw you were braless, your already hard nipples ready for him to feast on. He pushed you down to sit on the bed, pulling his sweatshirt over his head. Your hands grasped the waistband of his pants, trembling with anticipation as you worked the button open and zipper down. His hands found yours, pulling them away from him and you huffed in annoyance.
He moved his hands to the waistband of your leggings and pulling them down slowly. You fought back the frustrated groan working it's way up your throatâyou didn't need his slow hands, you wanted him to fuck you dumb.
He ran a finger down your underwear, a damp spot already formed. He pressed down on it, earning a soft moan from you and his cock twitched in his pants. His finger moved faster, more slick soaking your underwear and he became addicted to the sightâaddicted to the way your hips moved forward eagerly. He gripped both hands around the fabric and pulled them down your legs, much to your relief.
"No foreplay. Trust me, I'm already wet enough." Your desperate voice sounded out, your hands making their way back to his pants. He let you pull his pants and boxer briefs down to his knees, your wide eyes latching onto his cock as it sprung free against his stomach.
You were right. He was really well hung; thick and long, curving slightly to the left. You felt your mouth watering, wanting nothing more than to choke and drool on his length. Maybe next time.
"Did you pop a viagra before you came over?" You teased, your lips curving into a smirk as your eyes met his.
He squinted at you, giving your thigh a light smack. "Watch it, sweetheart."
Your nerves sang from his smack, and you felt the strong urge to roll over onto all fours and ask him to slap you againâthough you knew he would just flip you back over because of your knee.
He toed his shoes off before pulling his pants off all the way, giving you a good look at his stupidly big thighs and his prosthetic leg. Your breath caught at him standing fully naked before youâhe was beautiful; his freckles, wrinkles, and scars telling you a story of a long life that you hoped you would continue to be a part of.
"Don't need a little blue pill when I've got you. Just need to think of you and I'm already half hard."
"That was strangely sweet."
He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. One of your hands found his cock, using the precum leaking from the tip as lube to slowly drag your hand up and down his length. He groaned into your mouth, his hips jerking forward into your touch.
He pushed at your shoulders, encouraging you to lay back on the bed with your legs dangling off the edge. He grabbed a pillow, slotting it under your hips so they were tilted up.
"I'm gonna take the leg off, okay?"
"Whatever is comfortable for you, I really don't mind."
He took his prosthetic off, the process quick and like second nature. He rested his amputated leg on the bed beside your thigh. "There might be a bit of adjusting, but we just need to communicate. That okay with you?" You nodded your agreement.
He leaned over you, one hand next to your head as the other came up to squeeze your breast and roll your nipple between his fingers. He kissed you passionately, his tongue slipping into your mouth and stubble scratching your skin. You moaned into his mouth, grabbing his cock and tugging it slowly, teasingly.
His kisses grew sloppy as your pace picked up before he pulled back, resting his head on your collarbone.
"You got a condom?" His warm breath elicited goosebumps across your skin.
"I'm on the pill. And clean."
His cock jumped in your hand at your insinuation and he stood back up to get a good look at you. His sweet girl laid out on her bed before him, telling him he could fuck her raw. Yeah, he was pretty sure he had died and gone to heavenâor hell, either worked.
"You sure?"
"Please," you breathed out, dark and lidded eyes gazing up at him desperately.
"Fuck, don't know how I got so lucky."
He brought his cock to your soaked core, dragging it back and forth with easeâthe tip catching on your clit making you gasp. He repeated the motions until you were writhing under him, pretty mouth falling open and moaning out his name.
"Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me." He rasped out, his control thinning by the second.
"God, I want this so badly. I want youâI have for so long, please." You whined, snapping his restraint.
He grabbed your legs, resting your ankles on his shoulders in the butterfly position. He gripped your hips before he brought his tip to your entrance, captivated by your tight hole clenching at the slight press of him. He pushed in slowly, a guttural moan leaving him as your walls gripped tightly.
"Shitâfuck, you're tight."
You let out a whine, your cunt stretching to accommodate his girth. Your chest heaved with heavy pants, your core lighting up with pleasure and only half his length was in you. Your hands found his forearms, your fingers digging in as he pressed into you more. A wail left you once he was fully in, your walls clenching impossibly tight. You both stayed still for a few seconds, both your staggered breaths filling the room. You squeezed around him and he let out a pained groan.
"That'sâyou feel so fucking good."
"Move, please." You begged.
He pulled his hips back, leaving just the tip in before he thrust back in harshly.
"Fuck!" You yelled, his cock hitting against your sweet spot perfectly. He picked up the pace, his hips alternating between slow, dragging thrusts and harsh, quick thrustsâhis eyes watching your face carefully, learning what made you whimper and your eyes roll back. His grip on your hips tightened, tilting them up as he delivered a harsh thrust that had a cry leaving your lips.
"You like that? Does that feel good?" You nodded mindlessly, pressure building in your core as your room filled with the sounds of your pleasure and skin slapping against skin.
"Don't stop, Jackâoh, godâ"
He groaned out as you squeezed even tighter around him, his release nearing embarrassingly fast. Your nails dug into his skin, a hiss leaving him at the burning sensation. He moved a hand from your hip to your core, rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your back arched as a loud moan escaped your chest, echoing throughout your room and probably being heard by the neighbours.
He kept his pace on your clit as his thrusts sped up, the effort making his face shine with a sheen of sweat.
"That's a good girl. You close, sweetheart?"
You mewled at his praise, nodding your head and uh-huhing as the fire licked higher. Your stomach clenched as your orgasm built, and you could feel Jack's nearingâhis thrusts starting to lose rhythm.
"Come inside me. Please, Jack." Your eyes shining with tears met his as you begged, and he almost blew his load right then.
"Tell me you're mine," he gritted out through clenched teeth.
"I'm yoursâonly yours," you gasped out.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come. Shit, sweetheartâoh fuck." Jack moaned out, and the sound combined with the dual simulation on your cunt had you coming with a sharp cryâwarmth spreading out from your core, your body feeling weightless and mind going fuzzy with pleasure.
You clenched down on his cock as you came, your slick walls keeping him locked deep and he rutted two times before comingâspilling in you with a long groan.
He brought your legs down from his shoulders and collapsed on top of you, peppering your chest with kisses as his cock softened inside you.
"That wasâŠ" He started.
"Yeah," you laughed softly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and holding him to your chest. "Pretty good for an old man," you couldn't help but tease him, earning another smack to your hip.
"Smartass."
After showering and eating you found yourself back in bed with Jack, lying next to him with your head on his bicep, one leg slung over his hip and a finger lazily tracing his chestâmapping his freckles like constellations. His free hand was running a path up and down your thigh and hip, goosebumps erupting from his touch.
You turned your head slightly to look at his face. "Did you know there was a bet about us?"
He turned to give you a bewildered look, before realisation slowly dawned on him.
"Well, that explains Robby pestering me with questions all week. Kept asking if I was getting laid, apparently the smile on my face was concerning."
You laughed softly, your heart glowing at the fact he was caught smiling at work because of you. "What did you tell him?"
Summary: Your life took a complete turn the moment you made one single decision: to help a billionaire with something so trivial that only a psychopath like him would mistake it for love.Â
Titus has found a lovely new obsession to focus all his energy on now and you're unsure how you're going to make it out of this unscathedâŠÂ
Word Count: 20.3k
A/N: I had this itch to write a slow burn, grumpy x sunshine fic with a splash of angst, yearning and fucked up manipulative behavior so this is what I cooked up.
I will note, you call him "sir" and he really likes it! Because I like it! Whoops!
For a full list of warnings, you can check out the fic on my AO3. Though this one is quite mild compared to my other fics so you can go in blind if you want to!Â
Oh, and of course, there will be porn! Hope it's a fun read âĄÂ
You let out a little yawn in the elevator after you drop off your thirtieth delivery for the day. Usually you don't do this many, but the fine dining restaurant you normally work at cut your hours so you've been needing to work on the apps to make ends meet.Â
You've been up since the crack of dawn and now the sun has set. You're ready to go back to bed.
Your eyes shift to the man in the elevator with you. He definitely is dressed like he is meant to be here. It is a luxury high rise that has both a hotel and residences. You just dropped off food for some rich asshole who barely tipped. You wonder if he is one of those rich assholes.Â
You glance downwards and notice that there's a tiny tear in his dress pants. He looks like he's dressed to go to some fancy event. He probably shouldn't have a noticeable tear like that. People in his world would spot it.Â
So, you tap him on the shoulder, saying, âexcuse me, sir.âÂ
Titus Danforth turns to glare at you. Here we go again, he thinks to himself. You must know him from somewhere. Though, he doesn't know many people who wear cheap, wholesale clothing that is likely made of plastics.Â
You must want his money, then.Â
But you point to the hem of his dress pants and ask, âdo you want me to fix that for you? There's a snag. You must've caught it on something.â
You pull out a small sewing kit from your bag, which you have since sometimes you have to mend your work clothes on the fly. It helps your coworkers too, since fine dining requires a certain level of pristine.Â
He blinks at you, surprised. It's such a tiny tear that he wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't said anything.Â
But his father would've definitely scolded him if he saw it.Â
There's no time to go back to his apartment and change. He needs to get to this fundraising gala right away. He spent a little too long fucking the help.Â
Titus looks up at the floor count. He knows there's a private floor that only certain members in the building have access to. He goes to scan his keycard and hits the thirteenth floor.Â
âWe'll get out here and you can do it.â He shouldn't be accepting some stranger's help so he definitely can't be seen taking it.
For all he knows, you snagged his pants and this is some kind of ploy to get a pay out from him.
But he doesn't think that's it.Â
You must just be a good samaritan because the moment he sits down at one of the plush benches by the elevator, you are on your knees in front of him, sifting through the threads you have to find the one that matches his pants the best before you start sewing it back up.Â
Titus likes the look of you on your knees. You're very pretty. Much prettier than the maid he has been fucking.Â
You're so focused on mending his pants that you don't notice the way he's staring at you, like he could swallow you up with just his gaze.Â
You make a little small talk, completely oblivious to the desire in his eyes, âare you heading somewhere fun?âÂ
âI wouldn't call being stuck in a room full of boring rich people fun.â He tells you and his heart pounds a little faster when you giggle.Â
That's a real laugh. Titus is used to hearing the dry, fake ones people give him, in a meager attempt to show him interest. You're genuinely amused.Â
âI totally get you.â You say back, still chuckling under your breath. âThat's how I feel every time I go to work.â
âDo you usually deliver food to this building?â Titus doesn't know why he's asking. He shouldn't care. You're just a delivery girl.Â
But then you shake your head, your words intriguing him, âI usually serve at Opulence but they cut my hours recently. They hired this TikTok influencer and she's been driving in business so they've been giving her most of my shifts. I just deliver when I need to get by.âÂ
âOpulence? The place that makes the cabrito asado?â Titus has eaten there a few times. His father loves that dish, since it's an herb-crusted, slow-roasted young goat on a bed of microgreens.Â
âYeah, that's it! Though, I've never had it.â The restaurant owner doesn't provide free meals and the chefs are super stingy with their ingredients, since they're so expensive. Even the nice ones won't let any of you have a taste, besides that one influencer girl. She got to try everything to post about on her social media.Â
You're trying not to be envious butâŠyou definitely wish you could do something like that. You can't afford the equipment, however. She has the latest phone model. Two of them actually, one for work and one for personal use. You're still using the phone you got on a deal a few years ago.Â
âYou haven't eaten anything at the restaurant you serve at?âÂ
You shake your head. âI can't afford anything on that menu. I can barely afford my rent as isâah, shit, sorry, I keep complaining. Ignore me. You don't want to listen to some stranger yap.âÂ
You do the final tie to secure the thread and cut the remaining with your compact scissors. You brush your hand over the fabric one last time then show him.
âDoes it look good to you?âÂ
Titus is impressed. It doesn't even look like there was a tear to begin with. âHave you done this a lot?â
âOh, all the time! The owner is very particular about how they want us to look at all times. Even the littlest of snags will get you sent home and most of us can't affordâshit, sorry, I need to stop doing that! Bad habitâŠâ You catch yourself before you complain about money again. You're sure a man like him doesn't even think about money.Â
Titus definitely doesn't. The idea of not being able to afford anything is a bit ridiculous to him. He could buy the world if he wanted to.
He could buy you the world if you wanted him to.Â
What a strange thought.Â
Why did that pop into his head?Â
Maybe because you get up and ask for nothing in return for helping him.
âAll good?â You gesture to the elevator buttons. âReady to go?âÂ
âI should pay you for the help.â What the fuck is he saying? He has never offered to give anyone money before. At least not like this. He has offered money to people to get the fuck out of his way. Or to get something he wants.Â
Is that what this is? Is he doing this because he wants you?
You wave him off. âThis cost nothing. Just a smile.âÂ
You flash him a happy grin and heâŠcan't help but smile back. Especially when you beam at him so brightly, like pure sunshine.Â
âI love ending my day by making someone smile.â You nudge him playfully as the elevator doors open then step inside.Â
Titus doesn't know what to make of that. Being touched so casually normally repulses him. But with you, he wishes you'd stay close to him.Â
âWhen do you work next? Maybe I can tip you then.â Again, he doesn't understand why he's saying any of this. The words just spill out.Â
âHmmm.â You don't have your schedule yet. You should be getting it tomorrow, since it'll be the start of the week. âI won't know yet. If you want, you can call in and ask when I'm working. I just need to tell them your name so they know I'm okay with you knowing my schedule.âÂ
Technically, it's not a good idea to let a customer know exactly when a server will be on shift. But since it is a fine dining restaurant, if a wealthy customer does want a specific server, the server just has to make note of the customers they don't mind sharing their schedule with.Â
âYou don't know my name?â That's shocking to Titus. He is one of the wealthiest men on the planet.Â
âOh shit, are you like super famous or something?â You scratch your head, trying to parse out who he could be. âMy badâŠI work so much that I barely have time to keep up with anything.â
âTitus.â He tells you. âTitus Danforth. And you are?âÂ
You tell him your name and then give him another beautiful smile. âI will definitely look you up later so that if you do come into the restaurant, I will for sure know who you are, I promise!âÂ
The elevator doors open so you head out first then turn around and wave goodbye to him.Â
âSee you later, Titus!â You say his name so sweetly thatâŠ
He'll think about his name leaving your lips any time someone says his name from then on. Like when he's fucking that maid of his the next day and she's screaming his name and he's wondering what his name would sound like on your lips if you were bent over in front of him.Â
That might be the only reason he's able to finish today. He's been struggling this whole time to stay hard. His mind is so consumed by thoughts of you that he can't seem to cum unless he imagines it's you.Â
This can't be healthy. Though, he has never been mentally healthy before.Â
âI need you to get the fuck out.â He tells his maid the moment he pulls the condom off. âI don't want to see you again.âÂ
âTitusââ She gasps when he wraps his hand around her throat, stopping her from speaking another word.
âI don't want to hear my name come out of your mouth ever again. Now, get the fuck out.â He tosses her towards the door. âYou're fired.âÂ
She scoffs and then heads out. He knows she'll likely sue him but he has the footage to prove it was all consensual. His lawyers will guarantee that he wins the case.Â
Titus grabs his phone, searching up the number for your restaurant. He debates calling.Â
Should he see you?Â
Why does he want to see you?Â
You're just some pretty girl who helped him out with a little thing. You definitely have looked him up. Your entire opinion of him has likely morphed once you realize how rich and powerful he is. You wouldn't want him for him. You probably want him for his money now that you know. And he definitely shouldn't want you.Â
But he calls anyway.Â
âThis is Opulence, how can I help you?â The voice is so familiar. That's because it's your voice. You ended up being called in to fill for the hostess today.Â
âI'm looking to inquire about a server's schedule. How do I go about doing that?â Titus doesn't realize it's you until he tells you your name.Â
And you giggle that beautiful giggle that he is growing too fond of. âOh my goodness, is this Titus? How are you! I didn't think you'd call in so soon. I haven't even looked you up yet. I was so tired after working that Iâshit, sorry, I'm doing it againâŠbabbling on and on.âÂ
âIt's alright. I don't mind.â What the fuck? Of course he minds. He hates it when people blab on and on.Â
Why is he acting like you're special?Â
Maybe because you are, when you tell him all cutely, âaw, you're so sweet. I knew I'd like you. I'll have to sneak you something good when you come in. I'm serving this Saturday if you want to stop by!â
âYou aren't working all week?â Today is Sunday. Is your next shift really Saturday?
âAh, yeah. It's okay. I'll be alright. Saturdays are typically good days so I should make a decent amount!â You are wildly optimistic, despite the struggle to make ends meet. âShould I book you a reservation or do you want to just pop in? I'll try to leave a table standing for you if you want!âÂ
âYou would do that?âÂ
âOf course! How about I do that and if you show up, you show up! If not, the restaurant will live with one less table to serve. They make plenty of money as is.âÂ
Titus doesn't get you at all. You don't know who he is but you're giving him the five star treatment regardless.Â
Would you do this for anyone?
He doesn't like thinking that you would. That he isn't special in any way. That you're only doing this because you're just a nice person in general.Â
He wants you to only be nice to him. He wants to monopolize your attention.Â
âWhen do you get off work?â He asks.Â
âI close on Saturday, so last reservation is at 9:30PM.â It goes completely over your head that he's asking when you're done with work. Other people would take that as a flirtation. You're too innocent to think of it as anything but a simple question.Â
âThen book me a table at 9:30PM.â He decides that's when he'll see you, so he has the chance to see you after work too.
Even though Titus is unsure if that's a good idea.Â
âAlright! Just you or are you bringing someone special?â You're only asking because you need to know how many people to put down on the reservation.
But Titus thinks you're asking because you want to know if he's single. âJust me. I don't have anyone special.âÂ
âWell then, we definitely should fix that.â You say to him, chuckling. âYou're way too handsome to not have someone to spoil. I can ask around to see if any of my regulars are single. They're all around your age, super rich too! I can play matchmaker for you.âÂ
He doesn't want anyone special. He just wants you. But you aren't even putting yourself on the menu. You don't even consider yourself someone he would be interested in. Probably because you're so much younger than him and in a completely different tax bracketâŠÂ
âDo you have anyone special?â The question leaves his lips and he regrets asking. It's too forward.
But again, you're totally oblivious to it, since you're so used to customers asking you all sorts of personal questions. You don't see it as anything out of the ordinary. âOh no. I've never even dated anyone before. Too busy working, you know!âÂ
Titus should not be happy to hear that but he is. He is very happy to know that you've never dated anyone before. Because that means there's a chance you've never been with anyone ever before.Â
And now he's invested in you.Â
His lovely new obsession.Â
âMaybe we can change that. I'll see you on Saturday.â He says, smirking into the phone.Â
You don't notice anything strange in his wording and just say back, âsee you then, Titus!â
You hang up the work phone and go back to prepping the restaurant to be open. The hostess always comes in early in case people call in to make same day reservations, so you're glad you came in and caught Titus's call. You really need to look him up.Â
You make plans to do so when you get home but then you get a notice from your landlord saying that you have a week to move out since their kid flunked out of college and needs the room back.
There goes your cheap rentâŠÂ
You then spend the rest of the week stuffing everything you can into your car and throwing out everything else. Thankfully the room was furnished so you didn't have any furniture to pack butâŠnow everything you own is in your car.Â
You've been calling different listings for places to live but no place at the same price point as your old place stays available for long enough. By the time Saturday rolls around, you're still unhoused and living out of your car.Â
You have to buy a gym membership so you can shower and get ready for work. There's no way you can show up looking like you've been sleeping upright for the last few days.Â
You feel like shit but you still put on your best smile when you get to work. You could use the tips for your deposit.Â
But tonight, no one seems to want to tip you, specifically.Â
You didn't realize they booked you with that influencer girl, so most tables are requesting her. Which is totally fine, it makes sense that people would want to come to see someone they follow online.Â
You have a handful of regulars who tip you alright so you know you'll make it through this shift with some money in your pocket. Less than you'd hope, but enough to be okay.Â
That's about to change real quick.Â
Because the owner of the restaurant comes and grabs you, yanking you off the floor to ask you, âwhat the hell is Titus Danforth doing here?âÂ
âOh, he's here already?â You look at your watch. It's fifteen minutes before his reservation. You didn't realize he was an early bird or you would've had his table ready sooner.Â
âWhat do you mean âoh, he's here already"? You knew he was coming in?âÂ
âYeah. I booked his reservation.âÂ
âYou bookedâŠâ The owner looks like they're about to throw a fit. âWhy didn't you tell me you booked a reservation for Titus Danforth? The books only had his initials!â
âThat'sâŠwhat we always do?â You're not supposed to put full names down, in case someone hacks in and sees an A-list celebrity has a reservation and then tries to come in at the same time.Â
âDo you not know who he is?âÂ
You shake your head. You have been so busy all week that you haven't gotten to looking him up just yet. He must be a big deal if the owner is going nuts over him being here.Â
âHe is one of the wealthiest men on the fucking planet and you reserved him a standard table.â The owner pinches their brow. âWhat the fuck is wrong with you?â
âExcuse me?â You didn't realize part of your job description was to research every wealthy person on the planet in case they show up here. Nor did you realize that being verbally abused over and over was suddenly an okay practice to do. âLook, I'm sorry, butââ
âGet the fuck out of my restaurant.â They point to the staff room, which has the private entrance/exit so customers don't see you leaving or entering the building. âGet your shit and go. Thankfully we have an actually competent server to help Titus Danforth tonight. We don't need you anymore.â
You can't believe this. You're seriously getting fired because you didn't know who Titus is. This is actually ridiculous.
âYou know I just got evicted, right?â You had told them when it happened, in hopes you'd get more hours.Â
âI don't give a fuck about your sob story. Just get out of my fucking restaurant now.â The owner shoves past you to go to the front of the house, presumably to talk to Titus.Â
You let out a sigh. You did want to see him. You brought him something you figured might make him smile.
So when you spot your now-ex coworker, the influencer, in the staff room on her break, you open your locker and grab it, giving it to her.
âHey, you're going to serve a Titus Danforth in a bit. Could you give this to him for me? I wanted to give it to him myself but I just got fired so I got to go.âÂ
âOh shit. Is it because of Titus? Did he cuss you out or something?â Her words strike you as strange.Â
âNoâŠ? Does he do that?â She would know, since she's all over that online drama stuff.Â
âOh yeah, all the fucking time. He gets people fired wherever he goes, like even over the tiniest little thing. I heard he's a fucking prick.â She takes your gift for Titus, looking at it. âAre you sure you want to give him something? Are you a fan of his? I know some billionaires have fans but I wouldn't pick him as my choiceâŠâ
âJust give it to him, please. Tell him it's from me and that I'm sorry I couldn't be here.â
âAlright.â She tucks it into her apron. âGood luck. Sorry you got fired.â
You shrug and wave goodbye as she heads out onto the floor. It does suck that you got fired but life happens.Â
What can you do about it but move on?Â
Titus can't seem to move on, though.Â
He hasn't spotted you at all since he got to the restaurant. He came early in hopes of just watching you work for a little prior to you serving him. He expected to see you.
But the person serving him isn't you.
The owner personally apologizes to him for not booking him a private booth but managed to get one situated for him, despite it being a busy Saturday night. Titus couldn't care less where he sat. He's here to see you and that's it.Â
But you aren't the one serving him for some reason.Â
So he asks the server where you are and she tells him, âI'm so sorry, Mr. Danforth. She was let go because she didn't know who you were and booked you at a standard table. The owner never wants their VIPs to ever be booked at a standard table. She should've known better.âÂ
Titus scoffs. âWhat the fuck? I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her. I have come here maybe twice with my father. He's the VIP. I'm just a regular customer. She booked me correctly.â
âYou're a Danforth, sir.â Titus does not like the sound of the word sir coming out of anyone's mouth but yours.Â
âWhere is she?â Titus looks around. âDid she leave already?â
âYes, I think so. She probably finished packing up her stuff and left. She did tell me to give you this, though. And to tell you that she's sorry she couldn't be here.â The server hands him a little box.Â
He opens it. It'sâŠa small sewing kit. The same one like you had in your bag.Â
With a cute note attached saying: For any future repairs âĄ
You had planned to tell Titus that you'd show him a few different ways to sew up a snag, to go with the gift, but you can't now obviously. You probably will never see him again.Â
You put all your work stuff with the rest of your things in your car, sighing. You didn't think you'd be off so early, so now you have to figure out where to park. Most places aren't free to park until 10PM so you could wait in your work parking lot until then but you don't really want to stick around a place that fired youâŠÂ
But then, you look up at the sky and decide it's okay to stay for a little. You'll miss working here. It's just a few miles out of the city, in a beautiful part where plenty of wealthy people live, with barely any light pollution.Â
There's so many stars out tonight.Â
You sit up on the hood of your car, staring up at the night sky from this vantage point one last time. You're so engrossed by the sight of the stars that you don't notice a figure walking up to you until a shadow engulfs you.
You turn your head to see⊠âTitus?âÂ
How did he find the employee parking lot?Â
It's quite an uphill trek from the restaurant, which is on purpose since the restaurant valet would prefer to not have any âuglyâ cars parked in that lot.
Titus just stares at you, at how pretty you look in the light of the stars and the moon. How they seem to add an extra sparkle in your eyes. How he is so grateful he caught up to you before you left.Â
There was no way he was going to wait any longer to see you again.Â
He wasn't going to let some fucking stupid restaurant owner get in his way.Â
âI heard you got fired.â He says to you, noticing how cleaned up you look in your work attire compared to the casual clothes from before. âI didn't end up staying since you weren't there.âÂ
âAw, you should've at least enjoyed the food.â You feel bad he just left.Â
âDid you like working at that restaurant?â He asks because he just bought it and if you wanted to, you come back to work there. He won't tell you he bought it, of course, but he would get you your job back.Â
But it doesn't seem like you want to, from the way you shrug. âIt was nice while it lasted. Maybe this is the universe telling me I need to be somewhere else.âÂ
âWhat do you mean?âÂ
You pat the hood of your car, inviting him to sit with you. He would never normally do this. Especially on an old car like yours. But he does, for some reason.Â
For you. To be next to you.Â
Titus sits beside you in his designer clothes and you giggle, pulling your knees up to your chest, leaning your head against them as you look at him. âWe really are from two different worlds, aren't we?âÂ
âAre you going to move?â He noticed all your things packed in your car.Â
âI don't know.â You look back up at the stars. âI don't have a place to stay right now. I don't have a job. I don't have anything besides what I got right here.âÂ
Again, he just stares at you. But this time, it's because he has never met anyone like you before. He has met people who are desperate, who would do anything to get out of whatever hole they dug themselves into.Â
But, despite whatever life has thrown at you, you don't show any signs of that same desperation.
You actually seem content to just look at the stars in the sky, basking in the moonlight, enjoying the moment, ignoring the reality of your situation for a second.Â
âDo you like stargazing?â You turn your head towards Titus again.Â
âI don't really look up.âÂ
You chuckle at that. âI guess when you're one of the richest men on the planet, you only look down, right?â
âSo you looked me up?â Titus figured you would eventually.Â
But you shake your head. âI didn't have any time to. Had to pack all my stuff into my car this week since I got evicted. I just heard that from the owner. Sorry, bad joke.âÂ
âWhat else did you hear about me then?â He wants to know what you know.Â
âMy ex-coworker said you're a fucking prick.â You reply, followed by another cute laugh. âI wonder what you must've done to give the internet that impression.âÂ
âYou don't think I'm a prick?â He would understand if you did. He is a fucking prick. The worst of the worst.Â
But you don't judge people based on the words of others. Maybe that is naive of you but you like to believe most people are good people. Though you have no clue who you're sitting next to right nowâŠÂ
âDo you want me to think you're a prick?â You nudge him playfully like you had before. âI can do that if you want.âÂ
âHow can you be soâŠnormal around me? After learning who I am?â Titus hasn't noticed any change in your behavior.Â
You're acting exactly like you had when you first met him.Â
âAm I supposed to act a certain way around a man with money?â You tilt your head at him, feigning befuddlement. âShould I get on my hands and knees and beg you for a crumb of your wealth, sir?â
Yes. Titus wants to say but then you laugh, obviously having said what you said as a joke, so he bites his tongue. But it's hard not to imagine you on your hands and knees, with his cock buried inside of you from behind, moaning beneath him.Â
He needs to figure out how to curb his desire for you. This is getting out of hand.Â
Especially when you nudge him again and point at the sky. âLook, or you'll miss it!â
Titus looks up and a shooting star blazes across the sky, drawing a line of light for just a moment before disappearing.Â
âDid you wish for anything?â You ask him, still displaying that brilliant smile he's growing to love.Â
âNo. Did you?â Titus doesn't make wishes. He can get whatever he wants.Â
Except you and your free spirit. âI wished for a sign from the universe to tell me where to go next.âÂ
You're like a pretty bird, ready to soar towards your next adventure. You never stay in one place for too long.Â
Titus won't have that. He needs to cage you. To keep you.Â
So, he says to you, âdo you want to work for me?âÂ
You raise an eyebrow at him. âDoing what? Do you own a restaurant I can serve at?â
He literally owns the place that fired you butâŠhe won't tell you that now.Â
Instead, he tells you, âI recently fired my personal assistant so I'm looking for a new one. You'd get your own room in my apartment and you can buy food and other necessities on my card.âÂ
âWhat does a personal assistant for Titus Danforth do?â You lean your head against your knees, looking up at him. âAm I writing emails all day orâŠ?âÂ
âJust whatever I need help getting done for the day.â Like getting off. He really wants to get off. He hasn't cum since he fired that maid. He wants to cum inside of you.
Maybe even without a condom. Â
You don't seem to notice the lust in his gaze at all. Probably because no one has ever looked at you like that before.Â
âYou should get someone with actual personal assistant experience.â You definitely aren't the right fit. You've mainly worked in restaurants, minus that singular stint you did at a retail store in your teens. âAlso, you definitely shouldn't hire someone you've only known for like an hour.âÂ
You chuckle, the sound so intoxicating to him. Little do you know, you have been on his mind every second of every day since the moment you left his sight. He tried his best not to let his mind wander to you but it always did.Â
âI was following your lead. The universe brought you to me when I needed a personal assistant and the universe brought me to you when you needed a job. Is that not a sign?â He manipulates your wish and uses it against you.Â
âI guess you're right.â You tap your finger against your lips, which makes Titus stare very closely at them, wishing he could kiss you. âBut still, you barely know me.âÂ
âYou barely know me.â He counters and that makes you laugh again.Â
Titus will never get used to the casual touches you do. You are so relaxed around him. You should be more guarded.Â
You have no idea what he has in store for you now that he has you in his graspâŠ
You don't get what Titus's last personal assistant must have done to get fired. This has got to be the easiest job you've ever had. And the benefits are incredible!Â
Titus gave you a super nice car, completely paid off, since he doesn't want his personal assistant to be driving something dingy. You have all brand new, designer clothes in your closet that fit you perfectly and match your style. He apparently had people come over once you moved your things in to sift through your closet and figure out what you would like so that you had clothes to wear when you went out with him.Â
You go out with Titus a lot. Mostly to restaurants he's scoping out, thinking of buying or investing in. You and him eat and drink and laugh and chat so much that you're shocked this is even considered work.Â
Your paycheck is also enormous too and he even helped you set up a high yield savings account at the bank his family runs with a very good rate.Â
You're making more money now than you have your entire life.Â
You don't have anything to use it on, either. Titus pays for everything, always. You try to pay sometimes, for groceries or for household goods, but then he just adds the money to your paycheck when you do, effectively zeroing it back out. You get that he is obscenely wealthy but you don't want him to always have to pay.Â
âIt's an insult when you try to pay for me.â Titus tells you as he drives the two of you from the airport to a resort on the tropical island he's thinking of investing in.Â
âThis rental car cost like a tenth of my check. You could've let me pay for it.â You pout at him and he shakes his head at you.Â
âA tenth of your check is not even a penny to me.â He will not have you spending any money when he has plenty.Â
âOh, I'm sorry, I forgot I'm in the presence of an almost trillionaire. My apologies, sir.â You exaggerate a bow then giggle.Â
It has been months since Titus hired you to be his âpersonal assistantâ and he still hasn't touched you. He has no idea how he is keeping it together, especially when you laugh so beautifully like that all the time and jokingly call him sir.Â
You are so playful and so cute that he just wants to eat you up.Â
But you are horribly oblivious to any and all of his advances.Â
You two go out to eat and you think it's just work. You two stay in a hotel suite together and you think it's just work. You two go on vacations together and you really, truly, seriously think this is just a work excursion.Â
That is totally why Titus paid for the all inclusive resort package for the two of you that includes a private pool attached to the room.Â
Though this time, he made sure there was only one bed. The last few times, the hotels and resorts you've been to have had other rooms available to swap to, so you and Titus have never had to sleep in the same bed.Â
That changes today. He booked out all of the available rooms to ensure you had to sleep in the same bed as him. You can't avoid him now.Â
âAre you sure this is okay?â You stare at the king sized bed in the very nice room. âI can sleep on the floor. Or the tub. I've done that before when I've crashed at people's places.âÂ
âI'm not letting you sleep in a tub.â The idea makes him grimace.Â
âI'm surprised there isn't like a couch or something.â You would assume a fancy resort like this would have more furniture in the room but there's really only the bed and the desk and you can't sleep in a desk chair for a week.Â
Titus made sure there was no alternate sleeping places. They took the couch out and rearranged the furniture to make it look like this is what the room should look like. And Titus told you that you shouldn't ever look up anywhere you and him go since he wants you to experience it blind to get the best feel for the place. You listen because he's your boss.Â
Now you're going to be sharing a bed with your bossâŠÂ
âThere really weren't any other rooms?â It's a huge resort. Though, it does look like there's some kind of convention going on.Â
It's packed on the island right now!
âIs the idea of sleeping with me that horrible?â Titus tries to be playful with this question but there's a bite to his tone he can't hide.Â
You, again, are oblivious to it. âNo, not at all. I just feel bad because you probably don't want to sleep with me.âÂ
âI don't mind.â He wants to desperately.Â
âHopefully I'm not a weird sleeper.âÂ
âYou've never slept with someone before?â He finally has a chance to casually ask this question.Â
âI've shared a bed with friends on trips and stuff like that to save money.â Again, it goes over your head that he's not referring to real sleeping. âThey've never complained but like what if I kick you in my sleep? I would feel so bad!â
âThat should be the least of your worries.â You'll be lucky if you have the opportunity to actually sleep.Â
âI know. If you don't think it's a big deal, then I shouldn't worry about it.â You appreciate that he's looking out for you.
Titus has no idea how you got to your age and you're so fucking oblivious to the fact that he wants to pin you down on this bed and fuck the brains out of you.Â
Maybe it's because you don't see him as a man. You only see him as your boss. You haven't put it together in your mind that he should be someone you should be careful around.Â
But you aren't careful at all.Â
You casually touch his arm when you're walking past him so you don't accidentally bump into him on the way to the closet to unpack your things. You place your hands on him to straighten out his clothes without warning. You nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder then flash him a big smile whenever you feel like bothering him with an ask of something kind.
Like, âcan we get smoothie bowls? Please!â
âPlease what?â He pokes your nose and you laugh, knowing what he's looking for.Â
âPlease, sir. Can we get smoothie bowls?â You bat your eyelashes at him, like you always do.
It takes everything in his soul not to grab you and kiss you. He opts to clench his fist tight and gives you an even tighter lipped smile in response.
âSure.â His heart races at how happy you look.
âGreat, I'm starving and that place looked so good.âÂ
It's one of the restaurants in the resort. A cute hut that makes smoothie bowls. It should be included in the resort package, though Titus wouldn't care how much it cost regardless.Â
As long as he gets to see you all giddy to eat a colorful bowl of fruit layered on top of a smoothie, he would pay anything.Â
âYou know, you haven't called Pepper back.â You manage Titus's personal cellphone and his father recently sent him a bunch of potential matches for marriage.Â
Titus went out with one of them as a formality but hated being there. It meant he wasn't with you that day and he hates not being with you. Everyone else in his world is dull and power-hungry.Â
You're a breath of fresh air.
Except when you push him away from you. âShe seemed really nice. She sent the yummiest fruit basket to the apartment. I was just thinking about it since these fruits are just as yummy.âÂ
Titus digs his spoon into the smoothie bowl the two of you are sharing because he didn't want to get his own and you offered to share yours with him so he could try it. The fruits are good, in season, ripe, sweet. Like how he imagines you must taste.Â
âYou do realize if I get married, you'd be out of a job.â Titus is harsher with his words than he intends but he can't hide his annoyance that you don't view him as someone of interest. You never look flustered around him.
Not even when he pulls you towards him by wrapping his arms around your waist so that someone doesn't bump into you as they run by. His hands linger at your sides. You don't seem startled at all that he's touching you.
âOh my goodness, that person almost rammed into me!â You catch your breath, your heart racing. âThanks, Titus.âÂ
You pat him gently on the chest, then look up at his face. He almost flinches when you reach up and cup his jaw with your hand. He almost expects you to lean up and kiss him.
But instead, you wipe a bit of smoothie off the corner of his lip and then proceed to lick it off your thumb. âYou had a little drip. Can't have you walking around withââ
Titus can't stand it anymore and just kisses you. His arms hook you in closer to him, locking you to his chest, before his lips crash down onto yours.Â
You don't know what's going on.
You've never been kissed before.Â
Is this a kiss? Why is Titus kissing you?Â
His lips are so soft against yours. You don't know what to do.Â
Should you kiss him back? But he's your bossâŠÂ
A weird feeling pangs in your chest. The one you've been avoiding. Ignoring, because you figured it was just silly to imagine that he likes you.Â
Now that you're getting some proof that he does, maybe even just physically, you're suddenly afraid that everything is going to change. And you don't want things to change. You liked how everything was.Â
âTitusâŠâ You breathe out against his lips when he finally lets you swallow air again.Â
You don't have any words to say. You can't form the sentence you want to speak aloud. Because you should tell him not to do that again. That he's your boss and you're his assistant.Â
But instead, you ask him, âis this why you fired your last assistant?â
Your words catch him by surprise. He wasn't expecting you to ask that of all things right after he kissed you for the first time.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â His head is all over the place, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to kiss you again but you're looking at him with such devastation in your eyes. And he can't help but like the look of it.Â
Because is this not that same envy you had for that influencer?Â
âDid your last assistantâŠlet you kiss them? Was that in their job descriptionâŠâ Your stomach is doing somersaults and you feel nauseous from the fear that everything is going to change forever. âBecause I-I don't know if I can do that if it is.âÂ
âYou don't want to kiss me?â Fury causes Titus to dig his nails further into his fist, his palm bleeding.Â
There was always a chance you didn't like him. That your sweetness was just a facade.Â
Is that what you're showing him now? That you weren't the genuinely aloof, adorable girl he wants so badly to fuck up?Â
You glance down at his fist, at the blood dripping from it. âTitus, your hand!âÂ
He watches as you grab a hold of his hand, opening his fist up, seeing the way his nails had dug into his palm.
âOh no, shit, I knew we should've gotten manicures before we flew here.âÂ
The edges of his nails are all sharp since it's been a while. You were planning on booking one of the resortsâ manicurists to come to the room. You should've thought of this sooner.Â
You quickly grab some napkins and apply pressure to the cut. âAre you okay? Does it hurt?â
âI just kissed you and you give more of a fuck about my hand?â He yanks his hand out of your hold. âAre you fucking serious?âÂ
Your throat is closing up. This reminds you of when the owner of the restaurant yelled at you. Only this time, it's Titus. And seeing him angry with you scares you to the point where you can't control the tears that are blurring your vision.
âI'm sorry, I'm sorry.â You try to find some words to say but none of them will come out. You're so nervous all of a sudden.
Titus has never seen you like this before. Flustered, scared, anxious, delicious. He wants more of this side of you. The one that you've been hiding under that confident mask of yours.Â
The girl underneath who wants nothing more than to be spoiled rotten.Â
Without letting you say anything else, Titus scoops you up into his arms, carrying you back to the room. You cling onto him, shocked that he's carrying you so easily.Â
Though, should you be shocked?Â
You have seen him practically naked before, wearing only his boxers around the apartment. You know he works out because he has a gym set up. You have watched him exercise before.Â
But for some reason, the thought of him without any clothes on is making your heart flip flop on your chest. You've never felt whatever feeling is stirring inside of you.Â
Is thisâŠlust?Â
Titus opens the door to the room and then proceeds to toss you onto the bed. You scramble to sit up, backing up until your back is against the headboard. He climbs onto the bed like a predator stalking its prey until he has you trapped beneath him.Â
Your heart is going to leap out of your chest at this point. You've never seen Titus look soâŠhungry before. Like he wants to devour you whole.Â
âI don't care to wait anymore.â He tells you, looking you up and down like he's planning out how to feast on you. âI don't care if you scream. I don't care if you fight back. I fucking don't care anymore. I'm done waiting for you.âÂ
âWait, wait, Titusââ You can't stop him from kissing you, his lips sealing over yours, stealing your breath away when he slips his tongue into your mouth. The warmth of it mixing with yours makes you dizzy.Â
You didn't realize kissing could feel soâŠhot. You taste the smoothie bowl, that sweet fruit flavor on his tongue. You like it a lot. You like kissing him a lot.Â
That's why you have to stop him. You can't be doing this. He can't be doing this. He's about to marry someone else. His father will make sure of that. And then you'll just have been some blip in his memory.Â
That's all you'll be.
And you don't want that.
You want to be able to remember your time with Titus fondly.Â
âPlease, Titus, let me talk.â You beg against his lips.Â
âI'm not going to stop so don't waste your breath.â He goes to kiss down your jaw, to the column of your neck, placing a bite right in the center that stings and shoots a tingle down to your core, something you've never felt before.Â
âI don't want you to stop.â Your words flip a switch in his head and he lifts up from your neck to look at you, confused.Â
That wasn't what he was expecting. Nor was he expecting the tears that are welling up in your eyes. They aren't from fear.Â
They'reâŠfrom sadness.Â
Longing to be specific.Â
Yearning, more like it.Â
âBut you need to know if we do this, you're going to break my heart.â You go to wipe the tears that spill from your eyes with your hands. âSo if you want to do this, we can. But it will hurt me more than you will ever know.â
âWhy?â He doesn't understand.Â
How can he break your heart when he doesn't even have it yet?Â
You cup his face, pulling him up towards you so you can lay your forehead against his, before you tell him, âbecause I know I'm just one of many people you've done this with. You like me now, sure, but there's no guarantee that'll last. And you can't promise me it will. I won't believe you. ButâŠâ
You let out a sigh, before you lean in and press a kiss on his lips. He's so stunned to feel you kiss him.
He's even more stunned when you tell him, âI don't mind if you break my heart. I just want you to be aware that you will.âÂ
You give him a soft smile, like you always do, and it burns a hole in his chest.Â
âYou aren't one of many.â He knows that to be a fact. He has never wanted to spend time with anyone like he has with you.Â
âThen tell me about the person before me. Did you kiss them too?â You know the answer from the look on his face but you want him to say it.Â
âI didn't have a personal assistant before you.â That's the honest truth.
But you know it's not the full truth. âWho did you have before me?â
âShe was just a maid.âÂ
âWill I be âjust a personal assistantâ one day?â Your words make him ache in ways he never thought possible.Â
âNo.â He shakes his head. He doesn't want you to just be a personal assistant to him.Â
He wants you.
âDid you break her heart?âÂ
âWe just fucked. That's it. I didn't feel anything for her.â The words slip from his lips and you catch them.
âYou feel something for me?â So this isn't just physical. What is it then?Â
âYou have to understand.â Titus won't hold himself back anymore. âYou are never going to be able to leave me. I would rather kill you than let anyone else have you.âÂ
âThen kill me.â You pull his hands up to wrap around your throat, wanting him to squeeze. âBecause I'd rather die than know one day, you'll leave me for someone else. For another pretty girl who caught your eye. I'd rather die than witness someone else having you after I've gotten a taste.â
âThen why did you push me towards Pepper?â
âThat was before I knew you felt the same way about me that I do about you.âÂ
You can't help yourself. You lean in and kiss him again, just so you can remember the feeling of his lips on yours before you die. Those soft lips. How you yearn to feel them all over your skin.Â
But the moment you do, your heart will surely shatter.Â
âI don't want anyone else but you.â He says so clearly that you almost believe him.Â
âMaybe for right now.â You brush your nose against his, that playfulness still shining through even in your despair. âBut you should be honest with yourself. You don't want a relationship with me. I know you don't.âÂ
You don't know how to explain it. But you're sure Titus doesn't want you to be his girlfriend. Or his wife.Â
He just wants you to be his.Â
And you can do that.Â
You can be his.Â
But it will hurt you tremendously in the process.Â
Is he willing to do that to you?Â
Titus moves his hands off of your neck and then gets up from the bed, straightening himself out. Then, he goes to the phone at the desk, dialing the front desk.Â
âI need another room.â He says to the receptionist, who is fully aware of all the rooms he has booked. âEither one that connects or a suite with two bedrooms. Just pick one and send the keycards here.âÂ
âRight away, Mr. Danforth.â They hang up and before you have time to process what's happening, there's a knock on the door.
Titus grabs the new keycards and goes to pack your things up back into your suitcase and then he does his own. You're sitting there, stunned.Â
Because you realize he wanted to sleep next to you. That's why he booked this room in particular. There were rooms available. But he wanted to share a bed with you, so he convinced you there weren't.
And now, he doesn't anymore.Â
Because hurting you is something he can't do, for some reason.Â
He liked seeing you shy and flustered but hurtâŠthat didn't spark what he thought it would inside of him. What it usually does inside of him.Â
When he gathers everything, he tells you, âcome on, let's go to our new rooms.â
âTitusâŠâ You're speechless for once. You normally have a quip of some kind butâŠyou don't right now.Â
âYou're right. I don't know what I was thinking. You can't mean anything to me and I would be a fucking idiot to think you could. I was just thinking with my cock. It won't happen again.â Titus gestures for you to take your bags. âNow come on, we have a resort to check out. Let's get to work.âÂ
And that's all it is.Â
Work.Â
Because that's all it will ever be, right?
âA little birdie told me something interesting.â Ursula smiles that wicked grin of hers at Titus, while they're having brunch at the Danforth Resort together. âYou haven't fucked your personal assistant yet. It's been over a year. I find that impressive, Titus.âÂ
âWho the fuck would tell you something like that?â He rolls his eyes at her.Â
She's telling the truth, though. He hasn't fucked you. He hasn't even kissed you since that time.Â
âYour housekeepers will do anything for a little extra cash.â She only had to add a bit more to their checks to get them to spill the details about you and Titus. âFrom what I hear, your personal assistant is more like a roommate you pay. And you don't even fuck her. That's just weird.âÂ
âIt's weird that you give a fuck about who I'm fucking.âÂ
Ursula shrugs. âI give more of a fuck that you've been acting like an asshole because you're all pent up. Just go fuck one of the people you have on speed dial and get it over with already.â
âOkay, I will.â He leaves the table then, done with this brunch.
But he doesn't go to one of the many fuckbuddies he has.
He just goes straight home to you.Â
Because he doesn't want to fuck anyone.Â
It's like there's something wrong with him. If he isn't thinking about you, he can't get hard. His body won't let him fuck anyone else.Â
But maybe that's his heart getting in the way.Â
You and him have found that rhythm from before again, albeit with a slight change. You do get flustered whenever he touches you now. And you don't touch him as casually as you used to anymore. He likes that you're finally seeing him as a man. But he hates that you no longer feel relaxed around him.Â
You apologize a lot more now. You aren't as playful because you're nervous you'll say something you shouldn't.Â
It's killing him inside.Â
Especially on days like today, where you seem like you're back to the way you were before, smiling at him when he gets home, âwelcome back! How was brunch?âÂ
âHorrible.â He pulls off his dress shirt, tossing it into the hamper.Â
You hand him one of the softer shirts he wears at home and he slips it on. He catches the way your eyes linger on his body for a second before you shake your head, like you're trying to shake away the thoughts you were having.Â
You distract yourself by asking, âdid you bring me that pastry?â
âFuck, I forgot.â He was in a rush to leave.Â
Usually when he goes to brunch with Ursula at the Danforth Resort, you would beg him to get this one pastry for you since it's a specialty dessert there. He always got it for you, so he could watch you happily devour it.Â
âOh it's okay!â You wave him off. âNo big deal. I will just dream about it until next time.âÂ
âWe can go right now.âÂ
You look at him like he's gone crazy. âYou just drove back. It's alright. I don't mind waiting.âÂ
Waiting. Titus hates that fucking word.Â
He hates waiting. He hates it so much. He hates that he has to wait and wait and wait until everything falls into place so that he can have even the slightest chance of being with you. Of making you his, forever.Â
You seem content to wait but he doesn't know for how long.Â
He knows you've been looking for another job.
He knows you've been talking with other men.Â
Sure, they're "just friendsâ of yours butâŠhe can't stand it.Â
He can't take another day of waiting for you to be his.
He needs this to work.Â
Titus cannot live without you.Â
So, he waits for everything to align exactly the way he needs it to.Â
Then, he will make you his.Â
But plans never do go the way he thinks.
Because you've caught the eye of a certain member of the High Council.Â
âIgnacio?â You see him at one of the events Titus brings you to and he comes rushing up to you, giving you a big hug.Â
Something that makes Titus's jaw tighten.Â
âNow where have you been, mi cielito?â He swings you around, making you giggle. âI have missed having you serve me. Opulence has declined since you left.âÂ
âI got fired.â You tell him as he sets you down.Â
âThey fired you? But doesn't TitusââÂ
When Ignacio meets Titus's deadly glare, he doesn't say another word.Â
Instead, he clears his throat and goes, âwell, regardless, they were sorely mistaken in choosing to let you go.â
âIf I knew you'd be here, I would've brought you something.â You used to bring him cute little charms for his guns.Â
âWhat are you doing here? I heard Titus had a personal assistant but I had no idea it would be you. How did you two meet?âÂ
âIt's a funny story.â You say with that soft giggle of yours.Â
Titus is learning right now that you show that side of yourself to others. Not just him. Ignacio seems well versed in how precious you can be, his eyes roaming your body. He must like how gorgeous you look in the designer dress Titus picked out for you for this event.Â
âWould you like a drink? I'd love to hear about it.â As much as Ignacio wouldn't want to light any fury in Titus, he has missed the chats you two used to have so he is willing to risk it.Â
Titus opens his mouth to answer for you but then you go, âoh sure! Titus, you don't mind right? I'll be right back!â
Of course he minds. Of course he fucking minds. You're not supposed to want to spend time with anyone except for him.Â
And yet you're choosing Ignacio? Over him?Â
He can't stop you from walking away. He can't stop you from smiling at Ignacio as you hook your arm in his, doing that affectionate cheek rub against his shoulder, making Ignacio pinch your nose in response. You laugh so beautifully as the two of you chat about something Titus is too far away to hear.
Ignacio touches you so casually, like the two of you have a deeper relationship. But you told Titus you never dated before.Â
But you never told him if you ever fucked someone before.Â
From the way Ignacio is holding your hip with one hand and his drink in the other, Titus can't help but imagine that you aren't the innocent girl he thought you were. Especially when you smile all bashfully before placing your hand against Ignacio's chest, using your finger to draw little circles over where his heart is.Â
âI think your boss wants me dead.â Ignacio whispers to you. âYou shouldn't glance over there. You'll see quite the death glare.âÂ
âHe won't do anything to you, don't worry.â You know Titus won't.Â
âI heard a rumor about you.â He has been meaning to ask, since now he knows you're Titus's personal assistant. âYou haven't slept with him. Is that true?âÂ
âIs thatâŠsurprising?âÂ
Ignacio shrugs. âHe is quite fond of the help, from what I hear. Fond of firing them too, when he's done with them.â
That you are well aware of. You've seen it before. Titus fired all of his housekeeping staff recently and hired brand new ones, who only come when you and him aren't at the apartment at all. You still don't know why he did that but you don't ask. It isn't your place to.Â
âIf you need a job, I have many places you can work. Just give me a call anytime.â Ignacio puts his hand out and you give him your phone, letting him add his personal number to it. âI should let you go back to your boss now. AdiĂłs, mi cielito.âÂ
Ignacio kisses you on the temple before heading over to say hello to another set of patrons at the event. You make your way back to Titus, who has maintained his glare this whole time.
The question he asks you when you're back by his side startles you. âHave you fucked him?â
âWhat?â You raise an eyebrow at Titus, shocked he'd ask you something like that.Â
âI said, have you fucked Ignacio?â His tone grows harsher. âAnswer me.â
âI have not fucked anyone.â You scoff, setting your drink down. You haven't even taken a sip and now you definitely don't want to.Â
Because you know the moment your inhibitions drop, you'll say something you really don't want to.Â
But then Titus goes, âI bet you want to fuck him.âÂ
And you can't hold it in anymore. âWhy do you care? I'm just the help. Though apparently you always fuck the help so maybe I'm not even that to you.âÂ
You have never snapped at Titus like this before. That's why he has no idea what to say. He didn't think you had it in you to feel any kind of jealousy. You normally are so chill, even when he talks to other people.Â
Have you been harboring envy this whole time?Â
You hate to admit that. You hate when your mind trails to the fact that he has been with other people and that he will be with other people after you. That you aren't anything but this weird pastime of his for right now.Â
But that ends today.Â
You can't keep doing this.
You can't keep pretending like you can stay by his side and nothing has changed.Â
âI'm going to work for Ignacio.â You tell him straight up, even though you haven't formally agreed to anything. âSo, you can go and hire some other person and fuck them because I do not want to be here when you inevitably do. I'm leaving to pack my things.âÂ
But he doesn't let you leave. Not without him.
Titus grabs you by the arm and drags you out to the underground parking lot, where he has his car parked for the event.Â
âLet go of me!â You tug at him but he won't budge. âTitus!â
âShut the fuck up!â He yells right in your face and you're so taken back that you can't speak. He has never yelled at you like that before.Â
It makes your heart race in ways you've never felt before.Â
He opens the backseat of his car and tosses you inside. Then, he gets in and shuts the door behind him, climbing on top of you.Â
You should've guessed what would happen next but you're still shocked when his lips come crashing down onto yours as his hands slide up your legs, hiking up your skirt. You gasp against his lips when he rips off your underwear, tossing it aside.
âWait, waitââ Your pleas are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth to hold it hostage. You can't breathe. You're getting lightheaded.Â
It only gets worse when you feel his thumb trail down your bare pussy, a feeling you've never felt before. You squirm, shoving at him, trying to close your legs but he has your thighs pinned down with his knees.Â
You're trapped beneath him.Â
You're at his mercy.Â
You can't let him do this.Â
You'll never be able to leave if you do.Â
You pull his face off of you and he snarls like a rabid animal in response but you have to get your words out, âplease don't do this. You don't want this. You don't want me. You know you don't.â
He lets out the most menacing laugh you've ever heard before he responds, âthat's where you're wrong. All I have ever wanted was you. All I want is to do this with you. How dare you try to leave me. Don't fucking try to stop me now because you're never getting away from me.âÂ
âFor how long, though?â Your words freeze him in place. âTitus, I don't want to do this if you're just going to fuck someone else later. Let me go, please.âÂ
âWhat will it take for you to believe that I only want you?â Because he can't let you go. He can't.
You're everything to him.Â
He'd rather die than ever let you go.Â
What will it take, though?Â
Horrible, sinful, ugly things cross your mind. Thoughts of you caging him as much as he wants to cage you.Â
You both falling into the trap that is one another.Â
âStop right now and wait until I'm ready.â You lean up, pressing your forehead against his. âBecause I will be ready. But I don't want our first time together to be in a car after a fight. Please, sir.âÂ
You're playing dirty, pulling that out now. But it satisfies Titus enough to nod.Â
âI want to kiss and touch you whenever I want.â That is his only ask as part of this deal. âI will wait to fuck you as long as you promise you won't go.â
âOkay.â You press a kiss against his lips, one that he immediately leans into, savoring. You smile then breathe out, your warm breath like heaven on his lips, âI'm not going anywhere. I promise, sir.âÂ
âNo talking to other men. No looking for other jobs. You sleep in my bed from now on. You aren't allowed to think of leaving me.â He nips at your bottom lip, his teeth sinking in hard enough to make it bleed. âGot it?â
You lick your lips, tasting the iron, then you lean in, biting his lip until he bleeds, before you kiss him, mixing yours with his. Then, you tell him with a little brush of your nose against his, âas long as you do the same. You're mine, Titus.âÂ
He lets out that dark chuckle of his, the one that he has been keeping in, the sinister laugh that is flooding his system with the darkness he has been dying to let out.Â
âI am going to fuck you up.â His devilish grin sends such a thrill through you.Â
âOnly me, okay?â You don't want him to look at anyone else like this.Â
âOnly you. You're my obsession.â His gaze trails down the length of your body and he groans at the sight of your pussy, his cock wanting to sink inside of you right now.Â
Titus settles for burying his face between your legs. You try to push him away, âTitus! What are youââ
âKeep your voice down.â He instructs, his hot breath tickling your clit. âUnless you want people to know I'm eating you out in my car right now.âÂ
âCan't we wait until we're home?â Your words make him smile.Â
So, you consider his apartment home.Â
He likes that a lot.Â
âI'm done waiting.â He says right as he drags the length of his tongue along your folds, making your whole body shudder. His hand slides down to knead his cock through his pants, which is getting terribly hard at the sight of you trembling from his touch. âYou taste exactly how I thought you would.âÂ
âI've never done this before.â You're scared. It feels so intense, his tongue swirling around your clit, the stimulation shooting sparks straight to your core.Â
Tension is building inside of you, coiling in your lower stomach, threatening to burst.Â
âYou've never cum before?â Titus grip his cock harder when you nod in response.Â
He will have to lock you up in the apartment from now on.Â
Because if you have never tasted pleasure before, if he is your first everything, how is he supposed to ever let you out of his sight?Â
He needs to corrupt you. He needs you begging for him to make you cum once you've grown addicted to it.Â
But first, he needs to show you how good it feels.Â
âPut your hands in my hair.â He commands and you listen, lacing your fingers through his curls. âNow listen carefully. Whenever I do something you like, you tug or I won't know, okay?âÂ
âI don't want to hurt you.â You let out in a quiet little murmur that he finds so precious.Â
Because he wants to fuck you up even more now.Â
His sweet little innocent girl.Â
âThat's not how you answer me.â He takes a bite out of your thigh as punishment, making you yelp from the sudden sting. âDo it right. Are you going to pull my hair when you feel good?Â
âYes, sir.â You immediately tug when he dives back in, thrusting his tongue deep inside of you. You've never felt anything like this before. âOh myââ
You can't breathe when his hand slides between your legs, his thumb swiping over your clit as his tongue ravishes your insides. You're pulling so hard on his hair, holding him there, the pleasure building so quickly that you're feeling like you're going to explode.Â
âWait, wait, Titus, I'm going toââ You squirm when his fingers start playing with your clit, which is getting firmer from his touch, easier for him to rub methodically.Â
The tip of his tongue presses up against that spot right beneath your clit inside of you, teasing it back and forth, and your body gushes.Â
You bite down on your lip as hard as possible when your orgasm crashes through you, flooding every inch of your skin with an unfamiliar heat. It's like your core has been set ablaze, warmth pooling between your legs that Titus is lapping up with his tongue.Â
âGood job.â He praises you, seeing how hard you came for your first time. âYou even squirted a little.â
âSorry.â You feel so embarrassed.Â
âI hate it when you say sorry.â Titus leans back in, sealing his lips around your clit then starts sucking on it, pulling a scream from your lips at the sudden jolt of pleasure.Â
âTitus! Stop, I just came, you can'tââ You cum again before you can get any more words out, your vision going blurry.Â
âYour clit is throbbing.â He flicks it with his tongue, your body convulsing in response. âThat was your punishment for saying sorry. All I want to hear is âthank you for making me cum, sirâ.âÂ
He waits for you to say it. Your heart is pounding so hard in your ears right now that you're unsure if you heard him correctly.Â
But you say it perfectly, âthank you for making me cum, sir.âÂ
âGood girl.â He pulls you towards him, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pokes your nose with his before telling you, ânow we're going to go home and I'm going to do that again. Got it?âÂ
âYes, sir.â You nod. Then, you don't stop yourself from giving him a peck on the lips.Â
And Titus knows, in that moment, that he wants to see this look on your face everyday.
With that heat in your gaze that will only ever be for him.
The drive home is unbelievably uncomfortable because you're so wet between your legs and every bump in the road tortures your swollen clit. Not having any underwear on makes it way worse.Â
Then there's the traffic. So much traffic.Â
It's going to take forever to get home.
Titus glances over at you and he can't help the smile that forms when he sees you squirming. He really likes seeing you all hot and bothered.Â
That's why he decides to have a little more fun. So he turns to you and says, âhold up your skirt.âÂ
âWhat?â You don't know if you heard him right.Â
âI said hold up your skirt. Do it now.âÂ
âTitusâŠâ You glance around.Â
You know the windows of the car are tinted but you both are stuck in bumper to bumper traffic right now. There's cars on all sides of you. Someone is bound to see your bare pussy if they happen to look in.Â
âI'll punish you with something worse if you don't listen.â He makes his threat and you swallow. You're unsure if you can handle another one of his punishmentsâŠÂ
âOkay, okay.â You grab the hem of your dress with both hands and lift it past your hips.Â
âHave you ever touched yourself before?â He asks, his eyes darting between the highway and your pussy, one hand still on the wheel, the other hand unzipping his pants. His cock is going to burst out if he doesn't give it some relief soon.Â
You confess. âNot really. I've never really been interested in sex untilâŠnow.âÂ
If Titus could pull over right here and fuck you, he would. You gulp when he turns to look at you, his gaze more intense than you've ever seen it.Â
âWhy don't you try right now?â He pulls his cock out of his pants and you see it for the first time.Â
Technically, you have seen the outline of his cock many times before, since Titus likes to, on occasion, walk around in just his boxer briefs at the apartment. There was one day that you saw the tip of his cock peeking out but you tore your eyes away before they lingered too long.Â
Now, your eyes are locked on it, on the way his large hand barely wraps around it as he strokes it up and down. Your mind is going fuzzy at the thought that he's this hard because of you. That his cock is leaking pre-cum because of you. That he's touching himself to the sight of you touching yourself, your fingers teasing your clit like he had earlier.Â
âDip your fingers inside of your pussy then rub your clit. It'll feel better.â He instructs.
You do as he says, gathering some of your slick onto the pads of your fingers and sliding back up to your clit. You let out a moan when you start to swirl those methodical circles like Titus had. It does feel much better.Â
âThank you, sir.â You tell him and he groans in response, gripping his cock harder. His other hand is gripping the steering wheel so hard that you can see the whites of his knuckles.Â
âCum with me.â He's getting close.Â
And he cums when you reply, âyes, sir.âÂ
His release hits the dashboard and the steering wheel. He hasn't cum that hard in months. He could cum again from the sight of his leather seats slick with your release. He wishes he was between your legs instead of stuck in traffic right now.Â
You quickly open the glove box, pulling out the car wipes you keep in there, since you occasionally clean Titus's car as one of your work tasks. You quickly clean up for him.Â
Then, when you're done, you look down at his throbbing cock and Titus catches you licking your lips.Â
Before he can say anything, you ask him, âcan I clean you up?âÂ
âWhat if someone sees?â He says playfully, smirking.Â
You feel a rush of heat spread through you. You don't know what you would do if someone saw you with him in your mouth while he's driving. But you definitely want to do it.Â
âIt's okay.â You decide you don't care because, âyou wouldn't let them live if they saw.â
Titus lets out that sinister laugh of his, amused by your words. âI always knew you were a smart girl.âÂ
You unbuckles your seatbelt and proceed to bend over until your face is right above his cock.Â
âCome closer.â He urges you to get on your knees on the seat, pulling your body closer to him. Then, you jolt when his hand slides down the length of your back, pulling up your dress until your ass is exposed. Then, he sinks two fingers into your pussy from this angle without warning.
âWait, Titusââ Now, if anyone looks through the passenger side window, they have a clear view of him fingering you.
âIt's okay.â He smiles mischievously. âI'll kill anyone who dares to look, remember? Just focus on cleaning me up.âÂ
You turn your attention back to his cock, which is surprisingly still hard. You don't know what to do, especially when his fingers are thrusting inside of you, spreading you open in ways you didn't know possible. They're terribly distracting, pushing you closer and closer to your next orgasm.Â
You drag your tongue along the tip of his cock, licking up any leftover cum that's still leaking out. He rewards you by curling his fingers inside of you, making your hips buck.Â
âPut me in your mouth and I'll make you cum real hard.â He teases that spot inside of you, your body trembling in response.Â
You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock then sink down, letting him fill your mouth. You can't fit him all the way in. You barely make it halfway. But that's enough for him to reward you.Â
âSuck and lick me clean while you cum.â He then starts to move his fingers side to side rapidly, sending you into a frenzy from the sudden roughness.Â
You cum uncontrollably, drenching your legs as you suck his cock, your tongue swirling around while you do. You moan with your full mouth when Titus pops his fingers out of you. You pull off of him and help settle him back inside his pants.
âCome here and kiss me.â He gestures for you to kiss him, since he needs to focus on the road still.
You press a kiss against his lips then sit back down, buckling in again. Then you turn to look at him, watching him lick his wet fingers clean. That makes heat pool at core again.Â
âDid that feel good?â He has both hands on the wheel again, now that the bumper to bumper traffic has stopped.Â
âYes, sir.â You say bashfully, your cheeks growing warm.Â
You've never felt anything like this before. But you want to do it again. The pleasure is incredible. The thrill is addictive.Â
But a strange pain pricks you inside.Â
You try to ignore it but it picks at you the entire rest of the ride home.Â
Titus is so eager to kiss you the moment the two of you are home alone but when he goes to do so, you do not seem to match his energy. You kiss him back, sure, but not with the passion he had hoped.Â
âWhat's wrong?â He cups your face with his hands, feeling how fast your pulse is.Â
âI don't know.â You can't quite put words to what's bothering you.Â
Maybe you're just overwhelmed. So much has happened. It's going to take a while to adjust to the new rhythm of things.Â
But you have a feeling that isn't what's lingering in your heart.Â
âTitus.â You say his name when your eyes meet his.Â
He likes the sound of his name from your lips, but not when you sound so sad. It makes him feel something in the pit of his stomach he'd like not to feel.Â
âHave you done that with anyone before?â You know then what is tainting your heart.
It is that ugly envy again. The fear that you are just another one of his playthings. Or worse, a hole for him to fuck and throw away.Â
At least before, you were like a companion. Like a glorified pet. You didn't mind that because you knew no one else had ever been that for him before.Â
This, whatever relationship you are in now, is something else entirely and you are afraid you've just fallen into a position that can be filled by anyone.Â
You yearn to feel special but you don't know if Titus wants to make you feel special.Â
You're about to learn the truth.Â
When he picks you up and carries you into his bedroom, tossing you onto his bed. His sheets smell like him. Like the expensive soap in his shower and the cologne he likes to wear. It makes your heart ache.Â
Like his words do, âdo you think I'd do that for anyone?â
Your throat is so dry all of a sudden. Swallowing your saliva brings no relief. You're so choked up from the fear.Â
You just mumble out, âI don't know.âÂ
âI have never waited to fuck anyone in my life.â He climbs over you, trapping you beneath him. âIf you were just a hole to me, I would've sunk my cock into you on your first day.â
âThen what am I to you?â You ask even though you know he can't give you an answer.Â
How can he? Titus could never marry you. Not with the kind of fucked up family he has.Â
So, what are you to him?Â
âDoes it matter?â He doesn't want to put a label on this.Â
âI don't know.â You don't like answering like that but it's the truth. You don't know if or why it matters to you.Â
âYou're mine. I'm yours. Isn't that enough?â He owns you and you own him. Mutual destruction.Â
âWhat ifâŠâ You whisper the next part because the nerves make your stomach twist, âI get greedy?âÂ
âHow greedy?â Titus likes this. This sudden turn.Â
At first, he was worried you'd try to run from this again and shove him away. But right now, you are pulling him in and not wanting to let him go.Â
âHave youâŠever had a baby with anyone?â You ask because you're unsure. He could have children out there he has no clue about.Â
The chuckle that leaks from his lips sends shivers down your spine. âAre you planning to baby trap me?âÂ
âYou asked me how greedyâŠso I told you.â You may not be able to be his in any kind of official capacity but being the mother of his only child would put you on a pedestal that you can never be removed from.Â
âI've never fucked anyone without protection.â He refuses to stick his cock into anyone raw. There's too much risk.Â
There's no risk with you, his beautiful virgin who has never had anyone but him touch you.Â
âAre you going to wear a condom with me?â His answer to this question will tell you everything you need to know.Â
âThe moment I get to sink my cock into your pussy, it's going in raw.â He smiles at how your expression shifts from that worry to delight. âWould you like that?âÂ
âYes, sir.â You pull him in for a kiss, sealing your words. âI would like that very much.âÂ
âHow much longer are you going to make me wait?â He's already raring to go again right now, his cock aching to be buried inside of you.Â
It's your turn to chuckle, letting him hear that laugh that is like music to his ears. âI didn't realize Mister Almost Trillionaire can't keep it in his pants. You want to fuck me that bad?âÂ
âDesperately.â He finally allows himself to admit out loud.Â
âI don't want it to hurt.â You heard the first time always hurts.Â
âIt won't.â Titus will prepare you well.Â
âThen, whenever you want, we can.â You press a little kiss on his cheek. âJust not tonight.âÂ
He huffs out an annoyed breath. âWhat the fuck? Such a tease.âÂ
âI want to sleep with you tonight. Just sleep. Tomorrow, we can do whatever you want. But tonight, I want to just lay and cuddle. Is that okay, sir?â You bat your eyelashes at him and he lets out a laugh in response.Â
âYou know just how to push me.â He picks you back up into his arms. âYou're getting in the shower with me. We're going to cuddle naked.â
âI'm okay with that.â You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his nice cologne. âAs long as we get to cuddle. I've always wanted to cuddle.âÂ
âIs that the greed spilling out?â He asks as he opens the door to his lavish bathroom.Â
âCan I be more greedy?â You rub your cheek against his shoulder like you used to once he sets you back on your feet. âPlease, sir?âÂ
âWhat do you want?â He should not let you influence him so easily but it's hard when you're acting so cute.Â
âA hug.â You open your arms, since you and Titus have never hugged before.Â
He doesn't even think he has ever hugged anyone. Not like actually. He doesn't like casual touching after all. You've never tried to hug him.
But you want to now.Â
Titus steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and you smile all giddy, rubbing your face against his chest as you squeeze him with your arms. His heart is racing in his chest. He didn't know it was possible to find someone so adorable before.Â
âNow pick me up.â You beam a big smile at him as you wrap your arms around his neck. âCome on, please!âÂ
He glares at you. You are getting bold. But he listens, picking you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggle so beautifully, laying your head against his shoulder.Â
âI've always wanted to do this.â You pepper his neck with kisses before trailing up to his lips, giving him a little affectionate peck there. âThank you, Titus.âÂ
Oh, he's fucked. He's actually so fucked. Because he thought he would be the one fucking you up.Â
But here you are, being the brightest ball of sunshine he has ever experienced, melting his icy soul with a warmth he has never ever thought possible.Â
He might just fall in love with youâŠ
Much to your surprise, Titus does not fuck you the next day. Actually, he doesn't even touch you, at least not sexually. He grabs a hold of your hand to tug you towards him for a hug. He kisses you. He cuddles you in bed or on the couch. But nothing more than that.Â
You don't ask why. You like these more intimate moments. But it's making it harder and harder not to fall in love with him.Â
You know it's silly, though, to think you could ever be his love. Everyone around Titus believes he's incapable of love.Â
Do you believe that?Â
You'reâŠunsure about that.Â
If anything, you think he is very capable of love but he would never admit it. He would never tell anyone that he has all your favorite things memorized. He would never let anyone find out that he knows everything there is to know about you, like what makes you laugh or how much he loves your laugh.Â
Or how much he loves you.Â
He loves you.Â
He does.Â
He realizes that on the private jet ride to another resort, this time tucked away in the mountains, with a private hot spring in each of the luxury cabins.Â
You're going over the itinerary you put together, since you're very excited to go on a little vacation now that you and Titus are being more affectionate. Since it's in a more secluded place with little to no reception, he feels safe about just being himself. It's a resort meant for relaxation and restoration so no phone use allowed anyways.Â
And he knows he loves you because he's excited to spend quality time focused solely on you.Â
Because that must be what love is, right?Â
To want someone all the time, to want to be with them all the time.Â
âWhat are you most excited about, Titus?â You ask him once you finish reading off your list.Â
He can't really tell you that he's excited to fuck you every night this week until you're unable to walk so he just says, âit'll be nice to soak in the hot spring.âÂ
You giggle, nodding in agreement. âMe too. I like that it's private so we can cuddle out in the open.âÂ
Or fuck. He really needs to fuck you.Â
He can't wait any longer.Â
Titus hasn't touched you since that day. He doesn't really know why. He just figured he wanted to enjoy being affectionate with you for a bit. The kisses, the hugs, the cuddling, they all have been better than he thought. He never realizes it could be like this with someone. He feels so at ease around you. You make it easy to be himself.
You aren't afraid of his darker tendencies at all. You don't mind that he glares at the concierge for staring at you for a little too long. You aren't repulsed by his need to keep you close to him now that he is allowed to keep an arm around you at all times.Â
You quite enjoy being the object of his obsession. You have never felt so special before.Â
You wish this could last forever.Â
So, you have a little gift for Titus. One that took a lot of maneuvering to hide from him, since he hasn't let you out of his sight for very long these last few days.Â
You aren't sure when you want to give it to him but when the two of you step into the beautiful hotel room, you decide the sooner the better. You want to see him wear it right away.Â
âTitus, I have something for you.â You open your suitcase and pull out a flat velvet box you had been hiding from him.Â
He stares at it, not knowing how the hell you managed to buy something without him knowing. You are a sneaky girl, aren't you?Â
âWhat the fuck? Who did you bribe to buy that for you?â That must've been it.
âI'm not telling!â You knew he'd think that. âJust open it!âÂ
You hand him the box and he scoffs. He can't believe you got him a gift. He should've gotten you something. He definitely will now. He can't have you get the last laugh.Â
But he hears your beautiful giggle when he opens it and shock colors his features.Â
Inside the box is a necklace delicately woven with thick black thread. In the center is a cute note attached that says: to the threads that bind us âĄ
Then, you show him the matching necklace you're wearing around your neck.Â
And he has never kissed you so quickly before.Â
You smile against his lips, saying in between kisses, âI assume you like it.âÂ
âDid you make this?â You must've. That's the only way you could've snuck it by him.
You nod. âIt's a super high quality thread, waterproof, last longing, the works. You saw me order it. You probably thought it was just for my sewing stuff.âÂ
Titus definitely remembers you ordering it but he assumed it was just a restock of whatever threads you already had. He had no clue you were making something in secret.Â
âSneaky.â He chuckles, and he finds it strange how authentic it is.Â
He hasn't laughed like that in a long time. Without fear of being seen as weak. It's a real, deep from the soul kind of laugh. One of happiness.Â
Maybe that's why the words leave his lips, âI love you.âÂ
Because maybe, deep down, he wants to sabotage this. He wants you to rip out his heart and stomp on it so that he can never trust anyone ever again enough to show weakness. Because that would make him a Danforth.Â
But you blink back tears of joy and say to him, âI love you too, Titus.âÂ
And in that moment, he realizes he isn't a Danforth.Â
He's just Titus.Â
And Titus is in love with you.Â
âI want to marry you.â His words catch you by surprise.Â
âWhat?â You never thought he'd ever say that. âYour father wouldâŠâÂ
âI know.â He knows it's not possible, but not for the reasons you think.Â
Titus loves you too much to subject you to the trials of what it means to become a part of his family. The dirty, dark, fucked up secret he's keeping. The one he will tell you about one day, but not today.Â
Today, he wants to tell you, âI just wanted you to know that I want to. And I hope that's enough.âÂ
You smile that lovely smile that has his heart racing. âMore than enough. I want to marry you too.âÂ
You untie the necklace and Titus holds still while you secure the knot around his neck. The two of you may never wear rings, but you will always be bound together.Â
âNow, can I please fuck you?â Titus cannot hold back anymore.Â
You giggle and then playfully say, âwhat would you do if I said no?âÂ
âI might just pin you down and take you anyways.â It's a real threat because he is done with waiting.Â
âCan you wait just a little longer?â You bat your eyelashes at him, making him groan. âJust until we've unpacked and soaked in the hot spring once. Then, I'm all yours. But I know if we dive right in, we're not leaving that bed and I'd like to enjoy the amenities a bit before the love of my life fucks me silly.âÂ
âThe love of your life.â Titus grabs you and kisses you right then and there, the hunger in his kisses very apparent. âHow the fuck do you expect me to keep it together?âÂ
âI don't know, sir.â You giggle, brushing your nose against his cutely. âI guess you just have to figure it out.âÂ
He growls, low, angry, menacingly. âYou're on thin ice, love.âÂ
âI can't wait to fall in then.â You say with a big smile before pulling him in for another kiss that he instantly melts into.Â
Titus hates that you take your sweet ass time unpacking. He knows you're doing it on purpose too. Like you're just sitting there, sorting your toiletries. You've never done that before.Â
He knows you're just doing it to stall because you like riling him up. You will grow to regret testing him like this.Â
But he is patient. He is waiting so patiently because he knows the moment you're in bed with him, his cock is not leaving your pussy for the next week.Â
Maybe the next month.
Maybe the next year.Â
He could reserve this place for that long if he wanted to.
Maybe he will. Why not?Â
He's one of the richest men in the world.
He can spend his money however he wants.Â
âAre you coming in or not?â You call out to Titus, who is obviously lost in his own thoughts. You know you've teased him to the breaking point now.Â
Which is why you pull off all your clothes while he's watching before getting into the hot spring.Â
Titus practically rips his clothes off to join you and you laugh so hard when he grabs you and pulls you onto his lap the moment he gets into the water. He is desperate to touch your skin to his skin like this, his cock throbbing against your lower stomach.Â
âI could fuck you right now.â He whispers into your ear before nipping at your earlobe. âYou're making it very difficult not to.âÂ
âYou promised me you would make sure it wouldn't hurt.â You don't want him to rush this.Â
âIt won't hurt.â He's going to make you cum plenty before his cock does.Â
You hug him and then say into the crook of his neck, âI am a little scaredâŠâ
And, for some reason, Titus holds onto you a little tighter when you say that.Â
âWhat are you scared of?â He starts rubbing small circles on your back, trying to comfort you.
He has never comforted someone before. But he wants to for you.Â
âYou might be too big.â You feel a little flustered saying that out loud. âLike, are you really going to fit?âÂ
He groans then slaps your ass, making you shriek. âYou scared the fuck out of me! That's what you're worried about?âÂ
âIt's a valid worry.â You squint at him. âHave you ever taken a cock that big?âÂ
âI never take it.â He says with a smirk and you chuckle then smack his chest.
âSee! You don't get it. It's intimidatingâŠâ You glance downwards, highly aware of how deep his cock would go inside of you when it does.Â
âIt will be fine.â He leans in, kissing you on the cheek. âI promise, love.â
âI trust you, sir.â You lay your head back on his shoulder.Â
âYou'll end up enjoying how big I am.â He'll get you to crave being filled up with his cock.
âI hope so.â Your words make his cock twitch. âIt felt really good to cum. I bet it'll be even better to cum together.â
âYou're killing me.â He grunts against your skin, digging his teeth into your shoulder because he needs some kind of relief. âI want to fuck you so badly.âÂ
âHopefully it's worth the wait.â You are a tad bit worried about being boring in bed. You're sure Titus has preferences you can't quite live up to yet.Â
âYou are worth the wait.â Titus pulls you in closer, kissing you softly. It's the softest kiss he has ever done. So gentle, so sweet. âI don't want to be anywhere but right here with you.âÂ
âWho knew you were such a romantic?â You giggle, hugging him tighter. âI love you so much, Titus.âÂ
Now, he is officially done waiting.Â
Titus lifts you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he hauls the two of you out of the hot spring and back inside. He doesn't care how dripping wet he is.Â
He just needs you sprawled out on the bed in front of him as soon as possible.Â
He drops you onto the bed, climbing on top of you. You look up at him, and he knows that look in your eye is full of love.Â
âYou have no fucking clue how much I've wanted you under me like this.â Titus stares down at your naked body beneath him, reveling in the sight of how shy and flustered you are. âYou're so pretty.âÂ
âHave you always been a flirt?â You giggle and he starts plastering your body with kisses, trying to draw more of that lovely sound from you. âThat tickles!â
âHave you always been this cute?â His words warm your heart so much.Â
âI love you like this.â You tell him, seeing how relaxed he looks, the tension gone from his features. You brush your fingertips along his jaw until you cup his face. âCan we stay like this forever?âÂ
Titus nods, pressing a kiss into your palm to seal his promise. Then, he starts to kiss down the length of your arm, until he reaches your shoulder. From there, he trails lower, to your chest. You bite back a sound when he drags his tongue over each of your nipples, which have perked up already.Â
âI've been waiting to do that and this.â He says before he takes one of them between his teeth, nibbling just enough to send shivers all over you. âFeel good?â
You nod. âYes, sir.âÂ
âIt'll feel better with my fingers inside of you.â He nudges you to lay on your side, facing him. He spreads your legs, his hand slipping between them, groaning when he feels how wet you are for him already. âIs this for me?âÂ
âOnly for you, sir.â You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers into his hair, tugging it when he slowly thrusts a finger inside of you. That encourages him to add another, spreading you wide, helping you adjust to the size.Â
He latches back onto your breasts, playing with your sensitive nipples, swirling around the hard peaks as his fingers curl inside of you, looking for just the right spot to thrust against. You tug his hair when he finds it and moan when he starts to tease it, making you grind your hips against his hand.Â
âYou better do that on my cock.â Titus is barely keeping it together. He wants to be inside of you already. But he promised he wouldn't let it hurt.Â
So, he needs to make you cum a few times.Â
You're getting close to your first orgasm already, the dual stimulation inching you closer and closer. Then, when Titus starts to palm your clit, you let go completely, letting the first wave of pleasure take over you.
He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, but starts to kiss down the length of your body. You know what's about to happen next, your hands still in his hair, ready to tug when his lips seal over your clit.Â
The burst of pleasure distracts you from him adding in another finger, the pressure building inside of you. You're clamping down on his fingers so hard. He wishes it was his cock instead. But he needs you to loosen up a bit more. You won't be able to take him if you're this tight.Â
âRelax, love.â His hand rests on your lower stomach, rubbing it gently. âYou can take it. Just breathe. Focus on your clit.âÂ
Easy for him to say. He isn't the one being pried open. But you close your eyes, tuning your attention to the softness of his tongue and the warmth of his hand on your skin. He eases his fingers deeper inside of you, until he's brushing up against a spot so deep, you start to squirm, tugging at his hair.Â
âRight here?â He curls his fingers and you squirt in response, finally loosening up, gasping for air.Â
That was more intense than the last orgasm. And Titus is tempted to tease you more, to thrust his fingers relentlessly right there, to see you convulsing and screaming. But then he sees that adorably flustered look on your face. He wants to enjoy that a little bit longer.Â
âNow imagine the tip of my cock grinding right here.â He pushes against that spot again, making your lower body shake so much that he has to hold you still with his other hand pinning you down by your stomach. âYou'll be cumming like crazy.âÂ
âI don't know if I can handle that.â You feel like you could pass out right now.Â
âYou can. You will. Just enjoy it.â Titus starts to thrust his fingers in and out at a slow pace, letting you get used to the motion.Â
It feels better than you thought it would, the friction growing more and more intoxicating. You're going to burst at the seams again the moment he curls his fingers. He knows you will.Â
So, he doesn't. And you don't know how to react to the edging. You've never experienced it before, to be taken so close to the edge but then not all the way. He slows before you can cum then once you've rested enough, picks back up until you're close again.Â
âTitus, please.â You want to cum, your hips desperately grinding against his fingers but he won't let you.Â
âAsk properly.â He finally lets out that sadistic smile he has been dying to let free.Â
He loves seeing you like this. Your skin hot, your breaths heavy, your pussy aching to cum.Â
âPlease make me cum, sir.â You plead exactly the way you figure he'd want you to.Â
And Titus rewards you well.Â
Maybe a little too well.Â
You're screaming his name when his fingers starts to fuck you without any care for how hard you're cumming on them. You try to pull away from him, to run from the sudden onslaught of pleasure but he's holding you steady, not letting you go.Â
Instead, Titus leans down, his lips sealing over your clit again, and when he lightly sucks on it, you're seeing stars in your vision, the orgasms compounding exponentially.Â
You don't know if you ever stop cumming. You definitely have soaked the sheets, along with his face. He licks it up happily, like it's his reward for making you cum so much.Â
You feel a little empty when he pulls his fingers out of you. You feel even more empty when he gets up from bed.Â
âWhere are you going?â You try not to sound too sad but you can't control it.Â
âJust grabbing some water.â He cracks open one of the water bottles the place provides and brings it back to you, climbing back into bed. âI wasn't going to leave you.âÂ
You didn't think he was but it definitely feels strange, coming down from the high of an orgasm. It's like it sinks all your other feelings down too.Â
âCome here, love.â He sits up in bed, patting his lap.Â
You straddle his lap, taking the water bottle he hands you and sipping it. You definitely needed to quench your thirst. Titus wraps his arms around you, pulling you right up against his chest.Â
Then, he goes, âhelp me with the water. My hands are full.â
You chuckle, finding this a little silly but you lift the water bottle to his lips and help him drink. You set the empty bottle aside so you can wrap your arms around his neck, laying your head against his chest, just hugging him for a bit.Â
He rubs your back, trying to soothe any worries you may have had. Thoughts you shouldn't be having cross your mind and he catches the light sigh you breathe into his skin.Â
âWe don't have to have sex tonight.â Titus might actually fucking die if he has to wait any longer but he doesn't want you to be scared.Â
He wants you to fully enjoy it with him.Â
But can you, when you keep thinking aboutâŠ
âDoes it bother you that I'm inexperienced?â A part of you is afraid that taking things so slow is a burden. It is, but that's not because of you. That's only because Titus wants to fuck you so badly that taking things slow is killing him.Â
But he's okay with the slow death.Â
Because he knows the pay off will be well worth it. âI like that you are.âÂ
âReally?â You don't think Titus would lie to you. At least not right now.Â
âI like knowing that I'm going to be the only person who ever gets to touch you.â You truly are his in that sense.Â
âI wish I could say the same about you.â You feel selfish saying that, but you let it out anyways. âI feel strange when I think about you touching other people like you have to me.âÂ
âI haven't touched them like I have with you.â That's the truth.Â
âWhat do you mean?â You can't imagine that's right.Â
âDo you really think I'd go down on just anyone?âÂ
âWellâŠyeahâŠâÂ
He glares at you. âAnd here I thought you didn't judge me.âÂ
âI'm not judging you! I just figured you must like doing it since you're so good at it.â He had to learn from somewhere, right?Â
âYou think I'm good at it?â He pulls you in closer. âDid I make you feel good?âÂ
âObviously.â You are not going to stroke his ego any more than this. âThat's why I feel likeâŠif you made someone else feel like that too, IâŠâÂ
âIf they came on my cock, then they came on my cock. I wasn't fucking them to make them cum. I was fucking them to make myself cum.â Which is fucked up to say out loud but Titus is fucked up and you know that so there's no point in pretending he isn't. âBut with you, I want to make you cum. A lot. Especially with my cock.âÂ
âSo, that was all for me? You've never done that with anyone else before?â You hate asking but you want the confirmation.Â
âYou're the only one I've ever wanted to touch. You're the only one I've held naked.âÂ
âWhat?â That surprises you.Â
âI despise being touched, especially skin on skin.â His words seem a bit ridiculous considering the fact that you're naked, pressed up against him right now while he's completely naked too. âBut I like touching you. Only you, love.âÂ
âIs it bad that I like that?â You want things that are for you and you only.Â
âIs it bad that I really wanted to make you beg to cum?â He refers to earlier.
âYes.â You take a bite out of his neck as punishment for that. âThat was mean.âÂ
âYou liked it.â He smirks, pulling you in for a kiss.Â
You smile against his lips. You can't help it. You love kissing Titus so you deepen the kiss, your tongue tangling with his, enjoying his lips on yours for a bit longer.Â
He lays you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he settles himself between your legs. You can feel his cock throbbing against your stomach.Â
âWe don't have to.â He breathes out onto your lips. âIf you're scared.âÂ
You look down, contemplating how daunting the thought of fitting him inside of you will ultimately be. But you want to have sex with him. You want to feel that close with him.Â
But you need him to promise first. âThe moment you fuck me, you aren't allowed to fuck anyone else ever again. I'll kill you if you do.â
âMy sunshine has a dark side.â He likes this version of you. The possessive you.Â
âYou're a bad influence.â You say with a big smile.Â
âDefinitely.â He nods firmly. âBecause if you even think about fucking anyone else, you're never leaving my bed.â
âI like being in your bed.â You confess. These last few days sleeping beside him have been so wonderful. âCan I stay there forever anyways?âÂ
âYou don't have to ask. You're obligated to because there won't be a day that goes by where I'm not going to be fucking you.â Titus has waited long enough.Â
From this moment forward, your pussy will keep his cock warm forever.Â
And you can't wait anymore either. âThen I'm ready.âÂ
You expect to feel Titus's cock but he slips three fingers back inside of you, just to make sure. You wriggle a bit when he thrusts them in deep again and before you can say another word about how he's curling them, his lips press against yours.Â
You've never cum while kissing him before, the rush making you all lightheaded from the breathlessness. His fingers don't stop moving, fucking you through your orgasm, making another one build all too quickly. But he pulls out before you can cum again.Â
And this time, he lines up his cock, the tip of it pushing against your entrance.Â
âNow you're ready.â He says with a smile against your lips. âDeep breath for me, love.â
You listen, taking in a deep breath as he sinks the tip of his cock inside of you. Titus lays his forehead against yours, groaning at the feeling of how warm and wet you are wrapped up around him. He isn't even fully inside of you yet but he knows there's nowhere else he wants to be from now on.Â
You were expecting some pain but it's mostly that pressure that Titus has familiarized you with using his fingers. He helps keep your mind off the increasing pressure with his lips on yours and his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples as he sinks another inch of himself inside of you. You tug at his hair, wanting him to keep going, basking in the grin he gives you in response.Â
He's about halfway seated inside of you when he pulls off your lips to say, âI'm going to start moving now. You know what to do if something feels good.â
âYes, sir.â You nudge him playfully with your nose and he nips at it with his teeth, his cock throbbing inside of you at your words. âI love you.âÂ
âI love you too.â Titus is so madly in love with you.Â
Because that's the only reason he's going so slow. If he had his way, he'd be pounding into you, forcing your pussy to take him instead of easing it into things. One day, he'll have his fun.Â
But today, he'll make love. He has always, secretly, wanted to fall in love. Maybe that's why when the opportunity presented itself, it wasn't difficult for him to dive right into you.Â
You're everything he isn't. The light in his darkness.Â
The love of his life, looking so beautiful as he slowly starts to move, finding a rhythm that adds a bit more of himself inside of you with each thrust. You tug at his hair when the tip of his cock teases the swallower spot closer to your entrance, so he makes sure to spend some time there before thrusting as far in as he can go.Â
âI'm going to cum if you keep doing that.â Your words don't dissuade him.Â
Actually, it encourages him to pull his cock completely out of you, the sudden pop pushing you over the edge, your orgasm overwhelming you instantly. He likes the sight of your body shivering all over from the pleasure. He likes it even better knowing it's because of his cock.Â
He goes to sink back in but you shake your head, saying, âwait, wait, I need a second.âÂ
âNo, you don't.â He knows you're just afraid to cum again so soon.Â
You are, because you cum the moment he thrusts back inside and then pulls completely out again, wetness pooling between your legs. That makes it much easier for Titus to slide back inside all the way, filling you deeper than he has before.Â
âI'm right here.â He presses down against your lower stomach, kneading where your womb is, the tip of his cock pushing right up against it. âHow does it feel?âÂ
âToo good.â You admit, feeling so shy at how easily he's making you unravel. âI'm going to cum again if you move.âÂ
âYou're very sensitive.â He's happy you are. He's going to drown you in pleasure.Â
âIt's because of you, sir.â You pull him down to kiss you then you place a kiss against his cheek with such much affection. âThank you for waiting for me.âÂ
âYou're going to make me cum if you keep acting so cute, love.â He peppers your face with lovely kisses, making you giggle.Â
âCum with me?â You really want him to.Â
âAlways.â He wants to cum feeling you clenching tightly around him from your orgasm.Â
So, he slides his hands down, grabbing a hold of your hips, and then starts to finally fuck you. You're not expecting to feel so much but his cock is rubbing up against every inch of your pussy with every stroke. It's going to be hard to hold your orgasm.Â
He feels the same. Now that he's wrapped so perfectly inside of you, he's getting close. He'll have to pace himself better next time.Â
But for right now, he is content to cum if it means you will too.Â
Your whole body tenses when he starts thrusting into you a bit faster, the sound of him slamming his cock inside of you filling the air. You tug him down so you can crash your lips against his, wanting to be kissing him when you both cum. His tongue slips inside your mouth, stealing your breath away, making you dizzy from how good everything feels all together.Â
You cum the moment warmth spills inside of you, unfamiliar but so very nice. Because you know Titus has never done this before.Â
And he desperately wants to do it again.Â
âCan I flip you over?â He asks, his cock still hard and throbbing inside of you.Â
âDon't you need a break?â You figured at his age, also being a man, don't they need time between?
âI need this. I need you. Please, love.â He just wants to pound you into the next oblivion.Â
You nod, letting him slip out of you before you flip over, getting on your hands and knees. Titus kisses a line down your spine, the sight of you like this better than when he would fantasize about it.
âMy beautiful love.â He groans seeing the sight of your swollen pussy from him fucking you. âI'm going to fuck you up now. I'm not stopping, no matter what.âÂ
Your toes curl at the thrill that sparks through you. âGo ahead, sir. I'm all yours.â
He growls, unable to keep the animalistic side of him any longer. âYou are all mine. The very object of my obsession. I'm going to enjoy this.âÂ
Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he thrusts into you from this angle, fitting so much more of himself than before. You're cumming already, your legs growing weak from the shivers. He smacks your ass, adding to the shakes.Â
âYou won't last long if you cum that easily.â He makes it very difficult not to cum, though.Â
Titus doesn't ease you in this time. He pulls completely out of you then rams the entire length of his cock deep inside of you. Over and over, until you're squirting on his cock with every forceful thrust. You're digging your nails into the sheets, leaning your upper body down against the soft pillows to cushion how hard he's fucking you all of a sudden.Â
âTitus, it's too much, I can'tââ He answers your pleads by sliding his hand between your legs and rubbing your clit with the same intensity as he's fucking you, pulling gasp after gasp from your lips.Â
You're going to pass out from the orgasms, your mind going hazing from the constant release.Â
âYou're going to kill me.â You can't possibly keep cumming like this. You'll lose your mind if you do. âYou need to stopââ
âIt's okay, love. You can take it.â He feels you drench his fingertips when he says that, still abusing your clit. âJust let it happen. Cum your brains out.âÂ
You opt then to just bite the pillow beneath you, muffling your screams as he pounds into you ruthlessly, his fingers rubbing your swollen clit raw. The pleasure is endless, sweeping over you in intense waves.Â
There's nothing in your mind except for Titus. He's consumed you completely. You call out his name as you cum again and again.Â
This is everything he has been dreaming about. You, lost in the euphoria, giving into him. You'll never leave him now that you've had a taste of what he can do for you.Â
âI love you.â He loops on repeat as his thrusts get quicker, his orgasm inching closer.Â
Your words in response are completely incoherent, just cute little mumbles. You're so far gone, which pulls the most evil laugh out of Titus.Â
You're an absolute mess by the time he finally cums inside of you, your body unable to hold yourself up anymore. He pulls out of you, letting you collapse onto your side and then he plops down behind you, wrapping his arms around you, spooning you. He places warm kisses along your shoulder blades, rubbing your lower belly as you come down from your intense high. You moan a little when his fingers press in, making you well aware of how full you are inside.Â
âMaybe we should get you some birth control.â He says, nipping at your earlobe. âI want to enjoy fucking you a bit longer before I put a baby inside of you.âÂ
âI have the arm implant.â Your words make him still.Â
âWhat?âÂ
You chuckle, flipping over to look at him, âyou didn't think I'd let you fuck me that raw the first time, did you?â
âYou sneaky little girl.â He takes a bite out of your neck in protest, marking you quite obviously. âHow dare you hide that from me.â
âI didn't hide it. I justâŠomitted the truth?â You smirk, showing him that you aren't just a bundle of sunshine.Â
You trapped him just as much as he trapped you.
Truly his equal, in every way.Â
âYou know I'm going to have to punish you for that, love.â He will have to think up something good. Maybe tying you down and edging you until you're crying and begging to be fucked.Â
âI look forward to it, sir.â You say with a big smile before pulling him in for a kiss. Then, you breathe out with all the warmth in your afterglow, âI love you, Titus.âÂ
âYou're lucky I love you, or I would be very fucking pissed right now.â He can't believe you hid that from him.Â
âMmm, maybe I like you angry.â You nuzzle his nose with yours. âYou're never angry with me. It's a nice change of pace.â
He glares at you. âYou might be the only person in the world who wants to piss me off.âÂ
âAnd you love it!â You wrap your arms around him, hugging him.Â
âYes. I do love it.â He lets out a sigh of defeat, smiling as he hugs you back, loving that the two of you can cuddle like this.Â
He has truly met his match.Â
Because you're as obsessed with him as he is with you.Â
A/N: Are yâall impressed at my willpower? I wanted to challenge myself and not have them fuck right away and oh my goodness was that a challenge! I love writing smut so much (so of course I had to still add lots of naughty smut haha) but I was craving a lovey dovey, cutesy, fucked up slow burn after my last fic so I hope you all enjoyed this read! âĄÂ
If ANY of yall EVER do this shit to me, im deleting every single fic out of spite.
If I ever catch one of yall doing this to another author and I know youre a follower of my work I will block you personally on every platform
None of yall are the fic police. I DESPISE genai. I think its an insult to art, humanity, and the planet itself. But aint not a single fucking person here qualified to pick apart a strangers fic looking for a gotcha moment to make yourselves feel superior. If you think something is ai you can ask the author (most are proud of the ai use and will just tell you straight up) if they say yes you have your answer and can warn people. If they say no and you dont believe them you block and quietly keep it between you and maybe a close group of friends. Spreading misinformation is DANGEROUS. And NONE of you doing this shit are anywhere near qualified to do it.
Posting this here from my main too bc I feel that strongly about it
You dont get to witch hunt and scour peoples work just frothing at the mouth hoping someone messes up so you can publicly humiliate and gang up on them. Fuck genai and every single poser and lover that uses it but if you are not 1000000000% certain that something is made with it you shut. the. fuck. up.
I'm about to get mean because this shit? this pisses me all the way off.
"hurr durr these very common writing practices are SUPER OBVIOUS AI TELLS!!!!!!!!!! obviously this is an AI invention and not the result of AI being trained on THOUSANDS OF REAL FUCKING STORIES!!!!!!! we're all very intelligent!!!!!!!"
I hate yall. I hate yall for fucking ruining fanfic with your goddamn motherfucking AI obsession. "ooh there's em dashes!" YEAH REAL WRITERS USE THOSE. "there's long paragraphs!" YEAH BECAUSE THATS HOW PEOPLE WRITE STORIES.
we're not "writing like AI" - AI is writing like us, because it fucking stole from us in the first fucking place.
I've never used AI in my work, not ever, but guess what, my fics are ALL written like that. long paragraphs, long sentences, em dashes and hyphens and other grammatical tools, because I fucking know HOW TO WRITE.
quite frankly, if you think these things are "genAI inventions" you're just telling the world that YOU DON'T READ ENOUGH.
saw someone say that flipflopping between british english and american english was a "tell" and just did the haha im in danger chuckle to myself. girl im american and i was raised on neopets! i'm not keeping this shit consistent!
âčââĄâ consequences | dk x bk x reader ââĄââč
ââŽïžËïœĄâ you and katsuki find out what happens when you push izuku too farâïœĄËâŽïžâ 1.2k wc
Ù àŁȘâ cw: 18+, established poly relationship, dom!brat tamer!izuku, switch!brat!katsuki, sub!fem!brat!reader, brat taming, edging, orgasm denial, humiliation, ruined orgasm, orgasm control, vibrator use, dacryphilia, degradation (kinda idk just to be safe), light breath play, teasing, spitting, spit swallowing, immobility, discipline/punishments, this is straight up smut
Ù àŁȘâ author's note: this started as an ask and then i accidentally went in a totally random direction with it so it gets to be its own post! not rlly proofread and lowkey not edited, please let me know if i forgot any tags!
âkeep her legs open, kacchan.â
youâre having a difficult time remembering how exactly you got yourself into this position.... of course, part of it you know; rage baiting izuku is way too easy, and it's so fun to watch him simmering below the surface just knowing that you're gonna get it all back later. today though, you severely miscalculated his mood, and now you're paying for it.
âwhat the hell does it look like iâm doing?â katsukiâs long, soft fingers are cupping the fat of your thighs, keeping your legs parted no matter how much you try to squeeze them closed. your head is pressed into his chest, eyes fluttering as you strain to look at his face.
in front of you, izuku has both of your wrists locked in his own firm grip. heâs keeping one of your hands in place, forcing you to hold the buzzing vibrator against your clit as you pant and moan. he flits his eyes up to katsukiâs face, cocks his brow as he says, âit looks to me like youâre talking back.â
you can feel the pulsating of katsuki's heavy cock, pressed against the plush of your ass â it makes you squirm and fight the strong arms that restrain you. you turn your head, batting your eyes at the blonde as your chest heaves. a silent question is held in your longing gaze: help me?
he snorts. "what are you lookin' at me for?" when he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice is barely above a whisper. "you're just diggin' yourself deeper, sweetheart." you heave a sigh and reluctantly look back at the man in front of you.
izuku clicks his teeth, sets his mouth in a disappointed line; his usual gentle and permissive nature is nowhere to be found. you screw your eyes shut in frustration, still unwilling to accept defeat. in response, he meanly presses your wrist down, harder. you gasp as the overstimulation makes your toes curl, makes a fresh bead of sweat roll down the back of your neck. "so you listen to kacchan?"
"i-i listen to you both...!" you squeak, trailing off into another pitchy moan when izuku switches a setting on the toy, changing from pulsing to consistent vibrations.
katsuki chuckles behind you, muttering "please," under his breath in amusement.
izuku just rolls his eyes. "add lying to the list," he says, green eyes narrowed at your flushed face. when you start to protest, he sighs and turns the intensity of the vibrations up by one, making you squeal and writhe, of course to no avail. "you've really been pushing my buttons all day." it's too bad for you, he's not in a very nice mood right now. when your legs start to shake, he asks "what are we at?"
right, you were supposed to be keeping track... you're trembling all over, the churning in your gut indicating another orgasm is building. you swallow hard, intending to reply, but a shuddering gasp comes out instead.
izuku sighs, forcing your fingers open and dropping the vibrator into his waiting palm, murmuring about simple questions and simple rules. it's cruel, he's stolen the sensation too soon and ruined the pleasure that should have come. he always knows exactly when you're getting close, his timing alarmingly accurate; he knows your body and it's reactions like the back of his own hand.
you sob and whine, and one of katsuki's thumbs traces the skin of your inner thigh. he placatingly kisses a trail down your temple, unable to stop himself from licking his lips when they make contact with your wet cheek. he hums at the salty taste, kissing you again, your jaw this time; it's a small show of solidarity, acknowledging his role in earning you your punishment. he's always the one who spurs you on, goading you into doubling down on your bratty behavior, and today it blew up in both your faces.
at least he's feeling sweet on you right now; usually when izuku is teaching you a lesson, katsuki is the devil on his shoulder, but today he's in the hot seat right alongside you. however, izuku has different gripes with you both, and so his treatment is different too.
katsuki's breath feels so nice against your skin, and you grind back into him as best you can; he groans into you, pressing his forehead into the junction between your neck and shoulder as he shoves his hips forward against your ass, desperately seeking any relief. his cock is dripping pre all over you, sliding down your flesh and making his thighs all sticky. he's so big behind you, heat emanating off his skin in waves; it's overwhelming, the caramel scent of his sweat curling in your nose.
"i see we're both feeling bratty today," izuku tuts, turning off the vibrator and tossing it to the side with a sigh. "i think some of us are forgetting the rules."
he lifts on to his knees so he's towering over you both and slaps at katsuki's hands, indicating he should let go of your legs. you whimper when he does and your legs reflexively snap together, puffy sex sensitive to any sudden movements.
izuku places heavy hands on your shoulders and slowly pushes you back, down, you into katsuki and he the pillows behind him. "spread," he orders, and katsuki helps you hike your knees up and back, exposing your creamy pussy to izuku's hawkish stare. he bears down on you, moving one of his hands to katsuki's shoulder to brace himself, as he uses the other to line his cock up at your entrance, nudging his angry red tip against your clit just to tease you.
he's heavy against the heat of your sex, your slick soaking him all over, but he doesn't slip inside you yet â his movements are slow, deliberate. he teases at your slit and you gush, staring up at him with wide, dewy eyes as he leans close to your face, his curls tickling your skin and sending shivers arcing down your spine. his breath is wet in your ear when he reminds you,
"you cum when i say so."
izuku shifts the hand on katsuki's shoulder to brace against the hollow of his throat; you can feel the blonde's heart racing at your back. izuku leans over your head to give the man behind you a wet, sloppy kiss, the sound washing over you blissfully. you clench around nothing, the emptiness in your achy cunt bordering on painful. craning your neck to get a better look, you watch izuku place a loving peck against kacchan's lips before he taps them with his thumb, tugging the bottom one down slightly. taking the hint, katsuki lets his mouth fall open, and izuku lovingly spits â gifting the blonde graciously, affording him a small smile when he swallows the glob down obediently.
vermillion eyes are locked on green as izuku pulls back, letting his smile settle into a smug expression.
"and you, kacchanâ"
he gives katsuki's throat a gentle squeeze as he finally, finally, finally eases his cock into your gaping hole, bottoming out in one swift maneuver; it leaves both of you gasping and keening.
izuku has his two little brats right where he wants them, bullied into submission and begging him for whatever he's willing to throw their way.
"you don't cum at all."
Ù àŁȘâ a/n: yay! bkdk porn yay!
as always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
taglist :3 @shotorizawa @hachikinss @lonelyfooryouonly
(to join you must be over 18, age in bio and following me!
hockey captain! toji is a liability to himself and everyone who steps onto the ice. the type of player who lives for the thrill of shouldering opponents against frosted glass and hearing the cheers that ring out from the stands.
heâs brutal, using his full weight to take players down for fun, throwing fists elbows at the first sound of backtalk from the other team. itâs a miracle he still has the athletic scholarship he entered college with, all things considered.
and the crowd loves it. every millisecond of carnage is already making itâs rounds online by the 20 minute mark. local headlines singing his praises, edits already being made, hundreds of fans live tweeting with the hashtag fushiguro. youâre starting to think some of the guys in the nhl donât even get this much attention.
but when the final buzzer sounds and heâs finally off the ice? youâd be surprised at how fast all that vigor gets channeled into something else.
âyou see that goal?â he shouts, stepping off of the ice to pull you into a bone crushing hug in front of the stands. the crowd goes wild, cheering the both of you on as he takes off his helmet to press a kiss to your temple.
âgod, toji. youâre bleeding.â you huff, dabbing at the drying trickle of red leaking from his nose. âtold you no more headbutting.â
he smiles, still high on adrenaline and not at all registering what youâre saying. he leans in to bury his face in your neck, drawing a collective âawwâ from the fans eagerly watching the two of you.
he does this every game, and youâd be lying if you said it didnât turn you on at least a little. angling his head down just enough to make it look like heâs embracing you, and not mouthing at your neck like a freak.
âfuck, youâre gorgeous.â he rasps quietly. the way he says it sounds so strained. like heâs fighting to keep his bravado up and not lose it in front of all the cameras on you two. you feel his tongue flit out shyly against your skin, then again, harder this time.
you pat his back shyly, knees wobbling the slightest bit as he sucks on a sensitive spot right by your clavicle. he presses his hips against you quick enough where no one will notice, groaning at the stimulation even through the guard he's wearing.
âyouâre gonna leave a mark.â you grumble, turning to lead him through the exit and into the athlete's hall before he starts stripping down in front of the fans.
you canât help but wonder what everyone in the arena would think if they knew their star player got hard in his jock cup every time he scored a goal. or how his teammates would feel knowing their captainâs favorite post-game celebration is getting sucked off in a supply closet with his hand fisted in your hair.
âyouâre why i play, yâknow that?â toji growls, shedding his lower half of his gear before easing himself out of his bottoms and into your awaiting mouth. his helmet and skates lie dormant in the corner, skin burning hit despite the hour he just spent on the ice.
you hum around his length as soon as he hits your tongue, craning your head back to adjust to the size of him.
toji babbles praises for you like a songbird. heâs more pliable when he gets like this, letting you touch him however you see fit as long as it gets you both off somehow.
âfuck, wait till i sign that nhl contract.â he sighs, fingers tightening with every new inch that sinks between your lips. âcould buy you whatever you want on that dime.â toji promises. âcould fuck you in a different city every week.â
his enthusiasm would almost be cute if he wasnât 7 inches deep in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks just to hear him groan, thighs clenching at the way his voice reverberates in his chest. you stand when he taps your head with his fingers, accepting the shaky hand he offers to pull you up.
your lips meet almost immediately, and the contact alone is enough to make his dick jump. toji palm your breasts over the fabric of your top, shucking the fabric up and off of your body before letting it fall to the floor.
your bra is next to go as he turns you toward the wall, letting you situate yourself before he leans forward to trace a path down your spines with his mouth.
âpretty girl. the prettiest.â he whispers, patting your ass almost lovingly before shucking your bottoms and panties off with a purpose. strong hands knead the curve of your ass like dough as he spreads your heat, leaning forward to lick at your dripping mound.
âbend.â he tells you, letting go only briefly to slap his palm against the meat of your thigh. your hips press back almost immediately, giving him more room to work with.
the feeling is too much and not enough at the same time, pushing you toward you edge at a speed you know all too well. you whimper when you hear him suck on his fingers briefly, feeling one of his spit-soaked fingers joins the mix soon after.
toji rubs over your little nub, back and forth through your glossy folds like it pays the bills. before long, youâre closing your fingers around his wrist with a cry.
âwhat, too close?â he muses, parting from your folds with a vulgar smack of his lips. he wipes his mouth off on his jersey sleeve before standing to his full height, holding your hips in place while he lines himself up.
âhurry.â you grumble, pressing your body back until you feel the head of him catch against your hole. toji slides home with a happy grunt, filling you to the brim with an indescribable feeling.
âwhy do you always end up being the impatient one, hm?â he teases, rocking you back and forth on his dick with you crowded against the wall.
âi missed you.â you reason, sparing a glance back at him to see the look on his face. the sight youâre rewarded with has you pussy clenching down hard. you take a moment to watch the way his bangs hang over his eyes, how his eyes narrow every time he bottoms out and his balls smack against your seam, the way his lips press together like heâs trying to keep his moans at bay.
âmissed you too, angel.â he groans, throwing his head back with a noise that can only be described as pornographic.
you wonât last much longer, and toji knows judging by the way his he angles his hips to buck up against the spot inside of you. his hand comes up to guide your face towards him as you cum, taking in every minute expressing that crosses your face.
âlook at me.â he commands, pressing your cheeks together with a grin. âthere we go, good job baby. look at me when i cum.â hit seed floods your lower half as he empties his load inside of you. you tremble like a lead in his grip, feeling overstim take over as youâre gripped and kneaded from every angle.
the ride back down to earth feels heavenly. the throb between your legs dulls to a soft ache as toji eases out of you, quickly shucking your panties up to catch the mess. you swat at him with a laugh, stepping away from the wall with shaky legs and a smile.
âyou played better this match.â you tell him, flipping your shirt right side out with a hum.
toji looks at the ground and laughs. if you didnât know any better youâd swear he was blushing.
âdonât say that iâm gonna get hard again.â he huffs. you watch him lace his skates up with a familiar warmth under your skin, taking his hand as he guides you back outside and toward the hall.
âcmon, got a press conference in 10. wanna get you a good seat.â
âpairing: clark kent x bombshell!reader (part two) (3.0K words)
summary: as one of the daily planet's most popular gossip column writers, clark is surprised to learn you're a genius when it comes to superman. he's also surprised to learn you aren't all heels and makeup..
so how do you react to finding out he's the superhero you're utterly obsessed with?
warnings & content: bombshell!reader, female reader, not technically bimbo reader but others assume so, clark is whipped from the start and somehow becomes more whipped, reader double majored in stats and journalism go smart girls go!
Ù àŁȘâ this is a part two to mastermind! i hope you love this one as much as the first! // requests for clark are currently open!
If you wouldâve asked anyone at the Daily Planet newsroom how long it wouldâve taken for you and Clark Kent to get together, they wouldâve said you already were. Of course Lois and Jimmy had made bets, too.
Lois was right. As usual.
It wasnât that the two of you had been flirting exactly. Not in the obvious way. It was just the way Clark always found your favorite pen when it went missing. The way your desk was next to his, even though technically yours had been assigned across the room. The way youâd always pass him a post-it when he forgot his press badge, and he always brought you coffee without asking how you took itâbecause he already knew. He way heâd make a stupid joke and youâd laugh, or how his day visibly brightened when you gave him attention..
And now? Now that it was official? That youâd actually gone on a date and kissed him and fallen asleep on his shoulder during a movie you picked but didnât finish? Well, nothing had really changed.
Except everything had.
âYou two are disgusting,â Lois said, sipping her coffee without looking up. Seeing you two graze hands at the printer and blush several times a day was ingrained in her mind already. Not that she really minded.
âWeâre not even touching,â you replied, flipping through your printouts.
âExactly,â she deadpanned. âYouâre radiating soft couple energy from opposite sides of the bullpen. Itâs oppressive.â
Jimmy leaned over from his desk, whispering loudly, âDid you kiss him?â
You didnât look up. âJimmy.â
âI bet you kissed him.â You didnât reply. âYou totally kissed him.â
From across the room, Clark looked up from his monitor and smiled at youâthat smile, the one that made your knees go funny even when you were sitting down. You tried very hard not to melt into your chair.
Lois sighed. âAnd thatâs my cue to go find a real story.â
Jimmy leaned over again. âWas it good?â You picked up a rolled newspaper and bopped him on the head without breaking eye contact. âWorth it,â Jimmy grinned.
âTell me,â Steve rolled over in his chair. âIs this the kind of story youâd post about in your column? About the date with the office nerd and how you out-nerd him on a day to day basis?â
You turned slowly toward Steve, eyebrow arched like you were deciding whether to laugh or end his entire career. But instead of firing back with something sharp, you just smiled. âNo,â you said simply, voice calm. âBecause itâs not gossip. Itâs mine.â
Steve blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. So was Jimmy, actually. Even Lois paused mid-step, glancing over her shoulder. Clark looked up from his desk, a soft crease forming between his brows. Like he wasnât sure if he should step in or let you handle it. (Spoiler: you always handled it.)
You turned back to your laptop, fingers tapping at the keys. âBesides,â you added without looking up, âif I were going to write about someone in this office, itâd be the guy who still hasnât figured out how to use the shared printer.â
Steve grumbled something under his breath and wheeled away.
âReal talk,â Cat interrupted. âWhat about that Superman article you were talking about posting?â
You perked up slightly, spinning your pen between your fingers as you leaned back in your chair. âItâs almost done. I just want to fine-tune some of the analysis. I added a new section on his flight patternsâbased on the velocity shifts I tracked last week.â
Jimmy, now safely two desks away, visibly winced. âPlease tell me you didnât break into another security feed.â
You smiled innocently. âI prefer the term borrowed temporarily.â
Cat raised an eyebrow. âYouâre seriously going to publish an article with that much math?â
âItâs not just math,â you said with a light shrug. âItâs data-backed storytelling. Iâm not trying to make people fall asleep. Iâm trying to show them the truth. That heâs not reckless. That thereâs precision in what he does. Thereâs science to it. Intention.â
Clarkâs pen slipped from his hand. You didnât notice, but Cat did. And so did Lois, who appeared back in the room just in time to catch Clark doing the worldâs worst job at pretending he wasnât completely floored by you.
Cat smirked and turned back to you. âYouâre something else.â
You glanced up, blinking. âGood something else or..?â
âDefinitely good,â she said. Then, nodding toward Clark, âAnd clearly not going unnoticed.â
Clark, red-faced and trying to recover, coughed lightly. âI think itâs a great idea for a piece,â he said quickly. âThe public could use more informed perspectives.â
âSee? Clark gets it,â you folded your arms over your chest.
âBecause heâs head over heelsââ Jimmy was interrupted by Lois smacking him with a newspaper, making him swat her away like a fly.
You bit back a laugh, then glanced over at Clark. He was already watching you, a little dazed and dreamy, like someone whoâd forgotten the rest of the world existed. The second your eyes met, he blinked and gave you a small wave, almost sheepish. And despite everything, despite the teasing and the headlines and the very real article on your desktop detailing Supermanâs aerodynamics, you blushed.
Jimmy groaned. âOh my god, youâre both twelve.â
But Lois just smiled quietly, sipping her coffee as she turned back toward her notes. Because for all the chaos and caffeine-fueled headlines, for all the alien invasions and metahuman drama, something in this newsroom had finally settled.
That night, you sat on Clarkâs couch, laptop on your lap as your back rested comfortably against his side. His arm closest to you clung around your collarbones; the most gentle of headlocks. A loving one. Sure, you and Clark had only been on one date, but it didnât feel like you needed more.Â
Here you sat, Clark by your side in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. You, without makeup, hair undone, wearing one of his old shirts and your old sleep shorts, nothing else felt better.
Sure, getting dolled up every day was a true joy, and you wouldnât have it any other way, but being so bare like this for Clark was something else.
It was a kind of quiet intimacy you hadnât expected to come so easily. The kind that didnât need fanfare or flowers or fancy dinners. Just shared space, shared warmth, and the soft brush of his thumb against your arm every few secondsâlike he needed to remind himself you were really there.
Clark rested his chin lightly against your head, eyes half-lidded behind his glasses as the evening news murmured low from the TV. He wasnât watching it. Neither were you. The screen of your laptop cast a soft glow over the both of you as your fingers idly tapped at the keyboard.
âYou working?â he asked, his voice quiet, more vibration in his chest than sound in the air.
âMhm,â you hummed. âPolishing the Superman piece. Just tweaking the structure a little.â You had paused, craning your neck to look back at Clark. âDo you think Perry will take this seriously?â
Being a gossip columnist was great until you wanted to post a story like this.
Clark tilted his head, looking down at you with that soft, thoughtful gaze he always seemed to wear when it came to you. His fingers gently brushed your arm in quiet reassurance.
âI think,â he said slowly, âPerry will read it twice. Once as your editor. And once as someone who knows you donât write anything unless it matters.â You blinked at him. âAnd if he doesnât,â Clark added, a small smile tugging at his lips, âIâll talk to him.â
You let out a soft laugh, half-exasperated, half-grateful. âYou donât have to go full.. Superman on my editor.â
If you wouldâve looked closer, you wouldâve seen how Clark nearly flinched at the words. You were only joking. You didnât know. Phew.
âI wouldnât.â He shrugged, trying to play off the surprised look he was sure he just flashed. âJust full Clark Kent. Turns out heâs surprisingly persuasive.â
You rested your head against his chest again, the sound of his heartbeat calm and steady beneath your cheek. âI just want people to know what I see. That heâsââ You paused, smile curling at the edges of your mouth. âThat heâs more than what they say. That all the things he doesâhow he calculates impact zones, how he measures air displacement to avoid hurting peopleâitâs all intentional. Itâs all done with care.â
Clarkâs hand found yours, fingers threading between yours. âThen write it,â he murmured. âExactly like that. Exactly how you see it.â
You turned your hand over, palm to palm, your fingers curling softly around his. âYou know, youâre the only story I never want to twist.â
He kissed your forehead gently. âAnd youâre the only reporter Iâve never tried to avoid.â
That was the night Clark decided he wanted to tell you the truth. About who he was, what he could do, where he came from. That he was Superman.
But how do you go about telling the woman youâre falling in love with that you have a double life? That youâre, to put it plainly, from another planet. That youâre the person sheâs been fawning over for ages now. Thatâs not something to just admit over dinner.
It wasnât the kind of thing you slipped in between bites of spaghetti or during commercial breaks on movie night. Not when you were sitting in his sweatshirt, warm and real and tucked into his side like youâd always been there. Not when youâd just told himâwith so much gentleness and trust in your voiceâthat you didnât want to twist his story.
Clark stared down at you that night as you drifted off, your fingers still lightly curled around his, laptop dimming to sleep on the coffee table. Your breath evened out. You sighed softly in your sleep. And he just watched. Heart full. Terrified.
Because the truth wasnât just about who he was. It was about who you were becoming to him.
Heâd had plenty of close calls. Plenty of maybe this is the moment conversations lined up, planned in the back of his head, rehearsed like a press briefing. But none of them had ever made it out. Because what if you looked at him differently? What if your voice changed when you said his name? What if you stopped smiling when you saw him flying overhead?
What if knowing he was Superman changed the way you saw Clark?
But that nightâwatching you there, curled up against him in a way that made his life feel smaller, sweeter, less lonelyâhe realized he wanted you to know him. All of him. The writer. The hero. The man who somehow, impossibly, was lucky enough to love you.
So no, it wouldnât happen over dinner.
But it would happen.
Because if there was one person in the world he could trust with the truth, it was the one person who already saw him more clearly than anyone ever had.
Clark hadnât meant to come straight to you. Not like this. Bloodied lip, bruised ribs, heat radiating off his skin like the fight was still clinging to him. He was supposed to be more careful. More invincible. He wasnât supposed to scare you. He especially wasnât supposed to tell you like this.
But the moment he stumbled onto your fire escapeâbarely hovering before collapsing onto the floor of your apartmentâyou didnât panic. You didnât scream. You didnât even look surprised.
You looked concerned.
âSuperman?â Your voice was soft, a whisper above the hum of the city below. You dropped to your knees beside him instantly, hands fluttering near his chest. âYouâre hurt.â Your eyes scanned all over him worriedly, almost as if you had your own x-ray vision.Â
He gave a weak smile. âHi, angel.â
âHow didâ oh, Clark.â You said his name so softly, the realization hitting you. You were already reaching for the first aid kit you kept under the sink.Â
âIâm okay,â he said. âItâs justânight. No yellow sun. Slows the healing down.â
You froze for a second, processing, then frowned. âSo you canât heal right now?â
He shook his head once.
You looked at himâreally looked. His eyes were glassy but focused, his chest rising a little too fast, jaw tight. He was clearly in pain. His eyes scanned your face like it was his last ever sight. And still, somehow, your biggest concern was him.
âOkay,â you said, like it was the easiest decision in the world. You rolled up your sleeves, grabbed gauze, and pressed a towel gently against the gash on his cheekbone. âThen itâs my job to fix you up.â
Clark blinked. âYouâre not.. surprised?â
âI mean, a little,â you admitted, biting your lip as you dabbed the blood away. âOf course Iâm surprised. Never could have guessed that Superman would come to me for help.â Your brows creased and furrowed as you focused on gently wiping away any crimson from his face. âBut mostly Iâm just mad someone hurt you.â
His heart couldâve burst right then and there.
âI also think I figured it out two weeks ago. You being Superman.â
Clark blinked, then blinked again. âWaitâwhat?â
You didnât look up right away. You were too focused on the scrape along his jaw, cleaning it with practiced, careful hands. âThe flight patterns. The voice. The way you disappear from the bullpen every time Superman shows up. Youâre not as subtle as you think, farm boy.â
âIââ he started, but you gently pressed a bandage to his cheek.
âAnd then there was every single time you stared at me like I hung the stars when I defended Superman or wrote about him...â
Clark groaned softly, dropping his head back against the wall. âI knew youâd eventually notice. Just.. not this soon.â
You smiled, finally meeting his eyes. âI was waiting for you to tell me. I figured it had to be something big if you hadnât said anything.â
âItâs not that I didnât want to,â he said quickly, eyes searching yours. âI was going to. I am going to. I justâdidnât know how. Or when. Or how youâd react, because you couldâve reacted really badly.â
âAnd now?â
âNow Iâm.. bleeding on your rug and youâre still here.â His voice dipped, warm and quiet. âI think that tells me everything I need to know.â
You leaned in, gently brushing his hair off his forehead. âIt does,â you murmured. âBut I want to hear it from you anyway.â
Clark smiled. Soft, real, a little tired. âIâm Superman.â
You kissed his forehead. âYouâre Clark Kent. Supermanâs just your second night job.â
âWhatâs my first?â Clark curiously asked.
You brushed that soft curl away from his forehead. âBeing my boyfriend.â
Clarkâs breath caught in his throat, just for a second. That quiet, golden second where time didnât quite move. Then, he smiled. Big this time. The kind of smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle and his whole face light up like sunrise. âBest job Iâve ever had,â he whispered.
You leaned in closer, your forehead resting against his. âEven better than saving the world?â
He grinned. âWay better. The world doesnât kiss me goodnight.â
You laughed, soft and warm, and kissed him againâthis time on the lips, slow and steady, like you had all the time in the universe.
And for once, neither of you was rushing off to chase a headline or stop a satellite from falling out of orbit. No breaking news, no alarms, no distractions. Just the hush of nighttime and the steady beat of his heart under your palm.
You pulled back just enough to whisper, âYou should really let me fix that cut now.â
Clark smiled, still dazed, still starry-eyed. âOnly if I get another kiss after.â
You rolled your eyes fondly and reached for the first aid kit. âYou drive a hard bargain, Kent.â
âYou got an interview with Superman?â Steveâs face looked genuinely bamboozled. âOf all people? You?!â
You didnât even flinch. Just kept sipping your iced coffee through a straw, glossy lips curving into the softest smile.
âYeah,â you said easily. âHe trusts me.â
Jimmy wheeled over like he was front row at a soap opera. âWait, when did this happen?! Youâve been sitting at your desk all morning.â
You shrugged. âScheduled it for last night. He came right after his fight. Heâs a busy guy.â
Lois raised an eyebrow over the top of her coffee mug. âAnd let me guessâyou met him somewhere discreet, middle of the night, barely any witnesses? Or maybe he flew you to some rooftop where no one could see or hear you for the maximum privacy?â
âSomething like that,â you said lightly, clicking through your draft on screen.
Steve scoffed. âYou? Interviewing Superman? No offense, but you write about celebrity scandals and hair products.â
You turned to face him, voice sweet as honey. âAnd yet, I still managed to land the most elusive interview since Clark interviewed him. Wild, huh?â Clark, from his desk across the bullpen, choked on his water. Jimmy looked over. Lois didnât even try to hide her smirk.
Cat Grant passed behind you, gave your shoulder a light pat, and muttered just loud enough for Steve to hear, âGet used to it. Sheâs been leaving all of us in the dust since day one. But my fashion breakdowns will always be superior.â
You smiled, gaze flicking to Clark. âGuess some people just have the right sources.â
And Clarkâbless himâwas trying not to grin like an idiot. He failed. Spectacularly.
