Robby has never been a fan of birthdays. This year, loneliness drives him to download Tinder on an impulse, only to come across the last person he expected to find there: his favorite resident.
warning/tags: minors DNI, p0rn with little plot, masturbating, sexting, pet names (sweetheart and good girl) robby loves talking you through it, unprotected piv, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, body hair, fingering, creampie, handjob, kinda softdom!robby, age gap (I imagined reader being in her 20s or 30s but could be in her 40s too, tried to keep it broad)
For those of you who read it the first or second time I uploaded it: during the days the fic was down, I expanded some scenes, added a bit more dialogue, and made it a little kinkier along the way. You might want to read it again for some extra content
He knew this was stupid, plainly a terrible idea. On any other day, the thought wouldn’t have even crossed his mind, but today wasn’t any ordinary day. Today was his birthday. Fifty-five years old, and he had never felt more lost in his own life. Nothing had turned out the way he’d once imagined it would. If someone had told him, back when he was a resident, that he would still be coming home to an empty apartment at this age, no wife curled up on the couch waiting for him with a tired but loving smile, no chorus of small feet thundering toward the door, shoving drawings into his hands and saying “Look what I made for you today, daddy!” he would have laughed in their face and called it a cruel joke.
Yet here he was. No relationship had ever survived the weight of the hours and the way his mind stayed trapped in the ED long after he left it. He couldn’t be present anymore, not the way a partner deserved. The job had hollowed him out in ways he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
It had been almost a year since he ended things with Noelle, not long after he returned from his sabbatical. He’d told himself it was the right thing to do. Maybe it really was better this way. At this point in his life, trying again felt pointless, almost selfish. He was saving whatever good women were still out there from the inevitable complications of loving Michael Robinavitch.
But today the emptiness hit differently. The apartment felt quieter than usual, and his thoughts were louder, circling like a vulture. He knew it was the birthday doing this to him. Birthdays had a way of dragging the sorrows out into the light, every missed milestone, every abandoned version of the life he thought he’d have. Jack had tried to pull him out of it, offering a beer after shift, but Robby had politely declined. He wasn’t in the mood for forced cheer, for anyone raising a glass to another year of the same.
He’d made it clear to the whole department that he didn’t want any birthday cake, no cards, no presents, nothing. Still, the well-meaning murmurs had followed him all day: “Happy birthday, Dr. Robby,” each one met with a progressively wearier smile until the words blurred together. By the end of the shift, he was only managing quiet nods of acknowledgment, the kind that said thank you and please stop at the same time.
So here he was, in an apartment that was too big for himself, lying on a couch that felt even bigger, downloading Tinder on his phone. He rubbed a hand over his face, he’d tried Tinder once, maybe two years ago. Downloaded it, swiped for a week, then deleted it when the superficial nonsense started bothering him too much.
He started with the basics. Photos. Robby opened his gallery and scrolled slowly through the meager collection. Most of the images were work-related, grainy screenshots of charts, or blurry shots of trees and roads he’d taken during his bike rides. After a long hesitation, he picked a silly selfie he’d sent Jack a few weeks earlier. He was holding up the book the two of them had been texting about, half-smiling at the camera like he felt ridiculous even taking it. It wasn’t terrible, he supposed. He looked… friendly. Approachable, maybe.
Next, he chose one from the department barbecue he’d actually forced himself to attend last summer. He was wearing the sleeves rolled up on a button-down shirt, and holding a beer in his hand. He didn’t hate it, it showed a version of himself that still showed up for people, even when he didn’t feel like it. The last one was from the hospital fundraiser gala two years ago. He looked elegant in that photo in a black suit, but he had to crop Jack out of the frame, his face was still half-visible over his shoulder. Three photos, not exactly a compelling portfolio, but they were honest, he wasn’t pretending to be anyone other than himself.
He moved on to preferences. Gender: Women. Age range… His thumb froze. At first, he set it to 50–60. Women at the same stage he was, maybe divorced, maybe widowed, or just tired of feeling alone. But then something flickered in his chest, part curiosity and part desperation, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dragged the lower end down. Twenty to sixty. The wider net felt reckless, almost embarrassing. But what if the love of his life existed somewhere in that range? What if he missed her by something as stupid as a single year on a slider?
As if the love of your life was sitting on Tinder on a Sunday night, he thought. Don’t be fucking stupid, Robby.
He stared at the screen for a long moment, and with a quiet sigh that sounded too much like surrender, he tapped confirm. Now it was time for the bio. Robby stared at the blank field for a long minute. What the hell was he supposed to say? He wasn’t looking for anything specific. Company? Distraction? Someone who wouldn’t mind a man who came home at crazy hours, sometimes covered in blood and whocarried more baggage than he could carry?
He typed slowly what felt the most honest: “ER doctor in Pittsburgh. Love long bike rides to clear my head and 70s rock. Not entirely sure what I’m looking for here, but if you can handle sarcasm and odd hours, we might get along.”
He read it back. It sounded stiff, after all, he wasn’t used to this. But it was him, and so he hit save before he could overthink it more. The app prompted him to start swiping. Robby leaned back against the couch as the profiles began loading, smiling faces, pictures of holiday destinations, and bios full of lists of requirements. He swiped left on most without much thought.
Left. Left. Left. Some of the women seemed nice, but nothing pulled him in. He kept going until the endless scroll of faces started blurring together. No one stuck, just the same hollow feeling that had driven him to download the damn thing in the first place.
But then your profile appeared. Robby’s entire body froze. The photo loaded first: you, one of his own residents. You were standing in scrubs outside the Pitt with the same smirk you got after a particularly chaotic shift. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered as the heat crawled up his neck. Awkward didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling right now.
At work you were talented and dedicated, but still green enough that he rode you hard during shifts. And here you were on Tinder, of all places. The thought that you, or anyone else from the department, might stumble across his profile made his stomach twist with embarrassment. He could already imagine the gossip: Dr. Robby on Tinder. How pathetic.
He should swipe left immediately, delete his profile, and pretend this never happened. Instead, curiosity won. Robby tapped on your profile, telling himself it was just… professional concern. Making sure you weren’t doing anything stupid. He cared about his residents. Yeah, that was it.
Your bio loaded beneath the main photo: “If you like girls who will force you to watch her Letterboxd top four and then talk your ear off for hours about the hidden meaning behind her favorite songs, then I’m your girl. Emergency med resident with zero free time. Not looking for anything serious, just fun, meeting people, seeing where it goes.”
Robby let out a chuckle despite himself, the sound was unexpected in the quiet of the moment. He had only ever seen you in the chaos of the ED, running on adrenaline and too little sleep. But this version of you felt… different. He found himself thinking about how little he actually knew you. How little he’d allowed himself to know.
He didn’t know where you were from, or what your family was like, whether you had siblings who called too often or parents you tried to make proud. He didn’t know what you did outside of the hospital besides the occasional beer in the park, or what made you laugh until your sides hurt. All those small and ordinary pieces of a life that existed outside the emergency department.
It felt strangely intimate, seeing you like this. Like stumbling across a part of you he wasn’t supposed to have access to. A version of you that wasn’t filtered through the hierarchy of resident and attending. Up until now, you had been “his resident”, contained within the professional boundaries he’d carefully maintained.
He started swiping through your photos. The second picture was you laughing in what looked like a group hike, with your hair windblown and your eyes bright. You looked undeniably pretty. Objectively, he’d always known you were attractive. The kind of natural attractiveness that turned heads in the hospital corridors even when you were exhausted and covered in sweat. But once again, he’d never thought about it. You were a resident, he’d gone down that path before, and it’d ended badly. That made you off-limits, end of story.
The third photo was of you in a cozy sweater, curled up with a book and a mug of coffee. It was cute, almost sweet. The kind of image that made the loneliness in his chest ache. He kept swiping until the last photo hit him like a defibrillator. You were on a beach somewhere sunny and sandy, wearing a bikini. Your skin was glowing under the sun, and you were smiling at the camera in a confident pose, the kind of effortless beauty that could stop any man cold. Holy fuck, your body barely contained by the fabric of the bikini, the photo capturing the gentle swell and the way the light played across your body.
Robby’s mouth went dry, the heat flooded his face and then lower down his body. He hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t let himself imagine you like this, outside the hospital, undeniably a woman and not just one of his residents. His pulse kicked up, the nervousness made his hands shake and his grip slippery. He fumbled the phone, trying to swipe left fast. Swipe left, damn it, he thought.
But he accidentally jerked his thumb the wrong way, to the right, and the screen lit up with that unmistakable animation.
It’s a Match!
On the other side of Pittsburgh, you had been lying in bed, still trying to unwind after another brutal twelve-hour shift. Sleep felt miles away, so you’d given in to the guilty habit of late-night Tinder scrolling. Sure, swiping at 1 a.m. probably looked desperate to anyone else, but who cared? It wasn’t like you had much of a life outside the hospital anyway.
You swiped left with efficiency. Guy whose entire bio was just a link to his podcast. Left. Gym mirror selfies and nothing else. Left. Self-proclaimed “entrepreneur in the crypto market” with a Lamborghini in the background that probably wasn’t even his. Left.
How was it this difficult to find someone even remotely decent? You weren’t expecting to meet the love of your life in this digital dumpster, but was it really too much to ask for a man with basic social skills and a profile that didn’t scream immediate red flags? Someone whose opening line wasn’t just “u dtf?”
Guy who still clearly lived with his mom. Another left. “No feminists” in the bio, followed by a rant about “high value woman.” Left.
Then your thumb froze mid-swipe. Michael Robinavitch. Your heart slammed against your ribs. There he was, Dr. Robby, looking straight into the camera in one of the photos, that familiar half-smile you’d seen a thousand times in the ED, only now it was on a dating app.
You sat up straighter in bed, suddenly wide awake. What the hell was Dr. Robby doing on Tinder? You’d scrolled through this app for weeks and never seen him before. He must have created the profile recently. The man you’d been quietly (and not-so-quietly) thirsting over since your very first day of residency was right here. One match away.
How could you not like Robby? He was everything you’d ever wanted in a man, strong, steady, impossibly smart, and so damn capable it made your legs weak every single time he gave you a calm and yet authoritative instruction in the middle of a trauma.
You’d lost count of how many times he’d gently reprimanded you for being distracted while charting. He always assumed you were just tired from the long hours. He had no idea that you kept getting lost in vivid daydreams about him: running your fingers through the silver-flecked hair and that coarse, greyish beard, feeling those big hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close.
You loved the way his eyes crinkled warmly behind his glasses when he smiled, the way his voice dropped into that gravelly register when he needed to command attention in the ED… it did things to you. Dangerous, addictive things. Sometimes getting in trouble with him felt more exciting than it had any right to.
His Tinder bio was unexpectedly adorable. He looked a little lost, like he wasn’t entirely sure he belonged on the app but was willing to put himself out there anyway. That bike is not the only thing I’d like to ride, you thought, as a little smile tugged at your lips.
His pictures made you melt and sigh at the same time. That warm, contagious smil, the glasses that struck the perfect balance between hot and endearingly sweet. The silver threading through his beard that made you press your thighs together at the mere thought of feeling it against your skin, between your legs, specifically.
You swiped slowly through the rest of his photos. Those wide shoulders, that tall and solid frame, that soft belly under the button-down shirt… you wanted him in a way you had never wanted anyone before.
It was almost pathetic the way your heart did a little skip every time he complimented your work on a tough case. The way your thighs squeezed together almost involuntarily whenever he stepped in close during a complicated procedure, guiding you step by step, his voice low and patient near your ear. “Yeah, grab the blade like that… make a two-inch incision, softly, very gently.” “Hold the tube with your left hand, tight, don’t move it.”
It made your mind wander to dangerous places. Was he like that in bed too? The kind of man who talked you through it, calm and devastatingly attentive? In your fantasies, he absolutely was. Late at night, alone in this very bed with nothing but your hand and your imagination, you could almost hear his voice murmuring against your skin: “Keep your legs open for me, nice and wide… just like that.” “Look at you… already making such a mess. I’m gonna start with one finger, okay? Think you can be good and take it for me?”
Should you swipe right? It felt like the only logical choice. If he swiped left, which seemed like the most likely outcome, he would never even know you’d swiped on him. But if he did swipe right… then maybe, just maybe, you could end up in Robby’s bed.
Your hopes stayed low. Never in a million years did you actually expect Robby to be attracted to you the way you were to him. You would’ve noticed something by now, maybe in lingering stares, subtle flirting, or any shift in the way he treated you. But he didn’t. He treated you exactly like the rest of the residents: a young doctor he needed to teach, who could sometimes be frustratingly distracted.
Still, you couldn’t contain the tiny, thrilled scream that escaped your lips when the screen lit up:
It’s a Match!
Robby had matched with you. He wanted you too.
“Shit!” Robby dropped the phone onto the couch like it had burned him. It bounced once and landed face-up, the match confirmation still glowing on the screen. He and you had just matched on Tinder. All thanks to that goddamn bikini photo and his clumsy, nervous fingers.
He stared at it, feeling his heart hammering harder than it had during the worst trauma cases. This was mortifying. You’d seen his profile, you’d swiped right, and now you were going to see that he’d swiped right as well. Part of him, the tired and lonely part that had downloaded the app and widened the age range, wondered what you’d think.
A dozen what-ifs tumbled through his mind. What if you saw his profile and laughed? That disbelieving laugh when something genuinely surprised you. What if you messaged him first? Maybe it had been a mistake on your end too. Maybe your phone had slipped, or you’d been swiping too fast after a long shift, half-asleep and a little buzzed. Or maybe… maybe you’d swiped right on purpose, just to tease him. He could already picture the text popping up on his phone: “Oh my god, Dr. Robby. What are you doing on Tinder? lol.”
Robby ran both hands through his hair, exhaling sharply. He picked the phone back up, looking straight at the Send message button. He shouldn’t. The responsible thing would be to delete the app, pretend this night never happened, and go back to being your attending, not your Tinder match.
Instead, he opened your profile again. Robby tried to move past it, he really did, but his eyes lingered on that last photo far longer than they should have. You in a bikini, your skin glowing under warm sunlight. He couldn’t believe that was what you looked like underneath the baggy scrubs you wore every day in the ED.
It felt wrong. Like he wasn’t allowed to see you like this, like he was intruding on something deeply private, crossing a line that should never even be approached between an attending and his resident. Guilt twisted in his stomach, but it wasn’t enough to make him look away.
His body reacted anyway, a sudden heat stirring unwanted, a throb of arousal he hadn’t felt this sharply in longer than he cared to admit. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, hating himself for it even as the reaction deepened. What the hell is wrong with you, Robby? he told himself, but the self-reproach did nothing to dull the pull. What could he do? You were a woman. A beautiful one, and for the first time, he was seeing you not just as his resident, but as someone undeniably, breathtakingly desirable.
Before he could delete his account and go to bed as he should, your message popped up.
You: hii :)
Robby’s breath hitched in his throat. For a split second, he swore his heart actually stopped. Then it slammed back into rhythm, pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, in his temples, in the tightness of his chest. The little smiley face stared back at him from the screen, innocent and cheerful, as if it hadn’t just flipped his entire night upside down.
You had matched with him. At eleven at night. On his lonely fucking birthday. What the hell was he supposed to say to you at 11 pm. after accidentally matching with her on Tinder? “Hey, funny seeing you” here felt pathetic. “This is wildly inappropriate” felt like a lie because the rush of heat still lingering in his veins said otherwise.
He set the phone down on the coffee table for a moment, dragging a hand over his face for the millionth time. Part of him wanted to delete the match immediately, pretend it never happened, and go to bed like the responsible, professional attending he was supposed to be. But another part, the part that had been sitting alone on his fifty-fifth birthday, couldn’t bring itself to swipe left on this one unexpected connection. So he picked the phone back up and stared at the blinking cursor in the message box.
Another message came through a minute later.
You: robby? it’s me from work... guess you saw my profile too haha
Robby let out a long breath, he couldn’t avoid it now that you’d initiated a conversation with him. It was better to be direct, explain the mistake to you, and shut this down before it got any more awkward.
Robby: hey
yeah, I saw it
listen, this is embarrassing as hell, i was messing around with the app, dropped my phone and it must have swiped right by accident
sorry about that, didn’t mean to make things weird
He hit send and immediately regretted how cold it sounded, but it was the truth. The phone stayed quiet for a moment that stretched too long. He had his eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for your reply so he could shut down this awkward conversation and delete this stupid app before he accidentally matched with anyone else from work.
You: oh. so it was a mistake? damn, i thought you had swiped right on purpose. bummer.
Robby’s eyes widened. You were being direct, not beating around the bush or deflecting by saying it had been a mistake on your end as well. He could practically hear your voice saying it with a teasing edge.
Robby: Sorry about the confusion
i know it might be awkward finding me on here. probably the last person you expected, i don’t usually do this.
You: honestly it was surprising. didn’t peg you as the tinder type at all.
but hey, we all have our moments i guess
Robby: i’m not the type
this is my second time ever downloading it and i already regret it, should probably delete the whole thing before i make an even bigger fool of myself.
You: yeah i get it. i thought the match was mutual so i figured i’d say hi. sorry for texting if it was just an accident. didn’t mean to make it weirder
Robby read your message twice. Thought the match was mutual. The words echoed in his brain. You had swiped right on purpose, not as a joke, not out of morbid curiosity about your boss’s sad dating life. You had chosen him willingly. The realization of what that meant sent a confusing rush through him. You liked him, that had to be it. The thought of you… having a crush on him made a warm feeling run through his body, one he immediately tried to shove down.
Robby: What do you mean you thought it was mutual?
You: idk... i saw the notification and figured you wanted to match with me since it happened. that’s why i said hi right away. didn’t want to leave it hanging if we were both curious
He stared at the screen, his heart beating a little harder. You were so honest and blunt about your feelings, he found himself almost intimidated by it. Some rational part of his brain was trying to tell him this had to be a big joke, there was no way in hell you could like him. You were… you. What would you see in a man like him?
Robby: you wanted us to match? seriously?
You: lol yeah i did swipe right, didn’t i? your profile was actually really nice. the book pic is cute and the 70s rock mention made me smile. plus... i don’t know, you’re interesting. figured why not. no pressure though
Robby: i thought maybe you did it out of curiosity
or just to see if I’d swiped on you didn’t expect you to actually want that
You: well i did. but if it was an accident on your end then no big deal. we can pretend this never happened and go back to normal tomorrow. i won’t mention it at work or anything. promise
Robby let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes for a long moment as he exhaled heavily. He knew exactly what the responsible Chief of Emergency Medicine should do right now: unmatch immediately, delete his profile, and pretend the entire night had been nothing more than a lonely fever dream.
But tonight… tonight he didn’t want to be responsible. He didn’t want to be Dr. Robinavitch, the attending who had sacrificed nearly every personal connection, every version of a fuller life, on the altar of the ED. For once, he wanted to be Michael. Just Michael. The man who had matched with you on Tinder. The man who was currently staring at his phone with his heart hammering like he was twenty years younger.
Before he could piece together a polite but firm way to end the conversation and retreat back into the safety of professional distance, another message appeared.
You: i think your profile’s part of the reason i swiped right. the book pic’s really nice
He smiled faintly at that, a rare genuine twitch at the corner of his mouth. Robby leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees.
Robby: your profile’s pretty good too, better than most of the ones i’ve seen tonight
You: aww thanks. your’s so much better than the usual bullshit on here which is not that hard to be
but still finding you here is a nice change :)
Robby: you on this app a lot? seems like you’ve got the profile down
You: not really. i’ve been on a couple dates from here but it’s honestly exhausting. hard to find someone decent in this city. most guys are either looking for hookups with zero conversation or they’re boring as hell. you know how it is
Robby: fair enough.
your age range must be set pretty high if it pulled me up
fifty five isn’t exactly the usual crowd for you or is it?
You: haha yeah well
i like older men
Those four stupid words hit him square in the chest like a defibrillator. “I like older men.” Robby reread them slowly, feeling a dangerous warmth bloom low in his belly and spread outward through his chest. He was an older man, and apparently, that fit exactly into your preferences. Was that flirtation? Were you subtly implying that he was the kind of older man you liked? Or was it just a casual, throwaway comment, something you’d say to any guy on the app who happened to have a few gray hairs?
No. He was spiraling too deep, overthinking it the way he always did. Your words didn’t carry some hidden, special meaning meant just for him. They couldn’t. And yet… No matter how hard he tried to talk himself down, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of validation that lit up inside him. He felt desired, really desired. Not just by anyone, but by you: someone younger, and so strikingly pretty it almost hurt to look at your photos for too long. Someone who, in his mind, was clearly way out of his league.
Robby: It’s okay to have preferences
everyone does.
You: yeah exactly. i just find older guys more attractive than the ones my age. they’re usually more mature, know what they want, have actual life experience. it’s... hotter, i guess. plus the conversations are better
He swallowed hard, feeling his throat suddenly dry. He could practically see your face as you typed those words, maybe biting your lower lip in that teasing way you sometimes did right after nailing a difficult procedure.
Then the bikini photo from earlier flashed unbidden through his mind, and the heat in his body flared hotter. He pictured you exactly as you’d looked in that shot: sun-warmed skin, curves barely contained by the fabric. The thoughts he had no right to entertain came rushing in anyway, pulling him deeper. Thoughts of having you all to himself, of finally being able to run his hands slowly over every inch of that bare skin, tracing the line of your waist, sliding up your ribs, cupping the soft weight of your breasts. Of putting his mouth on you and every sensitive spot until you were trembling beneath him.
Robby: makes sense
i usually go for women closer to my stage of life
we have more in common that way
You: do age gaps bother you?
Robby: in what way?
You: like as a concept. are they a problem for you?
Robby: i’m okay with consenting adults doing what they want
as long as everyone’s on the same page it’s not my business.
You: have you ever been in an age gap relationship or anything like that?
Robby: i once dated a woman a bit younger than me
but usually around my age
He paused before sending the next part, he shouldn’t keep engaging in this deeply unprofessional conversation, but curiosity was getting the better of him. And you were simply so easy to talk to that he couldn’t stop himself from letting his walls down a little.
He typed before he could second-guess himself.
Robby: how much older are we talking anyway?
the men you usually like i mean.
Your reply came fast, like you’d been waiting with the phone in hand.
You: usually over fifty up until their sixties or so. around that range. but it’s just a preference, nothing crazy. i feel like older men usually treat you better. they’re more gentlemanly, know how to actually listen, and they tend to understand what a woman wants... in every way, if you know what i mean ;)
Robby read the message twice. Three times. Four. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck me. You weren’t just being polite or making casual conversation. That winky face, the implication hanging there about “every way”. You were deliberately flirting with him, there was no other way to see it. He shifted on the couch, suddenly very aware of his own body and the fact that it had been a long damn time since anyone had spoken to him like that.
He took a slow breath and replied, trying to keep some semblance of control.
Robby: do you date men closer to your own age too?
or is it mostly the older crowd?
You: i have tried guys closer to my age. some of them are sweet but a lot are still figuring their shit out. you should try dating a woman younger than you sometime though. maybe it’s exactly what you need.
Robby didn’t know what to say. The words hung there, full of possibilities around them. He was still wrestling with a response when another message from you popped up.
You: anyway sorry again for the confusion earlier. i’ll leave you alone so you can keep scrolling through profiles. i’ll go back to robbing the graves haha (joke, get it? because i like older guys... sorry that was sooo bad)
Robby chuckled despite the whirlwind in his head. The joke was cheesy, so perfectly you that it cut through some of the tension. But it also gave him an out, you were offering to back off and let this weird moment fade into nothing before tomorrow’s shift made everything awkward as hell. Part of him wanted to take the exit ramp, wish you a good night, unmatch, delete the app, and pretend none of this happened. But another part, the one that had been sitting alone on his birthday didn’t want the conversation to end.
He tapped over to your photos again, almost against his will. There it was the last one. You on the beach in that bikini, with the perfect swell of your tits catching the sunlight. Holy fuck. He wanted you, the realization hit him all of a sudden, making him switch back to the chat and move his thumbs almost on autopilot.
Robby: Nothing to apologize for
honestly you’ve kept me better company tonight than I expected
You: see? younger women can be good company too :) you shouldn’t close the door so fast. you could meet someone nice if you give it a chance
Robby: you shouldn’t close the door on guys your own age either
there are decent ones out there, you’ll find someone who can keep up with you
You: out of all the guys i’ve matched with here... you’re easily the best one. no contest
Robby: Really? that can’t be right
you’re selling yourself short.
You: no i mean it. you’re exactly the kind of man i’d usually go for. tall, older, smart... and hot
The word hot hit him harder than it had any right to. His face flushed deeper, his clothes felt constricting, his pants uncomfortably tight. Robby’s cock was already half-hard, thickening and pulsing insistently against the zipper of his jeans with every new message.
All because you’d called him hot. Just a little cheeky, playful comment, and it was enough to unravel him. The touch starvation wasn’t helping. It had been so damn long since anyone had looked at him with real interest, longer still since he’d felt this fluttering feeling low in his stomach. This rush of ego, this sharp need to be close to someone, to be wanted, to touch and be touched.
Robby: thanks i guess
you’ll meet someone worth your time, you’re a good girl
The message was sent before he could fully reconsider the wording. The second it went through, Robby winced. It sounded weirdly sexually charged, maybe it was because he was feeling sexually charged, painfully so. A Freudian slip at its finest.
You: good girl? 😏
Robby: shit i didn’t mean it to sound weird
just a figure of speech i suppose.
You: should i call you daddy then? ;)
Robby nearly dropped the phone again. The winky face, the bold suggestion, the way it played so perfectly into the tension that had been building sent a bolt of pure want through him. He could imagine your voice saying it, teasingly so, with that mischievous glint in your eyes. His mind supplied far too many vivid images: you in nothing but your skin looking up at him, you saying it in person with a flirty smile. He was fully hard. Actually hard, just from a fucking text conversation.
The professional alarm bells were clanging loudly in the back of his head. This was his resident, the age gap, the power dynamic, the fact that you’d have to face each other at the Pitt in a few short hours... it was all wrong. But god, it felt good. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.
He glanced down at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants, his cock straining against the fabric like a flagpole. He couldn’t believe it. One flirty text from his resident and he was rock hard. Don’t get hard for your fucking resident, he thought. She’s one of your own. Off-limits. This is insane. He adjusted himself uncomfortably, trying to will it down through stubbornness, but the ache only sharpened.
You: too much? sorry i was just messing around lol
Robby exhaled and typed back, trying to sound more composed than he felt.
Robby: Don’t worry about it
i know it was a joke, no harm done
You: it was... unless you don’t want it to be a joke
He let out a surprised laugh, his cock twitched again at the follow-up, you were relentless, and something told him you were noewhere near done.
Robby: you’re funny, i’ll give you that.
You: that’s what i’ve been told. glad you’re having fun with me tonight
Robby: Well, I guess I should let you get some sleep
early shift tomorrow and all
You: i don’t mind staying up. i swiped right on you, remember? yk for a minute i really thought you were gonna flirt with me or maybe even ask me to come over to your place or something
The words hung there. You had been excited, you had hoped he would flirt. The image flashed through his mind, you showing up at his door in the middle of the night, stepping inside and… He shifted again, pressing his hand down against his insistent erection through his sweatpants, trying to get some relief even as guilt gnawed at him. This was crossing so many lines he’d promised himself he wouldn’t cross after Heather. But the loneliness that had driven him to download the app in the first place was quieter now, replaced by an electric tension.
Robby: that would be very inappropriate
i’m your boss and there are lines we can’t cross
You: but you’re not dr. robby my attending in here. you’re michael robinavitch, 55, the guy who loves 70s rock and long bike rides. and i’m not your resident in this chat. i’m just a girl who likes movies and older men... and who is really, really into you right now
You were separating the roles so cleanly, drawing a line between the hospital and this private space. It was tempting, dangerously tempting.
Robby: you know it doesn’t work like that
we can’t just turn it off when the shift starts tomorrow
You: nah i’m pretty sure i can
Robby: No.
You: If we really can’t meet then we can do it over text, you know.
He stared at the screen trying to guess if you really meant what you were saying.
Robby: what do you mean?
You: sexting, duh
He let out a short breath, Jesus fuck you were actually gonna kill him tonight.
Robby: that’s basically the same thing.
You: no it’s not. technically we’re not doing anything if it’s just messages. no one has to know.
Robby rubbed a hand over his jaw, his mind was screaming at him to shut this down, but his fingers were already moving. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering to do this.
This was a terrible idea. What difference did it really make whether it was real sex, his hands on you, feeling your heat around him, or just describing it in detail over text messages? A line was still a line. One he had promised himself he wouldn’t cross again. He didn’t want this to end with you giving up your residency, transferring to another hospital, another city, once things inevitably fell apart.
But fuck, his cock was achingly hard, straining against the front of his pants like a caged animal that desperately needed to be freed. The thought of you right now, maybe lying in your bed in, pressing your thighs together, that sweet slick already soaking through your panties because of him… it made it impossible to think straight. He couldn’t leave you like that, so wet, so needy, aching for him.
Robby: what do you want me to say?
You: i don’t know… just say something hot. you’re goot at being hot
He hesitated, he wasn’t sure of what to say. He was scared of seeming naive and old school to you, but he wasn’t used to this whole… sexting thing. The most spicy exchange over texts had been insinuating pictures before asking someone to come over. Okay think Robby, if you can save someone’s life under extreme preassure then you can sext with a woman, just say something typical, he thought
Robby: who’s been a naughty girl?
The second he hit send he regretted it. He winced, already typing another message to backtrack when your reply came through.
You: lmao that was the best you’ve got?
Robby groaned out loud, dropping his head back against the couch.
Robby: forget it. i’m going to bed
You: nooo wait. let’s try again :(
He should’ve put the phone down. He really should’ve. Instead he waited to see if you had anything else to say.
You: you’re so good at giving orders and guiding me at work. maybe you could do that now too? tell me what to do
You were right, in theory. He was good at instructing, guiding, teaching. It came naturally to him to step into that mentoring role, he had always been the one others looked to for direction.
Robby: i feel stupid doing this.
You: pleeeease. i’ve always thought you were the kind of guy who talks people through it in bed. it’s the same here, just write it instead of saying it. tell me how you want me to touch myself
Your words hit him hard. He reread the message twice. He had never consciously thought about it before, but yes… that did sound exactly like him. Fragments of memory surfaced unbidden: the commanding tone he’d used with past partners, the way he’d instructed them. “Open your legs for me.” “Turn around.” “Look at me.” He remembered the way their breathing would change, the way they’d tremble under the weight of his voice and his hands.
Robby: you really want me to talk you through it, sweetheart?
You: yessss that was so much better. keep going
If anyone had asked you how it happened, you honestly wouldn’t have been able to explain it. You weren’t even sure yourself. One moment you were typing a slightly embarrassed apology to Robby for matching with him and the next, the conversation had taken a turn and you were the one demanding he sext you so you could get off. It was bold, stupidly reckless, and yet it felt inevitable.
Robby: good girl that’s exactly what I wanted to hear, i want you to get those pretty legs spread nice and wide for me, can you do that?
You whimpered softly and obeyed him instantly, letting your knees fall farther apart on the mattress. The cool air hit your exposed pussy making you shiver.
You: yes. they’re open
Robby: Perfect
i’d be on my knees between them right now if I could
run your fingers up the inside of your thighs for me slowly, feel how soft they are
As you trailed your free hand up one thigh, you imagined his callused palms and the scratch of his greying beard following the same path.
You: doing it… feels so good thinking about your hands instead.
Robby: that’s my girl
now slide two fingers through your pussy and ell me how wet you are for me
You did exactly as he says, gasping as two fingers glided easily through your slick heat. You were soaked, embarrassingly so, the wet sounds filling the quiet bedroom as you stroked yourself.
You: So wet… i’m dripping. all because of you.
Robby: fuck i knew you would be
i want you to circle your clit for me now
Do it slowly and imagine it’s my tongue instead, licking you just the way you need
i’d take my time, taste every inch of you
Your mons got louder, tipping your head back against the pillows as your fingers obeyed, traxing circles around your clit that sent sparks up your spine. In your mind, it was Robby’s mouth devouring you while his strong hands pinned your thighs down.
Robby: how does that feel, sweetheart? tell me
You: so good, i’m so sensitive. keep talking please
Robby: Good
now slide one finger inside that tight pussy, nice and deep
curl it up just like I would, searching for that spot that makes your legs shake
i’d be watching your face the whole time, telling you how beautiful you look spread open for me, how good you are for listening
When you pushed a finger inside yourself, you curled it upward as instructed to hit that sensitive spot while your other hand kept working your clit in circles.
Robby: add another finger and stretch yourself open
i’d be so much thicker than your fingers, but we’ll start like this
imagine me pumping them in and out while i rub your clit
Adding a second finger, you continued fucking yourself to the rhythm of his words on the screen. It was not enough, it was nowhere near enough to calm the hunger and desperation that was threatening to consume your whole being. You knew nothing would be enough, only feeling him inside of you.
You: wish it was you inside me. can’t get off like this. i need you robby please
Robby: you were the one who told me to do this
You: i know i did. but it’s not enough
send me your address
He was tempted, so tempted that for one second his fingers almost started typing on an impulse. But the reality crashed back in immediately. The risks, the morning after, the way he’d have to look at you during rounds, knowing what you’d done. He was rock hard and aching for you, but the responsible part of him still refused to crumble completely.
Robby: what for?
you’re not seriously thinking about coming over right now, are you?
You: robby i’m literally only like 2 miles away from you. are you dtf? not as dr. robinavitch and his resident, but as two adults who casually matched on tinder tonight. there’s no title or hospital here. it’s just us.
Two miles. You were so close. He stared at your message, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs. His cock gave another insistent throb, the head already leaking a little against his underwear. The thought of you actually coming over, right now, in the middle of the night, made his mouth go dry.
Robby: Send me your address and I’ll order you a ride.
You sent your address a moment later. It really was only two miles away. He confirmed the ride, watching the estimated arrival time tick down. Fifteen minutes… only fifteen minutes until you’d be at his door.
You: this is exactly what i meant earlier about older guys. so much more gentlemanly. taking care of the details instead of just telling me to get there
You had no time to get ready, and honestly, you didn’t care. Makeup? Hair? None of that mattered when you were this desperate, this aching for him. You climbed out of bed still wearing the thin tank top and soft sleep shorts you’d worn to bed, and threw an oversized jacket over everything, one that swallowed most of your body and made you look far more put-together than you actually felt.
Your hands were shaking as you grabbed your keys and phone. The rideshare arrived sooner than you expected. The drive across the city felt both endless and far too short, but eventually the car pulled up outside his building.
You stood on the sidewalk for a second, staring up at the apartment complex, suddenly hit with the full weight of what you were doing, showing up at your attending’s door in the middle of the night, soaked and trembling with need, because a stupid Tinder match had spiraled completely out of control.
But you didn’t hesitate for long, you took a deep breath, pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, walked toward his door and knocked on it.
Robby opened it right away. He didn’t say a word, the second you were in reach, you had one of his strong hands cupping the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. It was electric to say the least. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that stole your breath. His beard was scraping deliciously against your skin as he moved his lips with experienced urgency. You melt into it instantly, fisting your hands in his shirt, tasting the pure, overwhelming taste of him. Finally. Here he was, kissing you like he’d been starving for it just as much as you had.
He kicked the door shut behind him without breaking the kiss, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his taller frame. You felt the warmth of his hands roaming everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your sides, squeezing the curve of your ass through the fabric of your shorts. In your mouth, he groaned, making a vibrating sound that went through you as he explored every inch he could reach, like he was memorizing the feel of you.
Your breasts were the next to get his attention, he was cupping them with his big hands through your tank top, brushing his thumb over your already hard nipple, while he tangles his other hand in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
You pulled back just enough to gasp against his lips, “It took you long enough.”
Robby chuckled, the sound coming out breathless. “Took you long enough. You have any idea what it’s like waiting twenty minutes for you with a hard-on?” He pressed you closer, letting you feel the thick and insistent bulge against your stomach.
As if they had a mind of their own, his hands couldn’t stop moving, squeezing, caressing, claiming, running down your back, over your thighs, everywhere he’d fantasized about touching. Before you could respond, he bent slightly and lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively.
The strength in his arms, the way his broad chest felt against you, sent a fresh rush of heat between your legs. He carried you through the house with purposeful strides. The door to your room swung open and he layed you gently on the bed, climbing on top of you immediately until his full weight pressing you deliciously into the mattress.
The kissing resumed instantly, slower now but no less intense. Robby’s mouth was moving from your lips to your neck, sucking lightly and scratching you with his beard in the most perfect way. Now his hands got bolder, continuing their exploration but this time sliding under your tank top, pressing his palms against your bare skin. He lifted the fabric higher, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room.
“Fuck,” Robby groaned, and maybe it was your mind playing tricks on you, but you could see his soft brown eyes turning darker as he stared down at you. “Look at you. These tits… so perfect. So fucking pretty.” His voice was rough with want, the same commanding tone. He cupped them reverently, as if they were something precious, circling your nipples until they pebbled tighter under his touch. “They’re made for my hands. For my mouth.”
He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking it gently at first, then harder, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak. The wet touch of his tongue made you arch into him with a moan, threading your fingers through his hair as he kept lavishing attention on your breasts.
From one side to the other, Robby switched sides, licking and sucking the other while his hand massaged the first, rolling the nipple between his fingers. The dual sensation, the tingly heat of his mouth and the firm squeeze of his callused hand, had you writhing beneath him, making you so wet you were soaking through your shorts.
The humming of his mouth against your skin sends sparks straight to your core. “So responsive,” he murmured, switching back to the first breast and sucking it harder than before. “These tits are going to ruin me. I could spend hours right here.” Sliding his free hand down your side, Robby gripped your hip possessively, continuing with the worshipping of your chest, licking broad stripes, sucking marks into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading until he had you panting and grinding up against the hard line of his cock through his pants.
The age difference between you only heightened everything, his experience was showing in every skilled touch, in every perfect flick of his tongue. He was being patient but hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long. You could feel how hard he was, he was making you feel it, pressing insistently against your thigh. The knowledge that you did this to him made you even wetter.
Robby lifts his head briefly to lock his eyes on yours. His lips were swollen and his beard slightly damp with his saliva. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, but his hands never stopped, squeezing and caressing, teasing your sensitive nipples with his thumbs as he waited for your answer.
You shook your head, pulling him back down. You’d rather die than stop right now. “Don’t stop. Please.”
His mouth trailed a hot path down your sternum, over your stomach, scraping you teasinglywith his beard against your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His hands followed strong, sliding down your sides and gripping your hips as he settled between your spread thighs. The weight of him, the sheer size and presence of this man, made your core clench with anticipation.
“These shorts have been teasing me since you walked in,” he murmured with the same steady tone he used in the pitt, but now turned intimate and commanding. Robby hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly peeled them down your legs, taking his time as he revealed more of you. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart. Good girl.”
You obeyed instantly, lifting your hips so he could slide the fabric off completely, leaving you in just your thin panties and the tank top. Robby smoothed his hands up your thighs, spreading them wider with gentle but firm pressure. “Keep your legs open like that,” he instructed you. “Nice and wide for me. Don’t close them unless I tell you to.”
You were already moaning softly, and he wasn’t even touching your core yet. Robby dropped his eyes to the damp spot on your panties, making the fabric cling to your pussy lips, and he let out a groan of desire and hunger. He cupped you over the fabric with one hand, pressing his palm firmly against your heated pussy while his thumb found your clit through the material and began rubbing slow circles.
“Oh god,” you moaned, twitching up your hips into his touch, seeking more of the contact. The friction was simply perfect, it was teasing, and it kept building higher and higher. Robby’s callused thumb was applying just the right pressure on your swollen nub.
He watched your face intently through his hooded and lustful eyes as he worked you higher. “Feel good?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady even as his own breathing grew heavier. “You’re so wet already. Soaking through these panties for me. That’s it… rock against my hand, sweetheart. Show me how much you need this.”
Your moans only grew louder and more unrestrained, as he kept rubbing your clit with precision. The fabric added a delicious layer of friction, and every circle sent sparks shooting up your body. He got you gripping the sheets, your thighs already trembling as you fought the urge to close them around his hand.
Robby leaned down to kiss the inside of one thigh, scratching your skin deliciously. “You want my mouth? Want me to taste this pretty pussy? You gonna wrap these gorgeous legs around my neck while I do it?”
“Yes,” you gasped, nodding frantically. “Please, Robby. I need it.”
He hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down slowly, revealing your glistening, bare pussy to his hungry gaze. “Fuck… look at you. So wet and perfect.” He kissed along your inner thighs, taking his time, brushing his lips and beard against the sensitive skin as he worked his way closer. “Wrap them around me, sweetheart. Lock your ankles behind my head if you need to. I want to feel you holding me right where I belong.”
You did exactly as he said, wrapping your legs around his broad shoulders and pressing your heels into his upper back. The position left you completely open to him, vulnerable and exposed. Robby groaned, the sound vibrating against your core as he finally leaned in.
The first lick of his tongue was broad and slow, dragging from your entrance up to your puffy clit. The sensation was overwhelming, and it made you cry out loudly, threading your fingers into his greying hair as he began to devour you with the same intensity he brought to every procedure at work. He licked and sucked with precision, alternating between long and flat strokes to tight and quick circles around your clit.
His beard was scratching your inner thighs and outer lips in the most delicious way, adding a kind of texture that made your toes curl. “Robby… Oh fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned, rolling your hips against his mouth.
He hummed in response, pulling back with his lips glistening with your arousal just so he could speak to you. “Tell me how it feels, sweetheart. I want to hear it.”
“So good… your tongue—oh god, your mouth, Robby. It’s driving me crazy. Don’t stop, please.”
“You’re being so good for me,” he praised, diving back in to suck your clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly while applying suction with his lips.
Before you could register it, he teased your entrance with two thick fingers, slowly sliding them inside you, letting your own greedy hole swallow them. Once he curled them upward to find that perfect spot, the sensation had you moaning loudly and arching off the bed.
Robby pumped his fingers steadily, matching the rhythm of his tongue with his digits. A few moments later, he stopped again briefly, looking up at you with lust-filled eyes and shiny lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. Spread open for me, taking my fingers so well. This pussy is perfect, made for me. Keep moaning for me. Let me hear how much you love my mouth on you.”
You obeyed, your moans spilling freely as he returned to his task with renewed hunger. The pleasure built fast and faster, making your thighs tremble around his head and your feet dig into his back as you held him exactly where you needed him. Robby gripped your hip with his free hand, holding you steadily while he worked you closer and closer to the edge with expert skill. Every command, every praise, every flick of his tongue pushed you higher.
Robby didn’t relent, he kept his mouth latched onto your clit, sucking with rhythmic pressure, devouring you like a man starved. “Robby—oh fuck, yes!” The pleasure was overwhelming, every single nerve ending in your body was alight as he worked you higher.
“Keep those legs open for me, sweetheart,” he growled against your clit. “Don’t you dare close them. I want to feel you squeezing around my fingers while I eat this pretty pussy.” He added a third finger slowly, stretching you wider, the burn blending perfectly with the pleasure. “That’s it… take three for me. Feel how full you are? You’re doing so well. Such a good girl taking everything I give you.”
The wet sounds of his fingers plunging into your dripping pussy and his mouth sucking hungrily on your clit filled the air. You were soaking his beard, his chin, his wrist, but he didn’t care. Robby slid a hand under you, grabbing a firm handful of your ass and lifting your hips slightly off the bed. The new angle let him bury his face even deeper, working your clit with more precision while he fingerfucked you harder. “Just like that,” he praised you between licks. “Grind on my tongue, baby. Use my mouth. Show me how bad you need to come.”
You obeyed helplessly once again, rolling your hips and bucking them against him as the coil in your belly tightened unbearably. The pleasure built in powerful waves until your thighs started to shake violently around his head. Robby kept talking you through it, pushing you closer to the edge.
“You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel this tight pussy clenching around my fingers. Come on, let go. Cum all over my tongue. I want to taste it. I want to feel you fall apart for me.”
The orgasm crashed over you with blinding intensity, making your back bow off the bed, a loud and broken cry tearing from your throat as your pussy spasmed hard around his digits. Your thighs were squeezing his head tightly, your heels digging into his back as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Robby didn’t stop though, he kept sucking your clit through the peak, curling and thrusting his fingers to draw out every last shudder.
You came harder than you ever had. So hard that your vision went white for a moment as the pleasure bordered on overwhelming. Your moans turned into whimpers as the orgasm slowly ebbed, leaving you limp and gasping on the bed.
Robby finally eased back, gently lowering your hips and kissing softly along your inner thighs. He looked up at you with dark and satisfied eyes. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “So beautiful when you cum for me.”
You lay there panting, your thighs were still twitching, completely wrecked and already aching for more of him. Robby climbed back up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue. He was so close that his hard cock was pressing insistently against your thigh through his pants.
“That was… amazing,” you whisper with your voice hoarse from moaning. “So much better than I ever imagined.”
Robby chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Yeah? Better than your hand?” His eyes were sparkling with lust.
You laughed breathlessly, nodding. “So much better. Your mouth… God, Robby. I’ve never felt anything like that.”
He hummed in satisfaction, grinding his still-clothed erection slowly against your bare, sensitive pussy. The thick ridge of his cock was being pressed perfectly against your clit, giving him some much needed relief while teasing you both. “I loved doing that for you,” he murmured. “You were so good for me, sweetheart. So responsive, so wet. The way you moaned my name and squeezed my head with those pretty thighs… fuck, you have no idea what you do to me.”
Robby rolled his hips deliberately, the friction making you whimper and arch up into him. You could feel how achingly hard he was and how much he’d been holding back. You slid up your hands down his chest, feeling the soft flesh beneath his shirt.
“I want you,” you breathed, looking up at him with need. “Please, Robby.”
He stilled for a moment, as if to pulling himself together. “Tell me what you want. Be specific.”
You bit your lip, feeling the warmth invade your cheeks. “Your cock. I want you to fuck me. I need you inside me.”
Robby let out a groan, sitting back on his knees between your spread thighs. He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, drawing out the anticipation. You sit up slightly, eager to help, moving your fingers to tug his pants down along with his underwear.
“I’ve been dying to see you,” you confessed as you pulled his pants down his hips. He caught your wrists before you could push his boxers down.
Robby looked almost nervous, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Wait… I, uh—” He cleared his throat, flicking his eyes away for a second. “I haven’t trimmed down there in a while. This whole night was… unexpected. I would’ve cleaned up if I’d known we were gonna end up here.”
He said it like it was something to be embarrassed about. Like it might actually make you want him less. It made you soft, you cupped his jaw, turning his face back to yours.
“Robby. Do you honestly think I give a damn about that? It’s just hair.”
He let out a self-conscious breath, still looking a little defensive. “I know. I know it’s just hair. It’s just… it’s probably a fucking jungle down there right now. You don’t have to— I mean, you don’t have to do anything if it’s too much.”
The way he was trying to give you an out was almost painfully endearing. You shook your head. “Just let me see you,” you whispered.
You slid his boxers down his thighs and freed his cock, it sprang out, thick and hard, the head flushed in a dark red with arousal. It was beautiful, so long, girthy, with a slight upward curve, prominent veins running along the shaft. Exactly like he’d warned, there was a thick, dark mat of coarse hair at the base, dense and untrimmed. He looked completely natural, it was so him, deeply masculine and unpolished.
A fresh rush of wetness slipped down your inner thighs. Your fingers twitched with the need to touch him there.
You looked up at him through your lashes “I love it,” you slowly carded your fingers through the thick hair at the base of his member. “You look so fucking hot like this. I like every single inch of you.”
Robby’s whole body shivered under your touch. “God…” he rasped as he stared down at you. “You’re gonna kill me tonight.”
Almost with instinct, you wrapped your hand around it, stroking the shaft slowly from base to tip, feeling the heat and weight of his member.
Robby hissed in pleasure, twitching his hips forward into your grip as he watched your hand move up and down his cock. “Fuck, your hand feels good,” he groaned, letting you stroke him for a while, savoring the sight of your smaller hand working his thick length, making a bead of precum leak from the tip.
After a few moments, he gently stopped you, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Lay back down for me, sweetheart. Keep those legs open nice and wide. Just like before.”
You obeyed, lying back against the pillows and spreading your thighs for him. Robby reached over toward the nightstand, stretching one arm past you as he pulled open the top drawer. He rummaged through it for a few seconds, before his hand closed around what he was looking for.
A moment later he sat back, a condom held between his fingers. He held it up, searching for your eyes with his. “I’ve got this if you want me to wear it.”
You shook your head, reaching up to touch his arm. “No. I want you bare. I’m on the pill.”
You both knew it might not have been the smartest option, doing it raw, with nothing between you. But there was a deep, unspoken trust between the two of you, forged through long shifts, that made you feel safe. And in that moment, that trust felt solid enough to lean on.
The hunger that had taken over both of you made anything else almost unbearable. The need to feel each other completely bare, skin on skin, heat on heat, with nothing separating you, was overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” He tossed the condom aside, leaning down to kiss you deeply again. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips. “I want to feel all of you.”
He groaned, positioning himself between your legs and nudging the thick head of his cock against your slick entrance. The anticipation felt electric, this was the culmination of over a year of longing, of hours of texts, and now all that was left was this desperate connection. Robby gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he looked down at you with hunger.
The night is only beginning, and the way he’s looking at you promises he’s going to take his time ruining you in the best possible way.
As his cockhead was being rubbed up and down your folds, teasing your clit with every pass, coating itself with your juices, the sensation felt maddening, promising everything you’d fantasized about for so long. You whimpered, twitching your hips up instinctively to chase more contact.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Robby commanded you softly, the same authoritative tone that had guided you through countless procedures was now guiding you through this. He cupped your chin gently, tilting your face so your gazes locked. “Keep looking at me the whole time. I want to see you while I fuck you.”
You nodded shakily, unable to look away even if you wanted to. Robby continued rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, drawing out the anticipation until you were squirming beneath him.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your mouth. “So wet for me already. This pussy is going to take me so well. Breathe for me, relax and let me in.” He pressed forward slowly, breaching your entrance with only the tip. The stretch was immediate and intense, opening you up inch by inch as he sank deeper. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, but you forced your eyes open, locking them on his as he watched every flicker of pleasure cross your face.
“Easy, baby,” he cooed, stroking your thigh soothingly while the other braced beside your head. “You’re doing so good. Feel how you’re stretching around me? So tight and warm… fuck, you feel incredible.”
You moaned loudly as he continued sliding in, the deliberate thrust filling you completely until he was buried to the hilt, until his hips were flushed against yours. The fullness was overwhelming, his thick cock stretching your walls like nobody had stretched you before, pressing against every sensitive spot inside you.
Robby stayed still for a moment buried deep, resting his forehead against yours as he looked straight into your eyes. “There you go. All the way in. You took every inch.” He started to thrust with deep rolls of his hips that drag his cock along your walls with exquisite friction. “Wrap your legs around me. Hold me close while I fuck you.”
You did as he said, locking your legs around his waist and digging your heels into his lower back. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and you cried out in pleasure, digging your nails into his shoulders. Robby kept talking you through it, just like he knew you liked.
“That’s my girl. Feel that? I’m hitting that spot inside you, huh?” He angled his hips slightly, grinding deep on every stroke. Robby slid one hand up to cup and squeeze your breast, rolling your nipple as he thrusted harder.
Robby moved his hand from your breast to cup your chin. His grip was gentle enough not to hurt, yet firm enough that you felt every one of his fingers pressing against the bones of your jaw. “Look at me. Don’t look away. I want to see how good my cock feels inside this tight pussy.” He tilted your face up and held it there, leaving you no choice but to meet his eyes.
And God… what a glorious sight he was. This handsome man, with his face flushed, his brow glistening with sweat, devouring you with his gaze as he kept driving his cock into you.
His face was only inches from yours, and he kept fucking you in long strokes while he held your chin like that, as if he were starving for every single expression that crossed your face. He loved watching the way pleasure wrecked you. The way your lips parted around helpless moans, the way you bit down on your lower lip only for it to slip free again with a broken sound. The way your eyes went glassy and pleading, silently begging him for more even as your body trembled around his cock. He drank it all in like a man who had been thirsty for years.
With his free hand, he gripped your waist, holding you in place so he could drive into you with more power. Every slide of his cock stretched you perfectly, dragging the fat tip along your g-spot like that was what it was made for.
“Robby—oh god, yes!” You moaned loudly, raising your hips to meet his thrust and tightening your legs around him. Your tits were bouncing with every powerful stroke, and he leaned down to suck one nipple into his mouth again, flicking his tongue as he continued fucking you.
“You feel so good,” he groaned against your skin, switching to the other breast. “So tight and wet around me. This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Taking me so deep.” His hand on your waist slid down to grip your ass, lifting your hips slightly to change the angle as he thrusted harder. “Lift your legs higher for me, sweetheart,” he said against your neck,kissing and nipping the sensitive skin there. Ronny held the back of your thigh, helping guide your leg up. “That’s it… over my shoulder. Let me get deeper.”
You whimpered as he assisted you, hooking your leg over his shoulder. He did the same with the other, folding you nearly in half beneath him. The new angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper, until he was pressing the head firmly against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, grinding against your g-spot relentlessly.
“Fuck—Robby, it’s so deep like this,” you moaned, fluttering your eyes shut for just a moment as the intense sensation washed over you.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he chided gently but firmly, cupping your jaw with his hand to tilt your face back to his. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Keep them open. I want to watch you while I fuck you like this. Don’t look away.”
You forced your eyes open, locking onto his hungry gaze as he continued hammering into you. The eye contact made everything more intimate and overwhelming. The feeling of his hand leavinf your jaw and sliding down between your bodies made you shiver. Robby found your swollen clit and began rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts.
The combined stimulation was devastating. The pleasure was burning higher in your core, so close to finally exploding. Your body was arching and squirming beneath his frame as you scratched down his back and trembled over his shoulders. Every thrust, every rub of his fingers on your clit, every moan and grunt that escaped his mouth pushed you closer to the edge.
“That’s it,” Robby groaned, never removing his sight from yours. “Look at you taking my cock so deep. You’re getting close again, aren’t you? I can feel it. Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you cum all over my cock. Keep your eyes on me when you do.”
You bowed your back off the bed as your climax took over your body. A loud cry tore from your throat as your pussy clenched rhythmically around his length. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders and you dug your nails harder into his back when the waves of pleasure crashed through you. Robby sekpt thrusting through it, drawing out your orgasm with deep strokes and continued pressure on your clit.
“You look so beautiful when you cum for me… that’s it, sweetheart. Give it all to me. You’re being so good.”
By the time he finally slowed and gently pulled out of you, you were still trembling and gasping. Robby layed back on the bed beside you, with his cock hard and glistening with your release. “Come here, baby,” he said. “Get on top. I want to watch you ride me.”
He helped you shift positions, gripping your hips firmly to guide you as you straddled him. “Easy, sweetheart. Take your time… that’s it. Feel me right there? Let me watch you take every inch.”
You positioned the head at your slick entrance and began to sink down, inch by inch. The stretch was intense all over again, his girth opening you up as you lowered yourself onto him. Robby kept his hands still on your hips to steady you, stroking your skin soothingly while watching every expression on your face.
“Fuck, look at that,” he groaned. “You’re doing so well. Keep going… take a little more. Feel how full you are?”
Louder moans left your mouth as you sank lower, the fullness was overwhelming in the best way. Bracing your hands on his broad chest for balance, you finally took him to the hilt, resting your ass against his thighs. Robby squeezed your hips encouragingly. “Ride me. Roll your hips like that… yes, just like that.”
Whn you started moving, rolling, and grinding your hips in a steady rhythm, the pleasure built quickly. His cock was dragging along your walls as you found a rhythm that made your tits bounce and your clit grind against his pelvis.
Robby kept moving his eyes are everywhere, watching where your pussy stretched around his shaft, sliding up to your bouncing breasts, then locking onto your face. He reaches up with both hands, cupping your tits and rolling your nipples as you ride him.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep going… faster if you want. Take what you need from me.”
Without a word, you grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it upward. He sat up just enough to help you pull it off, and the second the fabric cleared his head, your hands were on him.
God, you loved his body. Your moved your palm slowly over his chest, feeling the coarse hair and the thud of his heart beneath your fingertips. You dragged your hands lower, mapping the soft, rounded curve of his belly with desire. It turned you on more than any gym-honed torso ever could. As you pressed your palms into the softness, your fingers dag in gently. Then you smoothed your hands over it again and again, savoring the way it yielded under your touch.
You were mumbling praises and moans between gasps, completely lost in the sensation. “Robby… you feel so good… so deep… fuck, I love your cock inside me…”
At one point, Robby planted his feet firmly on the bed, bent his knees, and started thrusting up to meet you. The change felt devastating, he was now fucking you from below with powerful strokes that made you cry out loudly as he droveinto you.
The slap of skin on skin grew louder when the slamming into you intensified. “Fuck—Robby!” you moaned, letting your head fall back as the pleasure overwhelmed you.
“Eyes on me if you can, sweetheart,” he growled, moving his fingers down to rub your clit again. “I’m getting close. You feel too good. You’re gonna make me cum.”
You were a moaning and squirming mess on top of him, riding and grinding as he thrusted up harder. His fingers on your clit and his cock hitting deep pushed you toward another peak, but it was his impending orgasm that had you focused on him.
“I’m gonna cum,” he groaned, snapping his hips up faster. “Fuck—can I cum inside you? Please, I want to fill you up.”
“Yes,” you gasped, riding him desperately. “Cum inside me, Robby. I want it. Fill me up. Please—”
With a deep groan, Robby thrusted up hard one last time and came, pulsing nside you, flooding your pussy with thick and warm ropes of cum. He held you down on him, gripping your hips tightly as he emptied himself completely. The feeling of him cumming inside you, fully claiming you, triggered your own smaller orgasm, making your walls clench rhythmically around his pulsing cock.
You both stayed locked together, panting. Robby stroked your back and thighs as you came down from the high befor pulling you down against his chest, kissing your forehead, keeping his cock still buried deep inside you as his release slowly leaked out around him, so much that you could feel the hot nd sticky evidence of his climax.
There were no more walls, just the two of you, finally giving in to everything you’ve both wanted and repressed for so long. You stayed draped on top of Robby for a long stretch of time, both of you catching your breath as the intensity slowly ebbed. Eventually, you lifted your head and looked at him. “That was… amazing. I wouldn’t even have dreamed that it’d be that good.”
He hummed in agreement, continuing his soothing path along your back. “It was. Better than I let myself imagine. You felt perfect.”
The praise made a warm feeling bloom in your chest. After a few more quiet moments, Robby gently helped you sit up, easing you off his cock with a shared sigh. You both winced slightly at the loss of connection and the feeling of emptiness, but he pulled you down beside him on the bed, wrapping his arms around you again as you cuddled into his side.
“So… you don’t regret it, do you?”
He met your eyes as a small smile began tugging at his lips beneath the beard. “Right now? I can’t regret having amazing sex with you. My mind is still somewhere up in the clouds.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow when reality hits, but tonight… no regrets.”
You nestled closer, throwing one leg over his. The cuddling felt easy, natural, like you’d been doing this for years. For tonight, the outside world, the hospital, the guilt, the what ifs didn’t exist. There was only the two of you, and Robby might be right about reality hitting tomorrow, but right now, in the darkness of his room, everything felt right.
A/N: Two attempts at posting this fic, and two times Tumblr’s stupid AI mistakenly flagged it😭 I’ve spent days trying to figure out what was causing the problem and doing everything I could to finally get this fic posted for all of you. So if you’re reading this, it means it worked. Hopefully.
If you end up enjoying the fic, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me share it with a reblog (only if you enjoyed the fic) cause I’ve put a lot of work on it
Well, I hope you enjoyed this little something I worked on when inspiration finally struck me. I don’t know if I read it somewhere or if we all collectively decided it, but Robby absolutely feels like the type of guy who talks you through it. You’re telling me the man who spends all day teaching med students and residents how to do procedures wouldn’t also be guiding his girl in bed? It’s literally in his nature!!! This TikTok also got me inspired because, yes, he absolutely looks at you through it too.
I also think Robby’s canon texting style is weirdly inconsistent. In that scene in season one where he’s texting Jake, sometimes he starts messages with capital letters and sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he ends sentences with a period, sometimes he doesn’t. In my head, he has perfect grammar but deliberately tries to sound Gen Z and chill when he’s texting someone younger than him lol. Anyway, I tried to replicate that here too.
Thank you all so much for your patience. I really appreciate it, and I hope I can stick around for good this time🩷
synopsisa patient tells you older is always better, Jack wants to know if you can confirm that.
warningsSMUT. MDNI. Oral (f and m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, slight dom Jack, penetration, p in v. language
authornotei dont even think god will take me after this one. this aint proofread
“So you think older is better?”
“Like anything good,” said Lu as you cleaned out her leg, pulling the light over to find the grit. “Like cheese... wine... sex.”
Your lips quipped up and you nodded. You didn't know how you started talking about this- you'd only asked what she was doing and how she fell. Date with an older guy, she said, was walking back from his when I fell. It must have been more of a tumble, roll and fall from the state of her leg that had got her through the waiting room and triage.
The next thing you knew she was highlighting how good sex was with an older man.
“It's like they have the experience and the confidence and they care more about getting you off than they do themselves,” she said.
“How many dates have you been on with the guy?” you asked, only trying to keep conversation while you plucked out the gravel. Trying to distract yourself from thinking about sex and older.
“Oh, this was the first one,” said Lu, laid back on the bed with a dreamy look in her eyes. “We've been talking for a few months on this app for older guys to meet women who are younger and interested. We met tonight and I had the best sex ever.”
The pling of gravel on the metal tray echoed out.
“You got a boyfriend?” she asked you.
You were silent, acting as if you were focused on the gravel. “I don't.”
Lu smirked at your silence. “But you got somebody?”
To that you had nothing to say. Maybe you did have somebody- or at least someone came to mind. Grey hair, stubbled chin and dark eyes in the shape of a doctor.
“Oh you got somebody,” said Lu.
You managed two more pieces of gravel and glass before she opened her mouth to speak again, to probably ask you another question but at the same time the door opened, bringing with it a small snap of the bustling sounds of the Pitt at night and the faint air of woodland and grease.
“How we doing in here?”
Jack walked in like he was un-aware to how you'd thought about him and then he came like you'd conjured him up. His grey hair, short stubble at the chin that he quickly rubbed at and dark eyes evaluating.
You betrayed yourself in looking to Lu.
“Is this him?” she asked, eyes lighting up.
Jack looked between the two of you. “Talking about me again, doc?” Jack asked.
You were focused on the task at hand but you didn't need to look to find him at your side, diligently watching you work.
“All good things,” said Lu.
He huffed out a little smile, hands held behind his back. His eyes bore into your head. “I'm Doctor Jack Abbott, I see you're in good hands here. How're her bloods?”
“Bloods are all clear though blood pressure is a bit high, we wanna keep an eye on that,” you said.
Jack nodded. “Well I'm sorry you're night took an unfortunate turn, Miss Marigold.”
She shrugged, rumpling her black dress. It was sleek and fit her in ways you could never imagine the dress fitting you. “Meh, it was pretty much done anyway.”
You were too caught up in the gossip she had been giving you that you didn't think about Jack not being informed. “He kicked you out?”
“No,” she said. “I left. Didn't want that awkward after sex small talk.”
“That's called aftercare.”
It was such a thrown away comment in Jack's words. He said it like he was prescribing her morphine. But the words rushed to your body, jolted you awake and alert to his presence.
Aftercare to some may have been normal, you didn't know other peoples sexual habits- you only knew yours and aftercare wasn't part of it. Your... sexual partners were few and far between and also loved to use your bathroom and sleep it off. Besides that was months ago before you started night shifts. Now your sex life was nothing but dry dry dry with the only occasional fantasy of your attending keeping you going.
“How old are you, Doctor Abbott?” asked your patient.
You caught Jack's smirk.
“Don't you know you should never ask a gentleman his age?” he said.
“Forties? Fifties?”
“Well I'm glad you ruled out thirties.”
You laughed.
“Are you single?”
“You asking?”
“And what do you think about younger women?” Lu asked with seemingly no shame. You carried it all in the blaze of heat in your cheeks.
“I don't know if this is an appropriate conversation to be having,” you said, trying to deflect. Looking between them, you found Lu waiting with curious eyes, not at all uncomfortable and Jack... surprisingly much of the same.
“You mean how do I feel about dating younger women?” asked Jack, standing at the other side of her bed.
In your eyeline.
“There's this app, called 'Always go older' it's catered for men over forty meeting younger women with similar interests. Go on dates, have long term relationships, or just sex.”
You couldn't believe the conversation you had been having with her before Jack came in, making the small space of the exam room even smaller. Having it with him in the room was your idea of a nightmare.
Jack nodded slowly, considering. “An app for... sugar daddies?”
You looked up at him. “You know what sugar daddies are?”
He pursed his lips at you in disappointment. “I'm old, I'm not clueless.”
“If you're interested I can get you a great discount,” said Lu like this was a business meeting. “Both of you.”
Jack looked at you but you missed whatever his eyes were trying to convey when you realised this app cost.
“You have to pay?”
“To be a member yeah, there can be a lot of creeps out there and they do real good work to make sure they're not in the club. You interested?”
“Not if I have to pay,” you said, thinking first of your bank account and nothing else. You only realised once you'd said it what it sounded like.
That you were interested. That older men and dating for you were hand in hand.
You looked up hoping at least Jack wouldn't have noticed. His eyes were on you, an amused tilt to his lips. “Okay!” you stood up, pulling off your gloves. “All the gravel and glass is out but I'm gonna get another blood test in to check your alcohol levels. I'll call a nurse to dress you up and we'll keep you for observation on that blood pressure.”
She nodded. “Do you think I could do a pregnancy test too? Just, while I'm here.”
Jack approached your side, watching you again. His head was tilted up but his eyes were down on you. He was attending but as always he waited on your say. He never overstepped, never made assumptions, always let you lead with your gut.
You wondered if that was what younger women were looking for...
“Sure, I'll get you a pot for a urine sample and we can get those tests.”
“Were you practising safe sex?” asked Jack.
Lu stretched out on the bed, pulling at the seams of her dress at her cleavage. “It feels better without.”
Jack seemed un-bothered, if anything understanding as his head slowly bobbed in a nod.
You'd never had sex without a condom before. Never wanted to risk it.
Jack held the door open for you, letting you lead the way out.
It was noisier and busier yet it was easier to breath. At least for a second before Jack's body brushed yours as he walked next to you.
“Is she a cop? Feel like we were being interrogated in there.”
“That or she gets paid to promote the app.”
You slid into a chair desperately trying not to look at the clock. You had a bad habit of doing so and the night would drag on. You pulled up her chart and distracted yourself with repeating what you'd already said to avoid the inevitable conversation you were gonna be having with Jack.
His mouth opened and you beat him to it.
“I swear we just started talking about that, I was just asking her how she fell and she told me about the guy and started talking about sex and the date and the app, I... I did not invite that conversation.”
He nodded. “It's okay if you did.”
“I didn't.”
“Okay.”
There was silence between you. Your finger moves quickly over the keyboard and Abbott stayed stood there, watching.
“If you're interested-”
“- I'm not,” you said, quickly, without really knowing what he was asking for.
Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Older men aren't too bad.”
“Oh no, I'm-I'm sure they're great, I have nothing against age, you know, old's great! Like.... like wine! Or-or cheese! I just, I mean, my love life- sex life is kinda, urm-” you stumbled over your words. It was annoying how Jack just stood there, letting you, without stopping or helping. “I just don't really have the time for dating.”
You worked nights and in the day you were catching up on sleeping and eating. The furthest your date life got was phone calls with Jack when he was grocery shopping and wanted your opinion, or sometimes in the morning when you got breakfast together before heading back.
He always walked you home, even if it meant an extra half hour before he got home. He was a gentleman like that.
He was still calm as he held his hands behind his back and watched you. “Are you looking to date?”
You chuckled. “Ha, you know a guy who works as crazy shifts as me?”
Jack's eyes lowered to yours. “Maybe. Might be a bit older though.”
You realised what he meant just as an ETA was called in.
The ETA had turned into five and for the rest of the night you and Abbott were too busy with the rest of the team to brush by each other. Every move was a hard move of shoulders to not bump or ripping of the gowns off and the harsh change of gloves. There was no time to talk about anything through the night, let alone whatever the hell had happened at the start of shift.
Your small reprise came when a man dressed in the makings of a rushed man walked in as the clock was striking past five in the morning.
“Excuse me, I'm looking for Lu Mari-gold?”
His hair was silver and growing at the back of his neck. It was brushed back handsomely and though he clearly must have been in his fifties (at least) he had a head full of hair and stubble growing on his chin.
He was handsome and even more so when you saw the bouquet of flowers he held in hand.
“Are you- are you family?”
“No I'm uh- I'm her partner.”
So you escorted him to her room, letting him in and giving him a small update on her care. He set the flowers next to her and you lingered, diligently checking her chart.
“Why'd you leave, honey?” he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and petting back her hair.
“Oh you know,” she said, casually. “Didn't want to do the whole awkward morning after thing.”
“There'd be nothing awkward about it. I was gonna make you breakfast, had plans to make love two you in the morning.”
Your cheeks flamed up as he said it so casually, like he was laying out a list for morning plans which.... he well was.
You decided to give them some privacy and save yourself form listening. You gently closed the door over and watched them through. He kissed her gently on the forehead, cradling her and Lu soaked it all in in adoring eyes and gentle touches.
It was a sort of tender touch you weren't used to even seeing, let alone feeling.
“Hey,” there was a ghost of a touch on the small of your back and Jack came to stand next to you. “That her boyfriend?”
“Yeah, though I don't know if they're their yet,” you admitted. “They only met tonight- well, last night. But she ran out.”
“And he came to her,” observed Jack. “They'll be just fine.”
“How'd you know?”
“The way he looks at her.”
When you looked at Jack he was already looking at you.
The thousand moments between the two of you played out. The gentle ghosts of a hand, the watchful moments but Jack was like that with a lot of people, attentive.
Your eyes fluttered as you looked away from him to the scene playing out again. “Are you some sort of relationship whisperer?”
He huffed a small amused laugh and followed your eyes to look ahead. “I just know things.”
It wasn't long before Lu and her partner were walking out, the flowers in hand as his arm was around her waist, supporting her.
They stopped off by the nurses counter where both you and Jack lingered working on separate cases.
“We just wanted to say thank you,” said Lu. “And here. There's a ninety percent success rate.”
She handed you a business card with the app name and promo code applied.
“Oh, er, thank you,” you said, un-sure on what to say other than a thanks.
Lu smiled kindly, leaning in to you as subtle as possible. Her eyes lingered somewhere over your shoulder. “Though I don't think you'll need it.”
You turned, catching sight of what she was watching.
Jack stood with Crus who was thrusting a tablet to him but he was looking at you.
“I'll- er- put it to good use. I'll see you in a couple days to check out those stitches.”
Slowly they left and you were stood frozen, staring down at the card. Ten dollars a month wasn't so bad if you didn't count the subscriptions you already had at the student loan and bills and such. You got three months half price, maybe three months to meet the love of your life or at least get some-
The card was plucked from you fingers.
Jack twirled it around. “You thinking about it?” he said, an edge to his voice.
“What? No- I don't know, she just- it was a parting gift?”
He nodded, reading the card. “Always go older,” he read.
“It's the app, younger women with, um, older men.”
“Interested?”
The way he looked at you felt more like an invitation than a general question. His eyes were hooded as he looked at you. It was the way he always looked at you but it felt weighted.
“It's just an app,” you excused.
Jack held the card out between the two of you, letting you chose.
It should've been your choice but it felt like there was a right and wrong answer.
Slowly, you plucked it from his fingers.
Two days later you found Jack Abbott on the app.
You were scrolling in the bathroom on your three minute pee break. You'd got the app that morning, caving in after spending a night tossing and turning and dreaming. You could say the dream was any old man, a faceless sort but even if that were true you felt the hard press of the chest, the tickle of the stubble. You imagined the freckles along the arms and the low rumble of his voice in your ear.
“That's it... that's it... take me in... all the way... god you feel beautiful,”
You woke wet between your legs and hot all over with little to no time to do anything about it.
You were desperate, you told yourself as you hastily built up a profile, picking what small pictures you had of yourself not in scrubs.
You hadn't had time to check it until the bathroom break and you don't make it three profiles before you were faced with Abbott.
The pictures of him were pictures you'd seen before, a selfie with his stupid smirk, the peek of army uniform there. There was another of him that seemed to a couple years ago and the third and final was a picture of him in scrubs.
It was a picture of the night shift but you could tell there were several cropped out, but you who stood next to him were still there.
You stared down at the picture of you two, his arm was thrown over your shoulders casually. He was grinning at the camera and you had a small smile to, your body leant into him. You hadn't even realised you did that.
Didn't Abbott know it wasn't a good sign to have a picture of another woman on the dating app? Unless it was your mother and you were a mamas boy.
There was knocking on the bathroom stool doors.
“Have you coded in there?” Crus called out.
You huffed and got off the toilet, pulling up your pants and pocketing your phone.
“If only.”
The night continued as usual, abdominal pains, charting, lacerations, charting, traumas and charting.
You'd hardly got a look at Jack when it was turning to six in the morning and day shifters started piling in.
You were passing the break room when the door swung open.
Jack popped out, catching you, his arms braced at the door. “Get in here, now.”
You were worried, reading through every patient you'd seen that day. You were sure you dealt with them all attentively, you'd never misdiagnosed someone before and today couldn't have been the day.
Jack closed the door behind him, checking nobody was on their way to find you before speaking. He was calm as he walked over to you, leaning his hand on the table and crowding you. “Why do you think I need to talk to you?”
You tried to think of something you'd done wrong. Anything. “Trauma came in, I er, didn't intubate quick enough?”
He shook his head and you tried to think again.
Before you could hazard a guess, he spoke. “I thought if you were interested, you'd have said something.”
There was a beat of silence.
“Interested?”
Jack's chest rose and fell in a deep breath. “In going older.”
“In going-” your mind short-circuited to his profile. If you'd seen him just a few hours ago, he could have seen you before then.
“I thought I had made my invitation clear,” he uttered.
“Invitation?” you repeated, feeling like a stuck record player.
“To go older,” Jack stepped closer and you could feel the warmth of his breath. “I was inviting you to try it.”
His breath somehow still smelt of mint freshness whereas you were sure yours was coffee stained from the three cups you'd already drunk.
“And not through the app,” he added.
You gulped. “You saw me on the app?”
“I saw you on the app.”
“But you're on the app,” you pointed out, eyes flickering up to his.
“I got it two days ago to make sure you didn't get it,” he said. His eyes weren't focused on yours. They were flickering between your eyes and your lips.
You wondered if you were still dreaming. If you were still in your bed, still dampening your panties and sheets with this crazy dream of him. You pinched yourself slowly but you felt the pain and didn't wake.
You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them and he was still there. Still calm. “You want to have sex with me?”
Jack's jaw clenched. “Honey, I want so much more than that.”
His finger was light as it brushed the back of your hand that rested on the table there.
“I want what you want, and maybe even more,” said Jack, his hand cradled your face. thumb dragging over your cheekbone. “You just got to tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.”
You'd thought that being with an older man meant being told what to do, that you wouldn't get a word in edge ways and yes, it was hot to think about.
You imagined Jack would be that, gently guiding you through your pleasure like he understood it better than you did. “You, I want you.”
Jack's lips were soft on yours, his head tilted at the perfect angle that meant he reached every edge of your lips at once. He didn't push against you, annoyingly so, he just let you feel the press of his lips like a fresh summers breeze.
It was your hands that fell on his chest, it was you that tilted your head back so he could reach deeper. It was your tongue tracing the bottom of his lips to get in deeper.
The door clattered and you jumped from Jack like he'd scorched you.
Jack only opened his eyes slowly, turning.
Robby leant on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he sipped from his coffee cup. “Good morning, brother.”
Jack took you home to his and carefully man handled you through the door. Once it was closed his lips sort yours in a hunger even a twelve hour shift couldn't kill.
He breathed against you hard as he kissed you, stirring you through his house with his hands migrating from your cheeks, to your neck, to your waist, to your hips, to anyplace he could get a hold of you.
Your hands made his neatly combed hair a mess as you leant against him, letting yourself be moved around like a rag doll.
“Is this your house?” you asked against his lips. You couldn't look around to study his space, he was hardly letting you go to catch your breath let alone turn your head.
He nodded, kissing you. His tongue entered the warmth of your mouth and he moaned into you. “We didn't break and enter, baby.”
“But you-” you gasped as his hands travelled under your shirt, sending a chill. “You don't rent.”
This wasn't your best dirty talk.
Jack smiled against your lips. “No, I have a mortage.”
You kissed him again, holding him close as your hand slithered to the back of his neck.
He was still navigating you through his house till you felt your back hit a wall. “Does that turn you on?”
Slowly he pulled at the ties of your scrub pants and he slid his hand in enough to get a feel of the warmth of your cunt through your panties. You were wet, impossibly so just by kissing him.
“Yeah,” he said, breathless. “It turns you on.”
Jack's teeth scraped down your neck, his tongue soothing where he nipped.
You tilted your head back, a silent invite for more.
A thigh of his slotted between your legs and you fell onto it.
“You wanna- wanna tell me about tax returns next?” you teased.
“Maybe,” he said, lifting his head back to yours. “I kinda wanna taste you first.”
With strong hands on your hips he turned you and pushed you through the open door into a master of a bedroom. The bed was in the middle, a four postered type thing with clean and made sheets. There was nothing messy about it, nothing to signify the exhaustion of a night shift.
Jack held your body into his, hips rutting against yours.
You acknowledged somewhere in the back of your head that he'd told you years ago he moved into a bungalow. No stairs- easier on his leg.
“Do you know how many times I've touched myself thinking about you, on that bed?” he whispered into your skin, kissing the words there.
“You-You have?”
You felt his hair tickle you as he nodded. “Do you like knowing that?”
“Yes.” You reached over, cupping the back of his head till your tongues were meeting in a sloppy kiss.
Jack's hands slipped down your waist, down your underwear and spread at your cunt till he could easily slip in a finger.
You gasped against him, body curling in pleasure you'd never felt.
He moved with you as if he was chasing you, sucking on your bottom lip.
“You like that?” he uttered, dragging out your bottom lip.
You nodded as he slowly withdrew his finger to slip another in.
“Need to hear you like it, baby.”
“I like it, Jack, like your fingers inside of me.”
The fingers on his free hand moved to wrap around your neck, tilting your head back till it rested on his shoulder. With this advantage he could like on the skin, feel the heat of you and the jump of your pulse as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, curling at the spots that got you shaking.
Your held onto his arm, fingers digging into the skin.
“You're gonna like it,” he whispered. “You're gonna like it so much you'll never go back, never want anyone else.”
His fingers worked quicker as you felt him leave marks at your neck, in places you knew people would be able to see. “Still like my fingers inside of you?”
“Yes, god, yes!”
“How'd they make you feel, baby?”
“Good, so good.”
Jack withdrew his hands and turned you, guiding you up on the bed. He leant back on his knees, slowly undoing the ties of his scrub bants.
You'd never been happier that they were black, showing the outline of his cock, hard and begging for attention.
“Take your top off.” He gestured.
You did and his eyes grew darker though didn't know how that was possible. Your hands trembled with eager excitement to get your hands on him or for him to get his hands on you. You moved to un-clasp your bra but Jack shook his head.
“Keep it on. Take my shirt off.”
His chest was broad and slightly defined. Freckles dotted around and one or two scares you'd never seen before were littered there too.
It was instinct to move in to his neck to kiss him but his hand wrapped around your neck and pushed you down till you bounced off the mattress.
“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me.”
You followed his order as he slowly dragged down your scrub pants and panties, getting a glimpse of how wet they were before they were chucked aside.
Hopefully that was the time Jack let you see all of him. No.
Like a prized possession Jack laid you out and spread your legs.
It was suddenly all too real. The haste of the drive over, his hand on your thigh, everything he said about being with an older guy and how Lu had told you how experienced they were. Would he expect something you couldn't deliver? Did you expect something?
“Jack,” you said only his name but you didn't know what else you were trying to lead on anyhow.
His eyes were earnest though clouded by desire as he pushed your legs up till you were sprawled out for him. “I'll stop any time you want.”
You watched him get closer to your heat. Felt yourself cry out for his attention.
“You're gonna like it, gonna love it,” he promised, eyes focused on you as he slid his middle finger inside of you. “Relax... relax.”
You tried to but as another one of his fingers slid into you, creating a slow thrusting pattern and his other hand kept playing with your cunt to get your lips spread you could do anything but relax.
Your breathing kicked up, your pulse was high.
As Jack leant down to slowly flick his tongue against your clit you threw your head back and moaned.
“Oh shit, Jack- Jack!”
His gaze flickered up to you, daring you to try to speak.
When you did it came out as another moan, his tongue flattening against your bud of nerves.
He played with you like that, moulding your legs around to where he wanted them. Flat on the bed, over his shoulders, up in the air. Anything to get him deeper inside of you.
All the while you alternated between watching him and falling back on the bed in aches of pleasure.
Jack watched where his fingers disappeared inside of you. “Swallowing me up, can't wait to get my cock inside of you.”
“Want it.... want it....” you mumbled, head back on the softness of his quilt.
“Yeah?” he whimpered.
Your hand fisted the quilt that smelt like him and you smothered your face in it as his fingers curled.
“Oh my god, honey... yeah....” Jack moaned before you felt the wet of his tongue on the heat of you.
You couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Whether it was his spit on your cunt or your want that was pooling into wetness on his sheets.
There was no warning, only your moans, as you came around his fingers and tongue. You had no idea you could come so quick, had no idea it could be pulled from your head to your toes.
Jack let your orgasm play out, pulling back to watch it leak. “Oh yeah... yeah...” his fingers swept up the mess lightly. “You're so sweet, oh yeah... moan like that...”
His tongue went in, licking up all the mess around you.
“Jack please, I can't- I can't!”
Your body was trembling beyond your control and he was still playing around with you and your sensitive bud. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if you could hold yourself together from breaking out in cries.
You hadn't noticed your eyes were screwed shut until you felt him move and heard the demand in his voice.
“Look at me.”
When you did you found Jack standing at the foot of his bed, scrub pants deserted and hand wrapped around his own cock.
You looked at him and then some.
“Touch me, touch me,” he said gently, prying your hands away from your chest with care.
With guidance he helped you sit up and helped you feel his cock.
You'd done this before but your mouth had never watered by the idea, your body never wept with the need to suck another guy off. Nothing about him disgusted you. Not the scars around his knee where he lost his leg, not the hair that dusted the base of his cock in tamed grey.
It moved you on.
You only jerked him off slow, only a little at first but his breath became laboured.
Jack's eyes closed as he grabbed a hold of your legs like they were his anchor.
You wanted to speed up.
“Go easy on me,” he said with a drunk grin. “It's been a while.”
You moaned and inched your body closer to the edge of the bed, your heat wanting to swallow him up.
Jack's eyes watched as you withered. He held onto your wrist that stayed wrapped around the base of his cock. “No, no, no, don't put it in yet.” Slowly he came to lean over you. “I want you to suck on it. You want it? Want to suck this old mans cock?”
In answer, the two of you moved quickly till he was lying flat on the bed and you were over him, slowly taking the tip in your mouth.
“Oh my god... oh yeah...” he moaned. Jack petted back your hair. “Take the tip.... take the tip... swirl your tongue...”
You took in his tip and swirled the tongue just as he said, watching him as you took him deeper with his careful help.
A string of 'oh yeah, don't stop' fell from him like a mantra as you took him deeper and faster, the need growing in you again.
“It's not- it's not too much?” he checked in, his head falling back.
You only took yourself off him to shake your head before sucking him into your mouth again, holding the base of him and working what you couldn't manage.
Jack groaned, hands flying to his head as his fists clenched. “You're so good... oh you're so good, baby.”
You took him deep and hollowed your cheeks.
Jack lurched. “Fuck! Fuck- shit, don't do that,” he moaned, guiding you off with pink cheeks. He chuckled, guiding you up to him. “I'll finish if you do that.”
He kissed you, never minding the both of your arousal on each other's lips. “They're are so many ways I want to be inside of you.”
You moaned against his lips. “I want you inside me, Jack.”
“I know, I know.” His brows pulled together as he seemed to have a battle in his own mind about just how to have you.
You didn't make it easier. In temptation you lied back on his bed and spread yourself out. All the while he was still caught up in thinking.
You almost started playing with yourself to relieve the build up when Jack grabbed your wrist and guided your fingers into his mouth.
He gently kissed the pads of your finger tips. “Turn around.”
Jack lied next to you, your back flush with his chest. He lined his cock up with your cunt, slowly sliding the length of it between your folds.
“Con-condom?” you mumbled, dreading the feel of anything that wasn't completely him.
Jake kissed your shoulder. “It feels better without. I'm clean.”
You nodded, breathless at the promise of feeling him. All of him. “I'm clean and I have a, an IUD.”
He kissed you again as he nudged the head of his cock into you.
Your moans echoed around the room as he held onto you, inching himself in further and further.
Only once you'd just got the feel of all of him he was slowly retreating to push back in again. For a moment it was only the sound of the both of you breathless and the gentle sounds of skin on skin as he moved at a steady pace, growing needier, getting deeper by every thrust.
“Oh my god... oh my god...” you moaned.
Jack's hands grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts in urgency. The sun was just peeking through the blinds and a thin layer of sweat glowed off both your bodies.
You tried to grind your backside into him, desperate to feel relief as his pace remained steady.
Jack gripped your hip, leaning into your ear. “Don't rush it, don't rush it,” he nipped at your ear. “Don't be greedy, we'll go slow.”
You didn't want slow. You wanted fast. You wanted hard.
The slow drag of his cock through your walls drove you mad. He reached around, fingers circling your clit as his other hand finally un-hooked your bra.
It wasn't long before Jack was slamming into you, harder, your body rocking with his movements and the head of his bed hitting the wall.
“God, it's been so long.... you feel amazing...” said Jack as his fingers circled your clit hard.
“Jack I'm gonna-”
At the warning he stilled himself inside of you.
“Not yet, honey, not yet.”
You whined, hand moving round to grab at his ass and hold him in.
Jack groaned and bit into your neck. “I know, I know. Just gimme a minute.”
You had no choice as he slid out of you and moved you around so you were flat on the bed. You felt his fingers thrust inside of you again harder than before.
His breath was hard, chest rising and falling quickly. “I wanna make you come in so many ways I can't chose how.”
He was a man starved, ravenous as he dedicated time to licking you up again, if only for a minute. But he moaned around you, sucked in your nerves and released it to the mercy of his fingers.
“Jack!” you yelled, screw the neighbours.
There was a growl somewhere in the back of his throat as he loomed over you.
“You wanna fuck me?”
“Yes, Jack, bad so bad!”
“Okay, okay honey, fuck me then, come one baby.... I know you can.”
Jack pushed into you as the both of your eyes clashed watching the pleasure in each others eyes. He set a brutal pace, holding a leg up as he peppered kisses along your chest.
“J-Jack-”
“Tell me how good I feel.”
“So good.”
“So good, yeah baby, so good,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, god baby!” He reached over and gripped the headboard, body tight in pleasure.
You arched off the bed.
“I need you to come,” he announced, eyes screwed up in pleasure as he thrusted into you hard, the slap of his balls on you.
You watched where he met you as your legs shook.
“I need you to come so I can come.... one more time, baby.... one more time, please....” he begged.
The sight of him sweating, his body rigid, eyes shut in pleasure and mouth hanging open only to voice obscene moans was enough to have you coming over the edge.
Your walls tightened.
Jack must have felt it as he steadied himself over you, fingers falling between your bodies to work you through it. “That's it.... that's it.... that's it...” He kissed along your collarbone.
You released over him, gasping, body melting into him as Jack rode out your orgasm.
“Arg... oh god... you feel so good, I-urg-”
Dirty words spilled from your mouth as Jack latched onto your mouth and let go inside of you.
The both of you were a panting, sweating mess as he calmed down, slowly slipping out of you but kissing away every whine and protest.
Your breathes slowed and slowly Jack slipped out of you, watching his release leave you.
His eyes flickered back up to you, brushing away hair that had stuck. “I've never come like that in my life.”
You were still catching your breath, still waiting for the race of your heart to dull. “Your welcome?”
Jack chuckled, falling beside you and throwing an arm over you. “I think you can delete that app now.”
You groaned with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face. Gently, Jack pried away your hands and kissed the palms of them. You turned on your side. “Are you going to delete it too?”
“Honey I only got it cause I couldn't stand the thought of you getting it, and some other gut thinking he can treat you better.”
“I always hoped it would be you.”
Jack kissed you tenderly. “So?” he asked against you. “You think older is better?”
The cockpit came alive around you. Warning lights disappeared one by one as power surged through the Razor Crest. The engines rumbled beneath your feet.
You didn’t wait. Your hands flew across the controls, bringing every system online as fast as the battered ship would allow.
“Din!”
Outside, another volley of blaster fire lit the clearing.
Through the cockpit viewport, you caught a glimpse of him ducking under one of the landing struts before returning fire. Soren had taken cover behind a fallen tree several feet away, forcing the advancing troopers to keep their heads down.
“The ships powered!”
Din looked toward the cockpit only for a heartbeat before firing another shot.
“Start the engines!”
“Already ahead of you.”
Your hands moved across the controls almost on instinct. Battery systems. Fuel pressure. Repulsor startup.
The entire ship shuddered beneath your feet before the engines finally caught with a deep, familiar roar. The hull trembled as the engines fought against the weeks of wear and the damage it had just taken.
Din glanced to the cockpit, hearing the unmistakable sound rumble of the engines. He turned to Soren and gave him a sharp nod.
“Move!”
Soren broke from cover first, sprinting through the trees toward the ship as blaster bolts flew through the air behind him.
Din fired three quick shots, forcing the nearest troopers back.
“Go!”
Soren disappeared up the loading ramp. You abandoned the cockpit, racing down the ladder to the cargohold.
The moment you saw Din cross the threshold you grabbed the emergency ramp controls. Soren dove inside just as another round of blaster shots slammed into the ship. You hit the switch, the loading ramp groaned upward.
A final bolt through the narrowing gap, ricocheting harmlessly across the floor before the door sealed with a heavy clang.
“We’re sealed!”
You made your way toward the cockpit ladder as you spoke, Din already sat the pilot seat. The repulsorlifts whined beneath the hull.
The Razor Crest lurched upward from the clearing, branches bending beneath the force of the engines. Outside the viewport, blaster fire chased you into the sky as the atmosphere thinned. Suddenly there was nothing below you but stars beginning to appear.
Soren exhaled sharply behind you.
“They’ll follow us.”
Din didn’t look away from the controls.
“Let them.”
The ship hummed steadily as hyperspace calculations began to spool in the background.
You stood up, adrenaline still buzzing under your skin, and moved toward the rear of the ship. Grogu. You needed to make sure he was okay.
He was exactly where you had left him, a small hand curled against the fabric of the seat. Asleep. Like none of it had ever happened. Like the galaxy outside didn’t just try to tear itself apart around him.
You stayed there for a moment longer than necessary. Just watching him breathe. Like if you looked away too fast, the last few hours might catch up and hit you all at once.
Behind you, the cockpit stayed quiet. Too quiet. No alarms. No blaster fire.
Just the steady hum of hyperspace pulling you further and further away from everything that just tried to kill you. You finally turned back, looking at Din as his back faced you in the pilots seat. Hands resting on the controls. Not moving.
Soren stood near the back of the cockpit, watching stars stretch past the viewport like threads of light. No one spoke. Not yet.
There was always a moment like this after running. When survival stopped being so urgent and reality started again. You stepped back into the cockpit, Din’s voice broke the silence first.
“Is he okay?”
You nodded.
“Sleeping.”
That was all he needed, he gave a small nod like that confirmed something important. Soren cleared his throat, taking a few small steps toward the two of you.
“They’ll keep looking.”
Din finally leaned back, relaxing a bit in his seat.
“Then they’ll keep wasting time.”
You looked at him. At the way he said it so simply. Like being hunted was just weather, something to move through. Not something that defined you.
And that’s when it hit you. Not the fear. Not the exhaustion. The anger. You stepped closer, stopped right beside him.
“Do you ever stop?”
Din tilted his head, looking up at you from where he was sitting.
“Stop what?”
“Running into situations where you could die.”
Silence. Even Soren went still. Your voice sharpened before you could stop it.
“You keep acting like your life matters less than everyone else’s.”
Din didn’t response immediately. Which somehow made it worse. He finally responded, calm as ever.
“It’s not less important.”
He paused, looking away from you back out the viewport.
“Just replaceable.”
That did it. You shook your head once.
“No.”
Din turned slightly toward you. You didn’t back down.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Another beat of silence. Soren looked away, like he suddenly regretted having ears.
Din didnt argue. He just watched you. Like he was trying to understand why that mattered so much. Quieter than before, he slowly spoke.
“Why not?”
You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. Because how do you explain that?How do you explain him?
The way he kept putting himself between you and everything else like it was the only place he belonged. Your hands curled slightly at your sides.
“I…”
You stopped, staring at him. The ship hummed around you. Hyperspace stretched endlessly across the viewport.
Soren shifted quietly behind you, but he didn’t interrupt. Din waited. Not pushing. Not filling the silence. Just waiting like he had all the time in the galaxy. Your throat tightened.
“You stayed… everytime you didn’t have to.”
The words came out smaller than you meant them to. Din didnt move. A beat passed. And then another.
Soren looked away, like he suddenly realized he was witnessing something he shouldn’t. Din’s voice came low.
“That’s not a reason.”
You shook your head immediately.
“It is to me.”
Silence again. Not the tense kind like before, something heavier. Something softer.
Din leaned back in the pilots seat, like the weight of it had landed somewhere he didn’t expect. Soren cleared his throat. Tapping away at a datapad he’d borrowed.
“There’s more to this if you two are done.”
Din turned around facing the man.
“What do you mean?”
Soren hesitated briefly.
“Your father didn’t just erase records. He erased you from Imperial systems that shouldn’t have had access to you in the first place.”
A wave of nausea hit you.
“What does that mean?”
Soren’s jaw flexed.
“It means someone important knew you existed.”
Din’s hand shifted slightly on the console, alert.
Soren looked between the both of you.
“And they couldn’t risk that information existing.”
Silence dropped again. Heavier this time. Because now it wasn’t just about survival. It was about why you were ever in danger to begin with.
Din stood slowly from the pilots seat. He turned toward you fully now.His gloved hand came up gently, resting against your cheek.
Carefully, like you might break if he wasn’t.No commands. No distance. Just him.
Summary: You show up for Joel's gig when your dad can't make it.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Dbf!Joel/Divorced!Joel. Age gap (reader is in her 30s, Joel is in his 50s). Gray sweatpants are their own warning. Singer!Joel. Alcohol. Jealousy. Fake relationship if you squint. Making out. Grinding. Unprotected piv. M!oral. Creampie. Reader is in her thirties, able bodied and has breasts/vagina. Feel free to picture Game Joel or Show Joel ❤️
A/n: This has been in my wips for ages and I've been chipping away at it a little.. when I checked on it today I realized it was finished 🎆 This is just a little slutty something from when I fixated on what Joel's calluses would feel like after playing that six-string all night 😏
dividers by @/fae-and-wolf 👑
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
"Joel has a gig tonight," your dad reminds you at breakfast. "I can't go 'cause I've gotta work out of town. So I want you to be there for him."
You frown over your omelet. Your dad's best bud Joel moved in recently when his wife got their house in the divorce. It's different having another man around, especially one who has memories of you from when you were five. "He doesn't need a babysitter," you mumble.
"'M not sayin' that. I just mean you go and just clap for 'im a lil' bit. He ain't got nobody else."
"What if I have plans tonight?"
Your conversation is cut short as Joel appears, a faded Longhorns t-shirt adorning his broad frame and gray sweatpants that immediately draw your attention to the outline of his dick. He seems to only wear them when you're around.
"Mornin' Bud, mornin' Sunshine," he greets smoothly and you make a face at your nickname.
"Baby's gonna be at your show tonight," your dad announces. "They called me in for an extra shift, so I won't be able to make it."
"Oh that's too bad." Joel's eyes are on you, and he doesn't sound sorry at all. "I can give you a ride up there if you want," he offers.
Joel has been in kind of a slump lately, and you feel bad telling him no. "Sure, that sounds good to me."
"Be ready by ten. We'll leave then."
By the time you're ready to leave with Joel, you've showered, fixed your hair, added some makeup and spritzed a little perfume. In a black pleather miniskirt, cropped band tee, and your favorite pair of Docs. When Joel sees you coming down the stairs he has to clench his jaw to keep it from dropping. "Ready?" he asks, hoping his gruff tone will downplay how you're affecting him.
You take off in his truck. Downtown Austin is already packed with traffic, but Joel knows a shortcut, and he swings around to one of the back parking lots. You're let in through the back entrance and Joel starts to set up.
"Good luck out there," you tell him, giving him a smile before you go find a seat.
"Thanks. I'll need it," he says jokingly.
You order a drink at the bar and bring it back to a table up in front close to the stage. Joel's onstage, seated on a stool, his guitar upright in his lap. "Good evenin' everyone. I'm Joel, and uh, here's a couple songs. Hope y'all enjoy."
He clears his throat and strums a chord before starting his song. His voice is deep and rich, almost sensual. The song is about a lost love, a woman who wouldn't stay, and you wonder if he wrote it about his ex wife. He finishes to a semi-enthusiastic round of applause. It's early and the bar isn't that full. People aren't drunk enough to cheer so loud.
His next couple of songs are covers, some Tim McGraw and Alan Jackson. The crowd gets more excited. It eases the transition for Joel to sing another one of his own songs, keeping the crowd enchanted with his deep vocals and fun lyrics.
After finishing his set the crowd roars in appreciation. He thanks them, casting you a glance and a smile as well.
"Joel, you were incredible!" You hug him as you welcome him back to the table.
"Thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it," he responds, looking shy, his face pink and slightly glistening with sweat from the stage lights. You can tell he's feeling good about himself. You settle in to watch the other acts performing that night when you're interrupted by a couple of women who approach Joel and start flirting with him. They're attractive, closer to his age. A little uncomfortable, you excuse yourself to get some drinks at the bar, watching Joel flirt with the women. A strange feeling settles in your stomach and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Beers in hand, you march back to the table and plant yourself on Joel's lap, staking your claim. "He's taken," you announce to the women as you swig your bottle.
The two women sport amused grins as you catch Joel completely off guard. "Oh really? By who?
"Me. I'm the girl he's taking home and fucking tonight."
The other girls scoff their way into stunned silence. "Joel, babe, you're coming back to my place, right?" You give him a wink. It's technically true because you rode up together.
"Yeah," he answers quickly. "Definitely."
The two women pout and exchange glances, rolling their eyes and silently communicating their departure. "I guess we'll see you around then."
"Not anytime soon, sugar tits," you call out as they leave. Joel chuckles at your bravado.
"You have a dirty mouth," he says.
"I'm awfully rowdy when I drink," you say with an innocent shrug.
There's heat in his gaze as he watches you, studying you in a way he never has before, and you meet his gaze in a flirty challenge.
"You know.. I've been wondering.." You slowly trace your fingertips on his arm.
"About what?" he asks, bristling at your touch in a good way.
"Your fingers. They're probably pretty rough from playing guitar."
He chuckles. "Yeah, the tips are covered in callouses." He traces them over your soft palm. "See? Feels like sandpaper."
You smile. "I think it feels good. Might feel good in other places too."
"Wanna find out?"
You're back at the truck, his guitar fitting nicely in the backseat and you fit nicely in his arms as he kisses you, your tongues chasing each other under the crackling glow of the neon sign over the exit.
"You like when I touch you like this, don't you?" he asks, trailing his fingers on the insides of your thighs under your skirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. "I've been wanting to do this for weeks," he confesses.
"Really?"
"Oh yeah," he murmurs, leaning down to place kisses on your neck. "Bein' under the same roof, watchin' you walk around in those shorts and tank tops.. it's been drivin' me crazy."
"Fuck, I don't want to wait til we get home.."
"We don't have to wait. Get in the backseat."
Once you're both in he pulls you on top of him, straddling his lap. You feel his hardness beneath you and grind down, teasing him. Joel groans and grits his teeth. It's taking everything in him not to immediately pounce on you. His hands grip your hips, guiding your movements as he grinds up into you, his dick in need of more than just friction. "Fuck," he moans, head thrown back against the headrest.
"Oh, I will.." You smirk, kissing down his neck.
A shiver goes up his spine; one of his hands wanders up and tangles itself in your hair. "God, the things I want to do to you.."
"Let's do them now," you say in a sultry voice.
"Really?" He sounds hopeful.
"Absolutely." You lift your skirt, taking off your panties.
He quickly unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down. You straddle him again, aligning yourself with the thick head of his cock. His grip is tight on your hips as he presses inside. You slide down on him, lips parted in an O as he fills you up inch by inch until he's bottomed out inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust to him before gently rolling his hips against yours.
"Fuck," you sigh. He's stretching you deeply, your hips undulating against his in rhythmic motions. He guides you, one palm on your hip, the other gripping your ass, squeezing it as you ride him. Kissing him again, you suck on his tongue - he tastes like beer and tangy lime.
He holds you in place, undulating his hips against yours, guiding you. "Keep goin'.. just like that.." he groans in between kisses. He pulls away a little, watching himself go in and out of you, his thick glistening length pistoning. You watch with him, turned on by the sight. It's the hottest thing you've ever seen.
"Fuck, you're so naughty," you gasp. "Does my dad know what kind of person his best friend is?"
"He trusts me," Joel grunts out.
"Even with me?" You giggle as he speeds up, moaning rhythmically.
Joel stops suddenly, lifting you up, pulling nearly all the way out of you. You whine at the loss of him. "If he knew what I was doin' right now, he'd probably kill me."
"And me.." you try to grind down on him but he's preventing you. "But if my last fuck on earth was the great Joel Miller, I wouldn't complain one bit."
"You got a sassy mouth," he mutters.
"Mhm.. what do you think I should do with it?"
His thumb caresses your cheek. a smirk on his lips. "A girl like you already knows."
The little smirk, the quirk of his brow gets you going, and you lift off him and sink to your knees on the floorboard before him. Joel groans as you put him in your mouth, head tipped back as his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it back so you can look up at him, your mouth stuffed full with his cock. He holds your head still and thrusts in, and you moan, feeling him at the back of your throat, your eyes watering as you try not to gag around him. Your mouth fills with saliva as Joel gently pulls your head all the way down on him. "Good girl.." he sighs, leaning back against the headrest. Your cunt clenches at his praise. He keeps you there until you tap his thigh and he lets you up for air, still slobbering over him, pumping him with your fist. "So messy," he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.
"You like it messy," you reply, flattening your tongue against his thick root, licking all the way up and dribbling more saliva onto him.
"Get on up here," he growls, pulling you up by your waist. "I wanna blow my load where it counts."
He impales you on his cock, driving in easier with how wet you are and how stretched he got you before. Your slick is already dripping down to his balls, which slap against your ass with each enthusiastic thrust. You're both careless and sloppy, the truck bouncing with your movements.
"Fuck me, Joel! Fuck me, Joel!" you're moaning, his hands keeping their iron grip on your hips.
"Come for me, baby girl," he grunts, trying like hell to hold back until you come all over him. "I know just what you need to get you there." He brings his calloused fingers to your clit, swiping and pressing, circling and teasing until your pussy grips him so good his vision goes white. "You're so close, ain't ya? Let go for me. C'mon and soak my lap, sugar."
"Joel!" you gasp, body seizing up as your orgasm crashes over you, electricity shooting through your limbs as you come apart under his touch, under his cock still driving into your sopping cunt. You squeeze around him and still he holds back. "Tell me where you want it," he grits out. You tell him to come inside, to fill you up the way you both want him to, and he obliges, moving you up and down on him like a fuck toy invented just for his pleasure, slamming you down on his cock until he shoots his cum so deep inside you'll be dripping him for days.
The aftermath is far from peaceful. You're still panting like dogs in heat, a few rough laughs escaping as you try to gather your thoughts during the comedown.
"You're gonna be a real handful, ain't ya?" he mumbles jokingly.
"Me?" you ask innocently.
"Yeah, you." He presses a hot kiss to your neck. "C'mon, let's get out of here and get some food in you."
⊹ ࣪ ˖ SUMMARY ♥︎ you and jack have to think about the biggest decisions of your life as you reminisce on your relationship.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ CONTENT ♥︎ fluff! ꒰ 𝟏.𝟏𝐤 ꒱
⊹ ࣪ ˖ AUTHOR'S NOTE ♥︎ my wrist still hasn’t healed and hurts whenever i move it but… so much ice on me they thought i got deported. there is no plan b; all my opps will get aborted. if money grew on trees, i'd be the lorax. i'm gonna slime you out, and i don't even need borax. i missed the shot but at least i carried.
જ⁀➴ ♥︎ JACK ABBOT ⊹ ࣪ ˖
you had been with jack for nearly two years now; the two of you shared his house along with a pet, who had been a kitten when you two found her, but had now grown into an adult cat by now, ironically named snoopy.
you were walking home after having dinner with some of his friends, your fingers intertwined, jack pulling away and spinning you around, both of you laughing as he pulled you close to him again, his nose nuzzled against yours.
"do you think they liked me?" you spoke, looking into his hazel eyes, making jack let out a chuckle, "they loved you. not as much as i do, though."
your smile widened, and you pressed a small peck on his lips, only to hear a quiet mewl coming from behind you.
you pulled back with your brows furrowed, looking to the bushes behind you, "did i make it up or did you hear that?"
"i did." jack looked to the bushes, his brows equally as furrowed until his eyes found a white cat with black ears sitting in the bushes, mewling pitily at the pair.
you turned around to see what your boyfriend was looking at, immediately kneeling down and aww'ing over the kitten, reaching out to her, but she seemed hesitant, only for her to purr once you petted her.
"we need to take her home." you looked to jack with a serious look on your face. "alright. we'll take her home." jack chuckled.
you never really expected marriage in your relationship with jack; you knew how much he loved his late wife, and you respected that. to you, he turned from boyfriend to forever partnership. jack introduced you to everyone as his partner. fiancée, let alone wife, never crossed your mind.
but as you stared down at the two lines on the test you'd just taken, you really didn't know what kind of a title you'd have.
you'd never been on a blind date before, but lydia assured you that the guy she was setting you up with was perfect for you.
so you sat at the booth she told you to sit at, re-reading a book of some of edgar allan poe's works, until a man whose hair had more salt than pepper and a ring on his finger sat across from you and cleared his throat, making you lower your
"poe? i'm more of a bierce guy."
you raised your brows, putting the book back into your bag, "you read ambrose bierce?"
those words turned a random blind date into you and jack going back to your apartment, looking up at stars that you projected onto the ceiling while the two of you spent the entire night talking about your favorite writers and yourselves, the next day starting with you going to breakfast, and once you'd finished dinner, jack had to leave.
"i need to get ready for work." jack sighed, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your forehead, "i'll see you on thursday?"
"if you're lucky." you smiled, before grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, bringing his lips to yours for a proper kiss, and when your lips came together, it felt like electricity was running down your spine, and the rest of the world went dark for a moment.
when you pulled away from jack's lips, you both were breathing heavily, and you were breathing in his air, "i'll definitely see you on thursday."
you took another test, hoping that it had been a false positive, but after two minutes; another two lines.
"are you sure you're alright with me moving in? i know this is the house you shared with your wife." you asked jack, looking around at the empty moving boxes you'd brought with you and then to the pictures of jack and his late wife.
"what? i mean, i asked-"
"shush." you pressed your finger to your lips, "i was asking jane, not you." you shot daggers at jack, before closing your eyes. "mmhm. he is a handful." you turned to jack with a smile
even with the third one you took, that you hoped would prove the last two tests wrong? two lines.
you were fast asleep until you heard the door open and close. the bad part about living together was that you knew when jack was in and out, just because of your heavy, loud door. but there was something different about the way he closed the door today. it felt heavier than usual.
you were still half asleep, listening to jack taking some ice and pouring whiskey into his glass, slipping your slippers onto your feet and putting on your nightrobe, tying it around yourself. when you got to the living room, you saw jack standing there, staring at your garden through the sliding door, watching the sun slowly creep up.
you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around him, and jack leaned into your embrace, closing his eyes for a moment.
"he was a veteran." jack spoke after a moment, swallowing. "he'd had a long battle with lung cancer, and he was winning; he was living a normal life with his family. but they brought him in tonight. he had a stroke."
you turned jack around, pulling him to you, your bodies as close as they could be, your embrace tighter than ever, and the only words you could speak were "i'm sorry."
jack stood at his late wife's grave, new flowers he'd just gotten resting against her headstone, her letter in his hands with the last words being 'try to find happiness again. for me.'
"i managed to find it again." jack let out a sad chuckle, the velvet box burning in his jacket pocket, "but i hope it's alright i want to marry the person that brought all that happiness to me."
jack dug out the velvet box, opening it and turning it to his wife's grave, "when i lost you, i was a wreck. but she was the first one to really make me smile. to make me laugh. she says she wishes she could've met you." jack chuckled softly, his eyes watering "you would've loved each other."
he stayed there for another twenty minutes talking to his wife, until he finally started making his way home.
you were pacing around the kitchen, biting down on your lower lip, making it bleed, but when you heard the door open and close, you positioned yourself in the middle of the living room, preparing yourself to break the news to jack.
after you heard the usual thud of jack setting down his bag and his clothes, he walked into the living room,
"i need to talk." you said simultaneously, and you laughed softly, "you go first."
suddenly, jack got on one knee, pulling out a velvet box from his chest pocket and opening it while looking up at you, his hazel eyes seeming like he was pleading.
you stammered for a moment, until you blurted out "i'm pregnant."
CW: sugar daddy ceo harry x pa!yn. hella yearning but a rich af harry who wants to spoil his baby! there's a little bit of violence so be warned!! minors please dni!!! ENJOY!!
WC: 12.7k
Read part one here.
PREVIEW:
This should have rubbed him the wrong way… it should have stopped him from entering his card details on the website and paying an extra forty dollars for gift wrapping and an extra two hundred dollars for overnight delivery.
But it didn’t. It was like his fingers moved on their own accord when he purchased the item and wrote out the small note he wanted her to have. The man could only hope Y/N didn’t take his gesture the wrong way, though he was unsure if there was any other way to take it. He hoped she saw where he was coming from; hoped she didn’t get offended and send the parcel right back to the post shop.
His doubts were eased when he came into work that same afternoon after the conference him and Mitch had attended and Y/N seemed painfully normal. Maybe even a bit happy, if Harry’s own eyes weren’t betraying him. She was chippier than usual—she looked nicer today as well, sporting one of Harry’s favorite items on her which was the matching pink skirt and blazer set she wore very rarely. Her hair was down and her cheeks matched the shade of her lapels…
She was always very beautiful, but today she was pretty.
Most of the day today comprised of her, Mitch and Harry locked up in his office brainstorming ideas, and fuck, he was finding it hard to cocentrate on anything apart from her scent which quite literally invaded all of his senses. She was driving him nuts and he was sure she had no idea of it.
Harry was always a very calm and composed man.
Having been in a prestigious leadership position from such a young age, he had to learn how to adopt to every sort of situation, no matter how uncomfortable or awkward it may be. Countless events, interviews, deals, meetings he would attend where someone would say the wrong thing that rubbed him the wrong way, and Harry was forced to hold his tongue before his brain caught up with him. Usually, he’d give the other person a cold stare, followed by a soft warning, or if they were superior to him somehow, like he was closing in on a deal and really needed the other person on his side, the most he would do was clear his throat and move past the topic as quick as possible.
Very rarely did he ever lash out at someone. The last time he did something close to that was when Jerry insulted Y/N right in her face, like she wasn’t another human with real feelings and emotions. Like her idea wasn’t actually genius and a massive hit when it was sent to Analytics the following morning. Like she was disposable—which in reality, most of his PAs have been, considering they didn’t last more than three months under Harry’s nit-picky demands. But still, that gave the man no right to treat Y/N like she was nothing but garbage. If Harry was being honest, that day, after a long time, he truly felt what it was like to have his blood boiling.
He only knew Y/N for a very short time, but (by whatever fucking miracle) she earned a soft spot in the heart of the otherwise cold and estranged CEO. Maybe it was because she was just sweet—eager to please and well-spoken. Or maybe it was because Harry, no matter how much he prided himself in being emotionless and not the relationship type, was developing a little (fat) crush on her.
Now this took a lot of guts for him to admit, so it shouldn’t be taken lightly. Harry almost never had crushes on people. Sure, he would think they were cute—he wasn’t going to deny a bit of eye-candy every now and then. He could appreciate a good-looking person. But it usually just stopped there. Never running below the surface—always skin-deep. This time, he didn’t know what it was about her (and he was too scared to explore any further) that made him feel borderline obsessive. She consumed his senses; most days, being the first person he looked for when he entered the office building and the last person his mind went to before he went to bed.
Heck, she was starting to show up in his dreams at this point. Most of the time, they were weird—like her and Harry would be riding unicorns into the sunset or fighting alien gorilla warriors (don’t ask him why, he has no idea what goes on in his subconscious). But what was weirder was that she was there, invading his every thought, asleep or conscious, and her fucking scent lingered in his office and then his clothes all the goddamn time, and it was driving him nuts.
He hated feeling this way.
It was like he was in shackles, and the key was in her hands, which she dangled right before his eyes like she was taunting him. And maybe in a way she was; surely she knew the effect she had on him. She was around him for eight hours a day, and she was normally a very observant girl, from what he learned working with her (the first time Y/N brought Harry his morning coffee, he took the lid off before drinking because he hated the sippy-cup they served it in, and ever since that once, he never had to take a lid of himself—she’d serve it to him just how he liked, without a single word about it exchanged between them). There was simply no way she hadn’t caught on to his schoolgirl crush. If not, she’d have to be the most oblivious person in the world.
Nevertheless, he was tired of this helpless feeling. He wanted to take matters into his own hands and get back control of the reigns. Not knowing how things were going or how they would turn out was Harry’s biggest nightmare, and he just couldn’t bear to live like this anymore.
So his solution (which he only gave about eight minutes of thought) was to offer her the arrangement. Hear him out for a second… he thought maybe his itch could finally be scratched if he just fucked her. Surely this whole crush thing was only happening because he wanted her in his bed… surely just having her in that way would make the pain go away. It would be just like a business arrangement—a give and take. In return for her body, he’d spoil her as much as she wanted. Frankly speaking, Harry had money to burn. Mountains of it, just accumulating with no true purpose. And Y/N was a girl with needs. She did tell him she was really desperate for the job because she worked at a shitty underpaying cafe, so she would appreciate this, right?
It was worth a shot, Harry decided. If the conversation didn’t go how he wanted it to, they could pretend like nothing happened and they would move on. Harry would just fuck Sophie instead and maybe that would satiate his needs (he knows it wouldn’t, but he literally cannot accept that right now because he needs this to work out. There was no desire to ever go through with plan B).
And if that kiss in his office meant anything to her, she had to at least give it some thought and consideration.
Typically, Harry was never much of a kisser. He thought it was too intimate—it introduced too many emotions between two people. The kiss was always the central, pivotal moment in almost every rom-com he ever watched. Meeting each other’s lips, tasting each other, holding each other—it always held so much meaning, and if there was one thing Harry avoided in any romantic relationship, it was meaning. He just didn’t have the time or capacity to give it any priority in his life.
But kissing Y/N was different. Maybe it was because he was thinking about doing it for a long time—ever since he first laid eyes on her, if he was being truthful. How could he not? She was pretty, she was smart, she was funny. She was obviously very good at her job. That was why he kissed her. It was more of a token of appreciation. At least that was what he told himself. And when she licked into his mouth and whimpered like that…he just couldn’t think straight. She’d single-handedly sent all of his nerves into haywire—his system was completely fried.
Now what Harry didn’t expect was to see Y/N wrapped up in another man’s arms the second he stepped out of his office to make the said offer to her. And that moment was precisely when he felt all the calmness and composure evaporate from his body within seconds for the first time in his life. He really had no right to feel that way—Y/N wasn’t his. A single kiss didn’t have to mean anything to either of them but fuck—it did to Harry. It meant way more than he would ever admit. He wondered how people could live like this; giving another person the power to control how they felt, how they acted… he never thought he would be in that position.
But here he was, watching the one girl he actually liked kiss her boyfriend, while he stood and watched like a sad puppy. For a second, he was wordless. His brain this time couldn’t catch up with him at all. Probably because this was something Harry seldom experienced… jealousy.
It took the two of them parting and smiling at each other for Harry to finally use his tongue. The boy was stuffing an obnoxious bunch of flowers into Y/N’s hands and was just about to say something (probably) sickeningly sweet to go along with it when Harry’s voice sliced through the air, “What’s this?”
The couple broke apart abruptly and Y/N looked at Harry with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. Her face was bright red, and in any other circumstance, Harry would find that endearing, but right now, he couldn’t think straight. Not when that twat kept his arm around her waist possessively, like he was scared the girl would be snatched away from him. Luckily, they were in Harry’s fucking building, so when Y/N stuttered, “Mr Styles! This… this is my boyfriend, Landon. He was just stopping by t—”
He could say things like: “Let’s keep the theatrics outside the office, please. I need to see you privately. Sheila will escort him out.”
His tone was hard and borderline rude—it wasn’t like him to speak to her like that, when he was normally softer, more understanding. Harry didn’t like being this way, but something in him at that moment just didn’t sit right. And that something was this newfound hot, raging, jealousy.
The boyfriend—Landon—opened his mouth in protest but Harry didn’t stay to hear any of it, turning around and storming back into his office to page Sheila. He could see through the glass Landon and Y/N engaged in a heated conversation, and for a second she felt him looking and locked eyes with him, an unreadable expression on her face. Harry busied himself with his computer, clicking and typing emptily at a random email he pulled up and pretended to read. A few seconds later, Y/N (and that fucking haunting scent she carried) slowly crept into his room.
She was fiddling with her hands. Her face was riddled with guilt—what for, Harry didn’t exactly know. Putting his unreasonableness aside, he could at least admit that she didn’t do anything like, extremely wrong. Harry knew she was in a relationship when he kissed her, he knew she was in a relationship when he decided to ask her to be his sugar baby.
He just didn’t care. Which is an awful thing to admit, he knows, but he had to give her the benefit of the doubt. Y/N wasn’t at fault. And there should be no reason for her to stand before him looking like that; like she’d committed a horrible crime and Harry was going to deliver her a sentence.
Despite all this, Harry remained stoic.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Styles,” She started, “I didn’t know he was coming. I would never had let him come all the way up to my desk like that. And…and I guess I shouldn’t have kissed you either. It was a m—”
“The report from Analytics is ready.” Harry cut her off, schooling his expression into one of professionalism. He was a businessman through and through—he knew how to handle himself (or that’s what he told himself, anyway).
“Hmm?” Y/N appeared genuinely befuddled. She met his gaze. “About your internal suppliers proposal.” Harry said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world—it should’ve been really, since she was the one who sent it off to the team to be evaluated. She must be way out of sorts if she couldn’t keep up with him; normally, she was always two steps ahead.
“Oh, right. How did it, uh— how did it land?”
“Good. You and I are going to present it to the board next month. We need a presentation, opening and closing speeches and stats. This is big, Y/N.” Harry said. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, “Me? I’m going to be presenting to the board?”
“Don’t look so shocked. I’ll be there with you.”
It took a few seconds for the gravity of the situation set in—Harry watched as she went through about five different emotions—confused, scared, worried, happy and then finally, excited. A big smile stretched across her pretty face. “This is huge, Mr Styles. Thank you so much! I won’t let you down,” She exclaimed, akin to a puppy he just told could go for a walk in the park. Her joy was so contagious, Harry almost forgot the inner turmoil eating him alive. Almost.
Instead, he hummed, trying to look nonchalant; like he didn’t want to just grab her and kiss her again, tell her to break up with her boyfriend and become his spoiled plaything. “Mitch should be back next week from Taiwan so he’ll be helping us prepare for this.”
“Thank you,” She said, one more time. Harry felt his heart race as he drank her in—her hands were crossed sincerely behind her back, face tinged slightly pink from adrenaline. Her lips were still graced with a grin and her eyes were sparkling.
She looked beautiful.
“And I’m sorry. About Landon. And… earlier.” Y/N broke him from his trance, taking a step closer to his table. Harry didn’t let his face falter—he didn’t want her to think the kiss meant anything more to him than it did her—call him immature, but it was his first time dealing with emotions like these and he didn’t really know how to navigate them.
“It’s fine. Just keep your personal life and your work life separate. What happened was obviously a mistake.”
The words tasted sour on his tongue as he uttered them out loud; each one stabbing his heart separately. He didn’t believe anything he was saying, yet he said it anway, all thanks to his big fucking ego he couldn’t get over. The impact of them landed right before his eyes, as he noticed Y/N look almost hurt, but she was a smart girl, so she immediately wiped the look off her face. She set her lips in a straight line, “Yes, Mr. Styles.” She said, understandingly.
When Harry murmured, “Good. I’ll send you an email with all the details for this presentation,” And diverted his attention back to his screen, Y/N took that as her que to nod and leave. And just then, with the weight of her presence finally leaving his space, did Harry release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His heart pounded in his chest—a feeling so unfamiliar to him.
He cursed the moment he let his feelings get in the way of this otherwise very professional relationship and forced his fingers to type a real response to this email he was staring at uselessly for the past twenty minutes.
-
From the eight billion souls that graced this place that Y/N was able to call earth, there were about five people in total whose opinions she truly cared about. Who she knew that if they were ever to say anything critical to her, it would never be from hatred or animosity. These five or so people, Y/N fully believed, were the sole people she could trust with her life. Two of them being her mum and dad, one, her baby sister (who had the most brutal opinions, which hit so close to home sometimes, Y/N has to actively remind herself they’re coming with good intentions), her childhood best friend Zita who she only saw every two or three years since she lived on another continent, and Niall.
Y/N wants to say she’s known Niall for years, and they bumped into each other in high school and have been inseparable since—or they were sandpit besties, having grown up together in diapers—but none of that was true.
Even though they might act that way with each other, given they were incredibly close, both emotionally and lowkey physically (because Y/N was just a touch starved thing and Niall was a massive cuddler), anyone who was introduced to both of them could never believe they only met about fourteen months ago when Niall first started working at Bluebird.
He was very reserved when he first started—he barely spoke to anyone, kept to himself, always came on time and he was exceptional at his job. Unlike Y/N, he was actually happy working at Bluebird and he was saving up to get into a good culinary school. This information, of course, Y/N only sucked out of him after about three weeks of quiet, awkward shifts where neither of them talked much and just robotically did their closing tasks like the other didn’t exist.
Well, Y/N did try to talk to him in the beginning—she asked him about uni, his previous work place, tried to make conversation about the weather and how bad traffic was that morning but he would give her half-assed replies, humming here and there, maybe mumbling some words of approval or disapproval but she never got a good conversation.
That was, until one night all the girls from the cafe decided to go get drinks after a crazy closing shift. They were having a crazy week anyway, and Mina was constantly talking about how she finally wanted to get completely fucked out of her mind because she was so tired; so that night, they threw all reason out the window, got in Mina’s little van and drove downtown to a nifty rooftop bar that was all the rage.
About three drinks in, Y/N realised Niall was a fucking lightweight.
That was the first time she saw him utter more than seven words in a row to a single person that was not a customer, and Y/N was completely taken aback. Niall was a different person entirely when he was drunk—when she brings up that pivotal night now, he says it was his alter ego that came out that night and just never left ‘cos it loved sweet Y/N too much.’
He was talkative, flirty, very touchy and very emotional. Y/N went out to let off some steam and have some fun dancing with her girls that night, but she ended up glued to Niall’s side, because apparently she was the only one he trusted when he was ‘vulnerable and broken’ (his words, not hers) listening to him talk about his ex work mates who always made fun of his accent behind his back and made him feel insecure about talking to customers.
Things got out of hand, and Y/N was a very confrontational drunk, so when he told her this, she was right ready to go to his old restaurant and give them all a hiding. And this did wonders for sensitive, touched Niall, who teared up like she pepper sprayed him and held both of her hands to his chest, telling her how she was so special to him, how he always liked her but was too shy to say anything because he didn’t want to be bullied again.
The night took an emotional turn, so they both ended up getting in the same uber and going home and the next Tuesday when they saw each other for the opening shift, things were very much the same. Niall was chatty, witty, funny, touchy and sweet, and after a few weeks of convincing him the others were not going to talk bad about him behind his back, he opened up to the rest of the girls too.
That was precisely how the two of them became best friends, and how Niall wormed his way into Y/N’s heart. He was one of the most treasured people in her life, and he felt the same way too.
Which was why when he found out Landon was in town, he basically spammed Y/N’s phone with texts in all caps yelling at her to bring him ‘round to the cafe so they could “casually” meet and Niall could give his opinion on him—which is currently not that great, if Y/N was being honest.
The first problem was that Landon didn’t really know Y/N was friends with Niall like that… he always got jealous when she had male friends, and if he knew how close the two were, he would literally throw the biggest fit known to mankind. The other problem was that Niall disliked Landon to a great great degree. Y/N told him everything about her relationship—Landon’s conservative nature, his possessiveness, his desire to wait till marriage… and sadly none of that sat right with Niall. From the getgo he’d been telling Y/N she could do so much better than him but Y/N just never had the balls to do anything.
But maybe seeing him in person would change what Niall thought about him…or surely it would make his opinion just a tad bit sweeter.
Niall
im literally dying to see u
Y/N hearted the text and rumpled her lips, tucking her phone into her back pocket as Landon squeezed her hand in his. She was oddly very, very nervous about this—she wasn’t a very good actor either, so she was worried she won’t be able to hide her friendship from Landon that well, but she had to give it her best. He must have sensed the nerves coming off of her like radio signals because he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, “You okay? Who texted you?”
Trying to appear nonchalant, Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, “Just my mum. Hey, this is where I used to work!” She tried to segway into the bit, slowing her step hen she reached the familiar path that lead down to the cafe. Landon raised his brows, “Charming,” he mumbled, eyeing the shop from the outside. His tone was weird and it was giving back-handed, but at this point Y/N was so used to his little gestures she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get a coffee, yeah? I need to use the toilet anyway.”
“Can’t we just go down to the mall? There’s this game you can only get at PopMart and they only have one—”
“Landon. Please,” Y/N tried to reason with him. She gave him her best ‘bored and over-it look’ and didn’t bother hearing his dumb protests before she tugged his arm into the cafe. The familiar scent of cinnamon chai and fresh croissants invaded her senses, the comforting blue and white stripped wallpaper and oak seating making her feel right at home. She spent so many hours holed up in here just dreading to leave, she never really got the chance to have a good look and admire it for what it was.
From behind the counter she noticed Niall’s familiar frame—his back was turned to them while he whisked a drink, and Y/N had to use the little bell by the tip jar to get his attention. When she did, he gave her a small, knowing smile.
So far, so good.
“Y/N! We haven’t seen you for ages!” He exclaimed, recognition glinting in his eyes. Y/N gave him a grin, “Niall, hey, how are you?” Her tone was slightly rehearsed, but she hoped Landon wouldn’t notice how robotic she sounded to herself.
“Great, thanks, how are you? Is this your boyfriend?”
Of course that’s what he says.
Niall wasted no time—getting right down into the dirty business. This is what he was pining after her for, so he had to get his money’s worth. Y/N gave him a pinched look—one that said “I’m going to kill you the second I get the chance too” and turned to Landon, who was standing there silently like he didn’t realise there was a conversation happening.
“Oh, yeah, this is Landon. Landon, this is Niall. We used to work together.” She was anxious as she introduced them, looking between the two with worried eyes. Niall gave her a quick look, his eyebrows dipping just for a fraction of a second. “I can tell, Y/N,” Landon started, holding his hand out for Niall to shake, “Nice to see ya, man.”
Niall gave him a polite smile and shook his hand over the counter. Y/N was watching him closely, trying to pick up on any more hints about what he thought but he was doing a good job at schooling his expressions. “You too. So, are you just visiting?”
“Yup.” Landon nodded.
He didn’t say anything further, apparently ending the interaction right then and there. Just like Y/N expected (but hoped didn’t actually happen), the air turned awkward as her and Niall had a silent conversation with their eyes. Right off the bat, it wasn’t hard to decipher he wasn’t vibing with whatever was going on with Landon. “Can I… get you guys anything?” He spoke up, lips pressed in a thin line. Landon narrowed his eyes as he read the menu behind the counter, “Uhh… I’ll have a flat white, please. Y/N?”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Skim milk for her.”
Great. This was going just swimmingly.
Y/N was used to Landon’s rude comments but obviously Niall wasn’t, and he didn’t take this one well when his eyebrows dipped angrily. He looked right about to pop off at Landon when Y/N suddenly spoke up, “Yes! Skim milk for me. You know me, Niall.”
She gave him a look, her pupils wide and mouth agape. Niall appeared moments from jumping over the counter and pouncing on Landon, but hopefully Y/N’s pleading gaze would hold him back.
“Coming right up.”
His tone was dry and to the point. Y/N ended up paying and Landon took a seat down the far end of the store, and Y/N took the opportunity to pretend to slip away to the bathroom when she actually just wanted to talk to Niall. He didn’t waste any time seeking her out—right as Y/N turned the corner past the kitchen door, Niall wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her inside the small, quiet toilet.
“Who the fuck is this fucking guy, Y/N?” He whisper-yelled. He looked genuinely disturbed—concern overcoming his features as he searchd her face frantically, “Like I knew your boyfriend was fucked but this is something else. This is some Jake Gyllenhal from All Too Well type shit.”
Y/N sighed. Deep down, she knew he was right, and she knew he was coming from a good place. Maybe this is exactly what she needed to take that step she’d been wanting to take for so long. Maybe this will finally push her over the edge and she will break up with Landon like she’s been wanting to for the longest time now.
“I know. I know, he’s terrible.”
“Terrible? He’s like, the worst!”
“I’m going to break up with him.” She said, finally.
Niall looked relieved.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Because I happen to know of a hot CEO who’s pining after you—who you’ve kissed, by the way—who would jump at the opp—”
“This isn’t about Harry,” Y/N replied. This was a lie. Even if it wasn’t completely about him, it had a lot to do with him, anyway. A huge part of the reason she doesn’t feel the same way about Landon is because of that kiss with Harry… and the dinner… she hadn’t felt so cared for and so heard in such a long time.
“You keep telling yourself that.”
After that, Y/N’s phone began buzzing, and when she looked it was Landon wondering what was taking her so long, followed by him cursing her ex-workplace because they took ages to get their drinks. Y/N and Niall scurried away and apart. He busied himself with brewing coffee while Y/N took a seat across an angry Landon. Every now and then her and Niall would lock eyes and she could only read the disappointment in his expression.
When they get their drinks and she bid a quiet goodbye to Niall, Landon leaned down and attempted to whisper in hear, but she’s sure at least four people (including Niall) heard what he had to say.
“What a fucking weirdo. You sure he isn’t gay or something?”
Something told Y/N this breakup was going to take a lot out of her.
-
Being back at the office gave Y/N the reprieve she desperately needed, after being attached to the hip with Landon the entire weekend. Having her head down and fingers busy typing away on her monitors was her favorite way to drown out reality and enter into workmode, where she could exist on another plane entirely. Her days were always packed—starting off with grabbing Harry’s coffee and muffin, going over his day and moving things around if needed, replying to his emails, taking his calls, scheduling flights, meetings, appointments—the lot.
When Y/N came in the following Monday, she thought things would be exactly like that. Business as usual. But when she greeted Harry with a smile on her face and a styrofoam cup with no lid wrapped between her fingers, she could immediately sense the vibe was off.
She noticed it in the way he avoided making eye contact with her, which usually was something he used to his advantage, knowing it made people bend and twist to his every command. Y/N tried to talk to him about swapping a meeting he had with someone for a dentist appointment which he was putting off for the past two weeks but even then his replies were minimal, and he basically told her to do whatever she thought fit as long as she kept him in the loop.
Which was so unlike Harry. He was a control-freak through and through—Y/N wasn’t allowed to move a single thing on his calendar without having at least a ten minute conversation with him but he was being weird so Y/N just didn’t say anything. And maybe she was being oversensitive and reading into the situation too much, but it hurt when he didn’t even tell her he was leaving when he went to get his lunch (which he didn’t tell Y/N to do for him like he normally did, by the way—another one of his weird antics of the day where he did whatever he pleased like she didn’t exist solely for his convenience).
Despite everything she busied herself with working on the board presentation due next month. The opportunity was a once in a lifetime one, and Y/N, when she first started at Grapejuice never thought she would be doing this. She was exchanging countless messages and emails with both Mitch and Harry, passing around drafts of the presentation and speeches she was responsible for, but nothing was sitting right. Maybe it was because of Harry’s limited input—he resorted to mainly reacting to all the texts with thumbs up or thumbs down and Y/N was going nuts tying to decipher his intentions.
Things only got worse when during a quiet moment on Wednesday while Harry was in a meeting, Y/N went down to the communal kitchen to make herself a hot drink. The day was bringing on a headache, and Y/N’s thoughts bounced from work, to Harry’s behaviour, to having to go back home to Landon, and to Niall’s constant texts asking if she’d broken up with him yet and if not, when she was planning to do it. So it was safe to say that Y/N was in severe need of a quick break.
She walked in to find Logan waiting by the microwave, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, though he shut it and put it in his pocket when he saw her coming, “Y/N, hey.”
Y/N gave him a tired smile and grabbed her favorite yellow mug and settled it under the Nespresso, “Hey Logan, how are you?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but you’re always so busy…”
He paused, interrupted by the microwave beeping. Y/N waited curiously to hear what he had to say as he turned to open the door and carefully pulled out a bowl of what looked and smelled like cottage-cheese pasta. He set it down on the counter to cool, “You were saying?” Y/N reminded him.
“Are you alright?”
Her brows dipped. Why would he ask her this? Did she look not alright?
“It’s just… Sarah told Becca who told Mika who told me that apparently your boyfriend came to surprise you at your desk and Mr. Styles called security on him and was like… jealous?”
“What?”
“No, it’s like…it’s not like that, like I don’t mean to worry you or like be a tattletale—I’m genuinely concerned, like are you alright? You…you seem a bit stressed and I don’t know if Mr. Styles is maybe taking something out on you, he’s been on edge all we—”
“Please stop talking.”
Her heart was near racing out of her chest.
If there was one thing Y/N hated the most in the world, it was being talked about behind her back—be it good or bad, she just hated the thought of being discussed while she wasn’t there to know how she was being perceived… and now knowing that technically the whole office knew of Landon and Y/N and Harry’s little performance last week… Y/N couldn’t do this right now.
“I’m sorry, hey, I don’t mean this in like a bad way, I’m only concerned.”
“I’m a grown woman, Logan, I can look after myself. Thanks for your concern, but I don’t need it right now,” With that, she left her cup, forgotten on the Nespresso and briskly made her way back to her desk. Maybe her tone was slightly rude, but she couldn’t find it in herself in that moment to care—there were a million things racing through her mind and neither of them were reasonable. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight enough to have a proper talk with Harry, but she felt like if she didn’t do it now, she’d never find the right time again. She didn’t want to loose her momentum.
Thankfully, the client he was meeting with was stepping out of his office the same time Y/N stormed in. She gave him what she thought was a polite smile but she probably just looked crazy as she whizzed past him and entered Harry’s office. Clicking the lock shut, she attempted to gather the newfound courage she discovered to say the words she was memorizing the whole way up here.
“Y/N? What’s wrong?”
He was standing this time, rummaging through his file drawer probably because he had too much of an ego to call for Y/N and have her locate what he was looking for. Concern overcame his features as he turned to face her fully.
Y/N cut right to the chase. “Why are you punishing me?”
“What?”
She took a step closer. It was a challenge, keeping her emotions and thoughts in check but Y/N was a professional—she could maintain herself, especially when it came down to her self-respect. “You’re—you’re ignoring me, you’re not replying to me in full sentences, I’m trying to get this presentation sorted and you’re literally blowing me off. You won’t look me in the eye and you won’t treat me like I exist so I’m just wondering, Harry—Mr. Styles, why are you punishing me?”
Harry sighed. Y/N noticed as regret and confusion clouded his eyes. She would give anything just to glimpse into his mind and know even a drop of what he was truly thinking instead of trying to pick apart his facial cues.
“That’s not… that’s not true.”
“It fucking is! You’re being so weird it’s thrown me completely! I don’t kno—”
“That’s not what’s happening. I’m not punishing you, Y/N. At least, I don’t mean to.”
He set down the file he was holding and went to lean against his massive oak desk. She noticed how he fidgeted—cracked a knuckle and ran his thumb against the side of his nose like he did when he was nervous (which he seldom was, but Y/N observed him a lot and kept track of all his little quirks, and this was one she thought was particularly adorable but she would never admit that).
“Well it sure as hell doesn’t feel like that.” Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest, “Listen, I don’t know what personal vendetta you’ve got against me—I can handle a moody boss, but when people start noticing and gossiping about it—that’s when it becomes a real problem.”
“Gossiping? Who’s gossiping?”
“That doesn’t matter! Just…just tell me what I did so I can apologise and we can go back to normal. Was it the kiss? Was it Landon? Are you mad I did—”
“Stop that.”
“---Then what is it, Mr. Styles!?”
“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet—Y/N barely heard them over the sound of her racing heart.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Y/N,” He started, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being weird and I’m sorry for not replying to you properly when you ask about the presentation. I’m sorry people have been talking and I…I’m sorry for kissing you. That was a boundary I should never have crossed. This isn’t your fault. None of it is.”
Pretending like his words didn’t impale her like a steel plated sword, Y/N swallowed the knot in her throat. She could feel her own face get red hot with anger and adrenaline. She knew herself the kiss was a mistake but hearing him say it somehow hurt even more than she thought it would. Nevertheless, at least his apology soothed her nerves a little bit. At least know she knew he wasn’t mad at her per se… he seemed only frustrated with the situation, but Y/N didn’t blame him for that. She was sort of in the same boat.
“I crossed that line with you. I’m not completely innocent, Mr. Styles, but you can’t punish me for a crime we both commited.”
“Yeah. I was being unfair to you, and I’m sorry for that.” Y/N could tell the words were tough for him to say. He looked like he was actually in pain—a pinched expression on his face and a big furrow in his brows. She could only imagine what it was like for him; a wealthy CEO having to apologise to his very broke PA for his behaviour. The power dynamics were clearly imbalanced but Y/N admired how he didn’t pay it any mind and apologised to her with what she could only call sincerity.
There were a few seconds of silence as they both watched each other—the slight rise and fall of Y/N’s chest falling in sync with Harry’s own breathing. There were so many words left unsaid; sheathed in the heavy air of his office, never to see the light of day. If only either of them had the slightest bit of courage, and the storm in both their hearts could be tamed.
Alas, they remained standing quietly, both too afraid to say how they truly felt.
“We’ll go over your presentation at four. I can help you however you need.” Harry finally spoke up.
Y/N tried to smile, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. She knew there was more she wanted to say but she just couldn’t figure out what and how to do it. It was like her heart was in staccato—unable to form a single, coherent thought.
“Right. Thanks.”
With that, Harry gave Y/N a curt nod which she took as her cue to leave the heated room. As much as she was glad the conversation was over and out in the open, she couldn’t help but replay both his and Logan’s words in her head over and over again. The bit about Harry being jealous, him admitting to acting weird and saying the kiss was a mistake… God, she felt like such an idiot. This is why the number one rule when having a corporate job was to never mix business and pleasure. Her life was a whirlwind of bad choices and endless drama due to one fucking mistake she made.
Sighing, she settled at her desk to find her forgotten yellow mug sitting by her laptop. The cup was still warm, so whoever left it there must have just missed her—and next to it was a note on a pink post-it.
sorry
- L
She crumpled up the piece of paper and got back to work.
-
The next morning, Y/N was up earlier than usual.
She wasn’t in much of a hurry to get to work anyway, considering Harry had a conference to attend at 9AM with Mitch where despite her asking a million times if they needed her to come, Mitch insisted he could sub her just fine. They didn’t need a third person to tag along, seeing as they were only gone for about two hours before arriving back at Grapejuice for the monthly Senior Leadership Meeting. All this meant she could take her time getting ready in the morning, maybe even have a better breakfast than a banana and a granola bar and even go for a jog if she could manage it.
Thankfully, Landon was still fast asleep when she crept out of the house at six in the morning with her running gear on and her headphones tucked into her shorts. Dealing with him was something she just couldn’t do at the moment—there was so much stuff on her plate—so much shit she needed to sort through before she could think about her current relationship and what would become of it.
She started off her jog while on the phone with Niall, who yapped her ear off and begged her to get the breakup over and done with. Y/N filled him in on the events from yesterday and everything that went on between her and Logan and then her and Harry. Of course, the only thing Niall deduced from the whole conversation was that Y/N and Harry were fated soulmates and this was the universes’ way of bringing them together—create tension between her and Landon, add a sprinkle of jealousy rumors and then—bam, you’ve got yourself a perfect love story.
What was funny was that Niall sincerely believed everything he was saying was true, and somehow he even got poor Y/N thinking he might have a point. But then she would hold that thought right where she caught it and reel herself back in—she was living a real life. This wasn’t a book or a movie… no one sat writing her plot and making sure everything fell into place perfectly. If that were true, surely things wouldn’t be as hard as they were for her.
The rest of her jog was uneventful apart from her stopping to admire a pair of swans and then take a picture of the sunrise. By the time she was home it was only forty past, so she still had ages to go before she had to get ready for work.
However, her steps slowed outside her door when she noticed a large parcel laying on her welcome mat. It was wrapped up with white twine and the paper was that satisfying material she only saw in expensive gift stores.
Confused, she picked it up, only to realise it was surprisingly lighter than she expected. There was no note or anything—no sort of ID with her address on it, or hint where it came from which puzzled her even further. She silently snuck into the house and noticed that Landon was still asleep—at least she wouldn’t have to deal with his thousand questions about the mysterious parcel, the answers to which even she did not have.
She couldn’t remember having ordered anything online in the past few weeks… and she hadn’t signed up to any of those monthly subscriptions which delivered food or makeup or whatnot to her doorstep every couple of weeks, so she was truly befuddled as to what was inside it.
Carefully she took a small knife and made a cut along the seams of the parcel. She didn’t know what was inside and she didn’t want to risk breaking it or tearing it just in case she would have to return it to the post office, since she was 99% sure this was probably just like a mistaken delivery or something. Slowly, she undid the intricate folds of the paper.
Under the wrapping was a white card, which was tucked into the middle of a pool of silky, red fabric. Y/N’s eyes nearly buldged out of her eyeballs. The garment was smooth beneath her fingers—like water from the stillest river. Merely feeling it beneath her skin told her it probably cost more than her whole month’s worth of wages, and then some.
She turned the note over first to try and get a hint about what it was and where it came from.
I hope you can forgive me.
H.
Y/N didn’t have to read it twice to understand what exactly was going on here. Within seconds, everything was clear as day to her—this parcel was from Harry and the dress was some sort of token of apology… which shouldn’t make Y/N feel the way it was currently making her feel.
This was almost like a bribe.
He was buying an apology from her… but it just didn’t feel like that. She knew that was how she should feel… but she didn’t. She liked this. It made her feel wanted—like Niall was right and Harry truly was pining after her. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself but this had to be way out of PA and boss relationship bounds, right? Surely this was rule number two in the PA and boss relationship handbook—Don’t buy your PA expensive gifts to try and win her over after an argument.
Her heart and brain were entangled in a web of chaos and bewilderment—Like most things in her life as of recently, this made no sense to Y/N. Yet, she still set the card down and lifted the garment out of the box.
An audible gasp escaped her parted lips.
It was a long, floor-length dress with a slit that went all the way up her right leg to mid-thigh. The fabric was just as she felt it—silky and dreamy; something which could only be produced in the bestest of factories using the richest of materials. It had a drapey, heart-shaped neckline and thin spaghetti straps that would sit delicately on her collarbones. Y/N could already picture herself wearing it, with her hair done up and jewellery to go with it… the dress looked so out of place at her small little flat she was almost embarrassed just to be holding it up.
She was snapped out of her daydreams when she heard shuffling coming from inside her bedroom, followed by a call of her name. “Y/N! Are y’still home? Can you bring me a coffee, cupcake?” Landon was awake. Y/N tried not to roll her eyes to herself as she responded, telling him she would be right there with him.
She was unable to hide her glee, though, having to bite her lip to prevent her mouth from spreading into the biggest smile ever. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever gotten her—she should want to give it back to him—want to tell him it wasn’t necessary; but the thought surprisingly never occurred to her. Somehow she believed she really earned this, after what the man had put her through the past week and a half.
Silently, she put the dress and note back under the wrapping paper and slid it in the cabinet over her fridge where she knew Landon would never look. This would have to be her little secret—if Landon found out, he would literally flip his shit, and Y/N couldn’t afford another one of his mental breakdowns. So, she kept her excitement carefully tucked away behind a giddy grin and put a pot of coffee on.
Somehow, work had just become the most exciting part of her day.
-
When Harry was picking out what dress to buy for Y/N from the YSL website, even he wasn’t quite sure what he was thinking.
Harry was a grown, experienced man—he had seen his fair share of the world, so he knew exactly what the whole ordeal looked like—like he was trying to bribe her into forgiving him. Like he was trying to buy his way out of the situation he found himself in. This should have rubbed him in the wrong way…it should have stopped him from entering his card details on the website and paying an extra forty dollars for gift wrapping and an extra two hundred dollars for overnight delivery.
But it didn’t. It was like his fingers moved on their own accord when he purchased the item and wrote out the small note he wanted her to have. The man could only hope Y/N didn’t take his gesture the wrong way, though he was unsure if there was any other way to take it. He hoped she saw where he was coming from; hoped she didn’t get offended and send the parcel right back to the post shop.
His doubts were eased when he came into work that same afternoon after the conference him and Mitch had attended and Y/N seemed painfully normal. Maybe even a bit happy, if Harry’s own eyes weren’t betraying him. She was chippier than usual—she looked nicer today as well, sporting one of Harry’s favorite items on her which was the matching pink skirt and blazer set she wore very rarely. Her hair was down and her cheeks matched the shade of her lapels…
She was always very beautiful, but today she was pretty.
Most of the day today comprised of her, Mitch and Harry locked up in his office brainstorming ideas, and fuck, he was finding it hard to concentrate on anything apart from her scent which quite literally invaded all of his senses. She was driving him nuts and he was sure she had no idea of it. The only time either her or Harry acknowledged the present he sent her that morning was when Mitch excused himself to take a call, and they were both left alone in Harry’s office.
There were a few moments of just the tapping of their keyboards—no words exchanged between the two. Harry could practically hear her thoughts racing as she occasionally looked at him over her screen, biting her lip like she was contemplating when to say something and how to say it. He saw her resolve snap right before him as she gently folded her laptop slightly and spoke quietly, “Thank you. For the dress.”
Having not prepared for a situation akin to this at all, for a moment, Harry was at a loss for words. It took him a second to recollect himself, but when he did, he cleared his throat and met her eyes.
“T’was my pleasure.”
As if on cue, Mitch walked in right after and the moment was gone, both Harry and Y/N staring intently at their computers like the answer to the universe was just sent to them and they were the last humans left to decipher it.
“What’d I miss?” Mitch asked, clapping his hands together.
Both Harry and Y/N replied in unison: “Nothing.”
The rest of the week was spent exactly like that—Harry, Mitch and Y/N working closely together and spending majority of the day just rewriting speeches, researching and looking at different variations of bar graphs, pie charts and flow charts. As much as he loved drowning himself in his work (and being trapped in a room with Y/N (and Mitch, he guesses)), the presentation was taking a lot from him—sure he’d presented to the board heaps of times before, but this time was different—this time, the change was massive. Switching to internal suppliers like Y/N suggested would flip the whole corporation upside down, so it was very important that everything they said had a purpose and contributed meaningfully.
At the end of the day, Harry was human, though, and humans needed breaks. He had to convince his mind and body that there was a life outside the four walls of his office and he was capable of thinking about other things apart from how many charts was too many charts and what color coding looked serious enough to be in a presentation this big.
So, Harry and Mitch, after one drawn out, draining Friday spent fretting over the closing speech which he was responsible to deliver, decided to go out and get some drinks to ease their nerves. The bar they went to was one which was quite popular in the city—often he would see students gathered there in bunches on the weekends, making noise and dancing on the makeshift dancefloor, but the drinks were good and the music was nice so Harry didn’t pay them much mind.
They went after work so they dressed down by ridding their blazers and untucking their shirts so they didn’t look out of place. Harry rolled his sleeves up to his forearm, which he now rested on the table casually as he nursed a drink between his ringed fingers. Conversation with Mitch was always easy—he’d known the guy for most of his life, having basically grown up with him. They went to the same high school and the same college—they were roommates back then, and living in such proximity really tells you a lot about the other person even if you didn’t ask for it.
He liked Mitch, though. He was smart in all his classes and a little bit quiet but Harry wasn’t bothered by that. He liked a bit of peace and silence, and besides, if he ever did want to get Mitch chatty, all he had to do was light a blunt and the rest was history. Of course, they haven’t smoked in ages now but they frequented the occasional drink or two.
The night was going just as they had planned. Harry got to think about something else since Mitch went on a spiel about this girl he was seeing who he wasn’t sure if she was as into him as he was her. Harry thought he gave pretty good relationship advice so he spewed out some wise words for Mitch—some bull that he didn’t even lowkey believe but people dug whatever he said so it was fine. Harry wouldn’t know if any of his relationship advice was any good himself, since he never had to use it for his own advantage.
But maybe he could put it to good use now, Harry thinks, when he noticed a special someone walking into the same fucking bar he was in.
It genuinely felt like he couldn’t escape her. She was always on his mind, constantly, even when he didn’t think she needed to be; she was always around at work with her sweet fucking voice and tantalizing perfume; she was in his dreams, for God’s sake, and now she was here. On the arm of that fucking cunt she called her boyfriend.
Harry hated that guy. He hated the way he waltzed in with a big smile on his face, like he was rubbing it in every guys face that he had the prettiest girl in the world by his side. He hated the way he held on to her, so possessively that his knuckles were basically white from his grip. And he hated the way he could do things Harry couldn’t, like kiss her on top of her head when she wasn’t noticing as they seated at a small booth on the far end of the bar.
Mitch must have noticed too because he pointed her out, “Isn’t that Y/N? Who’s she with?” He muttered the last bit to himself mostly as he looked at Harry with question. Harry didn’t meet his eyes, finding the ice swimming in his glass eons more interesting than what was going on, “Her boyfriend.”
“How do you know that?”
“He came in last week.”
Mitch made a long sound, like he just realised something, “Oooh. That’s the boyfriend.”
Harry cleared his throat, “Yeah. Now what’s this about Sarah being in a band? How’d you even meet her?”
He changed the topic swiftly, not wanting to think about or look at Y/N and Landon sitting all cute and cuddly in the bar right in his eyeline. The universe must be testing him or some shit, because Harry’s blood was quite literally boiling in his veins. He cursed himself for his fucking luck—the one time he tried to come out and get his mind off things and the one girl he couldn’t stop thinking about walked right in like she owned the place.
About half an hour passed of Harry and Mitch discussing Sarah and then Harry’s whole situation with Sophie when he saw Y/N get up out of her booth and walk towards the restrooms. She had to go past him for that, and as she did, not only did Harry get a whiff of her scent (which made him feel like a fucking dog, the way he was ready to roll over for her just to get another one) but she made eye contact with him. She was stunned at first, but then quickly masked her emotions with a small smile as she acknowledged both Harry and Mitch.
The moment stole the breath from Harry’s lungs, and he felt like he was living in a telenovella with how he was romanticising every interaction with her. He had to get out and get some air—the bar was beginning to get suffocating and he felt like he was trapped in a room and was being tortured by being forced to watch Y/N and Landon act like they were all in love and shit.
So, he softly excused himself from Mitch and made his way outside. Mitch thankfully didn’t suspect anything, since he himself could see how Harry’s face was a bit red. He probably thought it was the drinks and warm atmosphere that drove him outside but that worked perfectly fine in Harry’s favor. Even though apparently people were talking about him and Y/N in the office, he didn’t need Mitch butting in as well, and querying Harry about whether the gossip had any substance to it.
The night air had a chill that nipped at his already rosey cheeks. To his far right stood a bouncer who leaned against the wall and smoked a cigarette. Harry pulled his phone out to see if he could distract his mind but it was full of work emails he had to reply to and reminders he set for all his deadlines. He scrolled mindlessly through Instagram and liked a story his sister posted of a bagel spot she was trying and it actually looked really good—he swiped up to reply and ask where she got i—
“You fucking pervert.”
Harry heard the words first and then saw the fist flying in his direction but he didn’t react fast enough to miss it. A loud, nasty thwack sound erupted from his nose as Landon’s fist collided with it, making Harry’s head go back and hit the brick wall he was up against. For a second he was completely disorientated. His phone slipped from his hand and his fingers came up to swipe beneath his nostrils where they came back with blood.
The fucker just punched him right in the fucking face.
Harry was going to loose his shit. He practically saw red clouding his vision as Landon geared up for another hit, “You wanna stare at my girlfriend’s ass you fuckface?” All reason flew out of the window and Harry was now blinded by anger and his ego which wouldn’t let him go down without a fight. He didn’t waste another second in delivering a strike to his jaw which resulted in a gnarly crack sound.
Landon fell back on his butt and looked at Harry with wide eyes. The sight was one he would have laughed at if blood wasn’t streaming down his nose. He resembed a spanish fighter bull the way he charged towards Harry, probably to try and tackle him to the ground but the burly bouncer who stood a few metres away ran over and grabbed Landon before he could do anything.
At the same time, he could hear Y/N calling Landon’s name until she eventually stepped out as well. Her mouth fell open in shock as she took in the morbid sight before her. She couldn’t settle on who she wanted to look at—Harry, with blood covering the bottom half of his face, or Landon, who was thrashing in the arms of the bouncer and yelling profanities at the man. The bouncer had to drag him away and Y/N looked like she was at a loss for words.
“What the fuck did you do?” She asked Harry, voice cold. There were tears in her waterline as she traced his features with her soft gaze.
“He punched me.”
Harry sounded unrecognizable to himself. It felt like his voice was coming from somewhere outside of his body and he couldn’t locate from where. He called after her when she stormed off in the same direction as the bouncer and Landon. Harry wanted to go after her and explain what happened because he couldn’t bear the thought that she might be angry with him, but he was stopped in his tracks when he heard Mitch call his name.
He turned to face his concerned friend. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Harry sniffled. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”
–
When Y/N and Landon decided to go out, she didn’t think her night would end up like this.
Her feet were pounding against the pavement as she ran after where the bouncer was hauling Landon out of the bar and on the sidewalk. Her boyfriend (embarrasing, she knows) was screaming and cussing, some directed towards the bouncer and most directed towards Harry (she has no idea why). Although Harry looked really hurt with the blood dripping down his nose, Landon looked worse; he had a massive bruise already forming on his jaw and his mouth was bleeding—when he parted his lips to talk, she saw how the blood smeared across his teeth.
The bouncer ended up dropping him on the footpath a ways from the bar, warning him that he wasn’t allowed back inside under any circumstances. Y/N finally caught up to them and stood towering over Landon, who was sprawled out on the ground like an upside down insect. “Y/N, baby…” He coughed.
“What was that?” Y/N asked, trying to keep her voice cool and collected even though she was anything but. She was fucking angry but she didn’t say anything just in case Landon tried to bend the truth into something he thought she wanted to hear.
“T’was your boss… he’s a fucking pervert,” He paused to spit out a glob of blood and saliva, “He kept looking at you like you were a piece of meat.”
“So you hit him? You assaulted my boss because he smiled at me?”
When he spoke, his words were slurring together, signalling he was not in the right state of mind at all. He was drinking a lot inside as well, so to some extent Y/N should have anticipated this. “Why are you getting mad at me!?” He yelled, trying to get up on his feet, “D’you wanna fuck him too, is that what this is about?”
Y/N scoffed in disbelief, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Landon, and I suggest you stop before you say something you can’t take back.” The wind whipped her hair around her face and Y/N looked up to see clouds forming, foreshadowing the rain she clocked when she checked the weather app earlier today.
Landon laughed dryly, “I fucking knew it. You want to fuck your rich boss. That’s why you’re always begging me to have sex like the horny bitch you a—”
Before he could finish the end of that horrific sentence, Y/N slapped him across the face. The impact was hard enough that he fell back against the pavement again and cussed her out. In that moment, Y/N felt no love or remorse or regret or anything towards the piece of shit lying at her feet before him. He was an awful man and she knew it from the start—it only hurt that it took her so long to do something about it.
“You’re disgusting. Don’t come back to my house and don’t fucking call me again. We are done.”
With that, she turned and began to walk away. Behind her, she could still hear him yelling, “At least get me a fucking Uber you dumb bitch!”
But she ignored him and crossed her arms across her chest. The bar wasn’t far from the train station which she could take home so she headed in that direction. She would have called herself a ride but her phone was dead and besides, her head was a fucking mess of thoughts and emotions and her vision was blurry with tears which pooled in her waterline. Y/N was a smart and capable girl; she knew his derogatory words had no real meaning or anything, but she still let them get to her. He hit her right where it hurts; targeting her self worth and her self respect because he knew she treasured both those things the most.
To dramatise the moment even further, droplets of rain began falling from the sky and drenching her clothes. It was already cold out and the rain had no reason to hold back—it hit her with full force, each tiny drop felt like pinpricks on her heated skin. Her teeth began chattering as the rain and her tears mixed and trailed down her face.
She was just about to let it all out and ugly cry when a familiar sleek, black car rolled up right next to where she was walking. She slowed her step as it began following her gait and stopped when the window rolled down on the passenger side. “Let me drop you home, please.” It was Harry, and his tone was soft and his car was probably nice and warm and soft too. Y/N didn’t have it in her to put up any more of a fight—the night had taken too much out of the poor girl.
Wordlessly, she pulled the door open and sat inside. Harry already had the seat warmers on and the heater was on blast, granting her comfort and solace. His car smelled nice and there was low music crooning through the speakers. “I’m sorry about what happened,” He started, putting the car into gear as he began to drive. ‘I’m sorry’ seemed to be the only thing people were saying to her as of recent and it was kind of making her go crazy. She just wanted things to be normal again. When her life became such a mess, Y/N had no idea.
“I’m the one who needs to be apologising. My boyfriend was the one who assaulted you. Well, ex-boyfriend now,” She muttered, running her hands over her face. Harry looked like his ears chirped up, eyebrows raised as he turned to glance at her, “You broke up?”
“Five minutes ago, yes.”
Harry hummed, turning his blinker on to change lanes, “I would say I’m sorry about that too but I don’t think I am.”
Y/N had to giggle at that, swiping a thumb beneath her eye as she wiped a tear, “Yeah, don’t be. It was a long time coming.” She took in his side profile—he was beautiful, like he always was—the moon casting light over half of his face as he stared intently at the road ahead. He was toying with his bottom lip with his left hand and driving with his other, and she noticed the spot beneath his nose was clear—he wasn’t bleeding anymore.
“How’s your face?”
“He didn’t do much damage,” Harry said, biting back a grin. He looked at her to find her gaze already set on him and the gesture made Y/N blush and look away. “That’s good.”
The rest of the ride was full of silence and stolen glances. Having been to Y/N’s house before, Harry drove without any assistance which was impressive since he’d only ever been there once. Though no words were said aloud, her mind was still racing. Every now and then a tear would fall from her eye and Y/N would try to mask it though she didn’t think she was doing a very good job. She wasn’t upset about loosing Landon, if she was being honest… It was his words that kept stabbing her in the heart over and over again.
She kept thinking about what he said and wondered if any of it was true—she knew deep down she was worth so much more than what he thought, but he’d planted an annoying seed of doubt in her heart and she was unable to dig it up and chuck it away.
They stopped after the fifth song ended, like it was waiting for the car to match its tempo. Y/N didn’t want to leave the confines of his car. She knew the thought was weird and borderline pathetic, but she’d just been through a messy breakup and she just wanted someone to talk to and lean her shoulder on, and the rational part told her that Harry was 100% the worst person for this (he was her boss, lest she forget) but the irrational side (the one she preferred) wanted to ask him up to her house for a slumber party of some sorts where he could comfort her all night long.
Sadly the former part of her won this particular argument and Y/N turned towards Harry with a sad expression, “Thank you for the ride. You didn’t have to do this.”
Harry had his lip between his teeth and he watched her earnestly. She probably looked a mess with her red-rimmed eyes and mascara streaking down her cheeks so she got a little insecure when he looked too long and turned her own gaze away.
“I’d do it a hundred times over if I had to.”
His words brought on a fresh wave of tears—why did he have to be so thoughtful and perfect and say exactly the right thing at the right time, Y/N didn’t understand. He was so exceptional, Y/N often reminded herself how lucky she was to be working with him in such close proximity everyday. However, she didn’t let those tears fall, setting up an imaginary dam to hold them back. Instead, she gave in to her irrational side and leaned over the console to give him a hug.
Her clothes were drenched and she was very cold, so the hug couldn’t have been as nice as she wanted it to be but she paid that thought no mind, because Harry was hugging her back. His massive arms came up around her shoulders which he pressed to himself, tucking her cold nose into the warmth of his neck. His scent was intoxicating—some cologne that she had to somehow find so she could spray it on her pillows because the comfort it was bringing her right now was out of this world.
When they broke apart she gave him another smile and muttered a small thanks before finally leaving his car. Harry stayed parked by her house until she was safe inside and her lock clicked shut and when she heard him drive off, the dam broke and all her feelings came gushing out like a fucking tsunami.
–
The coming Sunday, Y/N was swaddled beneath her duvet with Niall consoling her on facetime.
The night of the breakup, he was the first person she called when she got home and gathered herself enough to charge her phone and dial someone. Within twenty minutes, he was at her house with a tub of ice cream and two sets of clothes, already anticipating that he might have to stay a while to get the girl on the right track. They spent the next thirty-six hours watching comfort films, then Y/N would vent about her feelings, then Niall would try to come up with a solution to her problems (which always resulted in ‘fuck Harry’) then she would nap her tiredness away.
Turns out crying all the time really tuckered someone out, especially when the reason to cry was so fucking brutal. When Y/N told Niall about the shit Landon was saying, he was ready to find his ass and kick him to the curb a second time. Even repeating them to her best friend had her choking up, and it took a lot of reassurance from him to convince her even a little bit that what he was saying had no semblance of truth to it—it all came from a place of anger and hatred.
Those hours spent tucked into Niall’s side were what finally got Y/N out of bed and doing shit like cleaning her house and doing her laundry which she’d been putting off for the longest time now. Today, she planned on going to get some groceries when he called her just to check in but Y/N was doing heaps better so he didn’t seem too worried. Though he did offer to come over again, Y/N politely declined because she didn’t want him to get in trouble at work by calling out so much—that too at her expense.
So, she bid him goodbye and let him get back to his shift when the sound of her doorbell ringing forced her to drag herself out of bed. She checked through the peephole but no one stood outside, so she swung open the door. On her welcome mat was another parcel similar to the one she received a while ago with the dress sent from Harry.
Something told her he had something to do with this one as well as she bent down to pick it up. Excitement flooded her nerves. Y/N shut the door behind her and set the parcel down on her counter. This one was slightly smaller in size than the last, but Y/N had no complaints—she knew whatever was inside would most definitely take her breath away, if it was anything like the last present (?).
Carefully, she took a small knife and undid the seams. A velvet, rectangular jewelery box was sealed inside this time, making Y/N’s eyes go wide. If it was jewellery, Y/N couldn’t even imagine just how much it probably cost the man. Her hands trembled slightly as she clicked open the small golden latch and opened the box.
Within it revealed the prettiest necklace Y/N had ever seen in her life; it was gold, with a delicate chain in the middle of which was nestled a small, tear drop pendant. She didn’t have to deduce much to come to the conclusion that the pendant was a diamond—she could tell by the distinct twinkle and shine which erupted from it. Her fingers traced the piece in awe.
She couldn’t believe he would do something like this. The dress was a shock for sure, but a diamond necklace? That was just absurd. Did Harry really have money to burn like this or was there a bigger conversation that needed to be had between the two? This time, Y/N was worried about whether she should be accepting such a divine gift at all.
When she found the familiar card hidden beneath the box, all apprehension left her body as butterflies began fluttering in her stomach.
The only teardrops that belong on your neck are made of diamonds.
AN: BEHEHHEHEHEH YAYYYYYY I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE!!! if you did please please do let me know leave replies reblogs send asks because IT MOTIVATES ME TO WRITE MORE!!! ALSO ARE U GUYS SEEING HOW FAST I WROTE THIS OMFG I LOCKED TF IN BECAUSE ur girl wants to see if she can keep up a posting schedule if she ever decides to get on patreon TEEHEEE HEHE EJOY MY LOVES!!!! I LOOK FORWARD TO KNOWING WHAT U THINK!!
CW: harry is a hot shot ceo, and y/n is his shy, new PA! minors please dni!!! enjoy!! longer an at the end!
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He made the familiar walk to his office, hand stuffed into his pocket and phone secure between his fingers. The lights were on, from what he could see from the outside, and the blurred glass made way for a figure standing right by his desk. Confusion lurked in Harry’s head as he wondered who could possibly be in his office without his permission. Without a second thought, he threw the door open and walked right in, “who are you?”
His voice was gruff and cold, a complete opposite to the sugary sight before him. Stood by his desk was a girl— a very pretty one, in fact. Big, round eyes looked at him, resembling a deer, and a plush mouth was left agape as she eyed him up and down. She was wearing a sweet ensemble; a pretty pastel blue dress that fell just past mid-thigh and had a tiny slit on it. Her hair was swept back over her neck, tamed and neat.
He lingered his gaze on her as she straightened up from where she was bent over his desk and cleared her throat, “hi, Mr. Styles, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she extended a hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” The slight rise and fall of her chest gave her nerves away but her eye-contact never faltered. Her hand was warm and soft when he took it, and only then did the last-minute text from Mitch come back to him.
By the way, you’ve got a new assistant starting this week. Be nice to her.
This was her. Of course. He gave her a firm handshake, “Harry.”
Y/N never thought life after university would be like this. When she first pursued her bachelors in business degree, she had dreamt of a future where right after graduation, she’d be offered all these hot-shot jobs and she’d go on to become a big, powerful business woman. Some might think this dream of hers was far-fetched and unrealistic, but when you graduate from a highly prestigious university, first class with honours, well, it’s at least a little bit fair to have such expectations.
She worked her ass off when she was still in school— nailing every exam and assignment, doing summer internships and for a moment she thought about applying for a masters degree, but that was quickly shot down when Y/N checked in on her accruing student debt. She might pursue it some time down the road, but for now, her main goal was to get out of this shit-hole of a cafe where she worked and get her ass to a big firm, just like she was promised by all the career counsellors at university.
She was applying consistently to a million different firms, and at this point, she’d be happy if she could even be a receptionist at one of them. She had exhausted all of her connections made in university in hopes of anyone linking her to a decent job, but she turned up with no luck as of yet.
She had been working at Bluebird cafe all throughout her degree and she was working there even now, seven months post graduating. Disappointment welled deep in her guts every time she saw herself in that same old uniform and cap, greeting the same customers and making do with the same lousy cheque.
It was another dreadful morning at said cafe when Y/N was preparing a humongous order for at least twenty six people. She assumed it was for an office or corporation, judging by the jittery young man who placed the order at the counter. He read carefully off a piece of paper every single order and made Y/N recite it back to him to ensure the drinks were perfect. He ended up handing the paper to Y/N so she could once again make sure everything was according to the requests, and it was on the paper Y/N recognised the prestigious navy logo stamped on the top right.
Grapejuice Inc.
One of the biggest textile corporations in the world, run by the famous Styles’ family. Y/N could only dream of a job there. It was suddenly understandable why the young man was nervous before her. The drinks must probably be for a big, senior meeting or something.
Y/N took her time perfecting them, writing the details of each order on the cups to make it easier for the man to allocate them. She slowly placed them in six separate paper cartons, stacking them on top of each other carefully. The man sighed graciously and took the bag from her hand ever so slowly before walking out of the cafe. She sighed, wiping her hands on her black apron. Behind her, Niall enthused out loud, “how much d’ya think they pay the poor boy to get ‘em their morning drinks?”
Y/N turned to face him, watching him rinse out the alternate milk blender, “probably thousands. It’s a huge company.” Niall hummed, “maybe. But usually such prissies have a hard time paying their employees well.”
Y/N was distracted by an order that pinged on their little UberEats tablet, and started prepping the two drinks and almond croissant. She hummed at his response. “Prissies or not, they’re one of the most influential corporations in the world.”
Niall nudged her shoulder and smirked, “don’t go around licking their asses already. They haven’t hired ya yet.”
”Ha. Let’s all make fun of my inability to find a proper job, now,” she mumbled sarcastically. She took her anger out on the oven door, slamming it shut after she put the croissant in there to warm up. Niall wiped his hands on a towel and rubbed them up and down her arms, comforting her, “hey c’mon, babe,” he said gently, noticing her frustrated frown. Seeing that man working for such an amazing corporation made her slightly jealous. It was a sour, unpleasant feeling which Y/N hated. Niall pulled her into his chest in the empty cafe, save for another employee, Mina, who wiped down the tables.
”They’re missing out on the biggest brain in the city,” he flicked her cap playfully, “the right job will come along, I know it. Don’t worry your pretty head over it.”
Y/N appreciated the comfort, leaning into him. She was grateful for his presence, and for his reassuring touch that grounded her. He pulled back and pinched her cheek playfully, “cheer up, buttercup. We’ve got lattes to make for abusive boomers!”
Y/N sighed. She only prayed that Niall's previous words had some truth to them.
-
That night when she got home, Y/N followed her usual routine of feeding her cat Pebble and then turning the shower on, waiting for it to warm up. In the meantime she prepped for dinner and picked out her pyjamas. Once she was all showered and fed, she climbed into bed and pulled out her laptop to do her nightly job search. Numerous sites were searched, Linkedin was scowered and her CV was passed around like a blunt at a party.
She might have applied for a position at Grapejuice Inc, in her sleep-driven haze. It might have been an assistant position for one of their senior management… could have been the Secretary… or the CEO. She doesn’t remember, as she passed out in front of her computer screen, the light glowing and illuminating her peaceful features.
-
When Y/N was in high school many years ago, she met a boy named Landon. They were both in the same Art History class, and the teacher paired them up for a project where they had to analyse and present on a popular period piece. She ended up spending long hours with him during the week, and Y/N being the hormonal teenage girl she was, fell for Landon’s shaggy blonde hair and toothy grin. He was sweet and caring, taller than her and called Y/N ‘sweets’ and four months after they first met, he asked her to be his girlfriend and took her out on her first date.
Landon had taken most of her firsts. He was the only boyfriend she ever had and the only person she ever kissed, but that was it. They never did anything beyond that. The most they ever dabbled in was maybe a hand on her ass or slipping under her shirt to touch her tummy while they made out, but it was never anything more. Y/N blamed the distance for that.
After high school, both Y/N and Landon had big dreams for university. They both wanted to go to one of the big schools, but the problem was that the one Y/N wanted to go to was ten hours away from the one Landon got into. Education was something that was important to both of them, so compromising it for the sake of their relationship was out of the question. They decided to make do with the distance and promised to each other they would remain loyal despite the land that separated them.
It was hard at times, especially in university when all of Y/N’s friends were able to go out and bring whoever they wanted home, date different people and have new experiences while she sat feeling lame because she missed her boyfriend. They still made an effort to try and see each other— oftentimes during semester breaks Y/N would visit Landon and Landon would try to visit Y/N. It was those fleeting days that kept Y/N sane during the course of their relationship.
She spoke to him everyday still, texting him little updates of her day, and he’d text her his. They called every couple of days, though they were pretty short since they were out of words to say thanks to their texts.
Y/N knew that Landon was currently working at his new job as a junior editor after he graduated with his English degree. She was happy for him, of course, but his new commitment meant she was hearing less and less from him. Although there were the daily ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts, these days she was seldom seeing those as well.
It was her day off today, a quiet Tuesday afternoon where Y/N decided to go to the farmers market a little ways from her apartment. She was sitting down at a small restaurant, a cold drink battling the summer heat resting in her hand, but her attention was somewhere else. Her lip was abused under her teeth as she typed up a message to Landon. She missed talking to him, and was penning all her frustrations and thoughts in a long paragraph when she was interrupted by her phone ringing.
The phone number was unfamiliar, making Y/N’s eyebrows furrow. She answered it cautiously. “Hello?”
”Good morning, am I speaking with Miss Y/N L/N?”
Confusion crept upon her. “Yes, this is her.”
”Hi, Miss L/N. This is Mitch Rowland calling from Grapejuice Inc, how are you today?”
Now that rendered Y/N speechless. Her heart dropped and her mouth fell open in surprise. The sound of a child shouting nearby shook her from her thoughts as she regained her consciousness and straightened up, “I’m well, how are you?”
”Pretty alright. Listen, we saw your application for senior assistant to the Chief Executive Officer and loved your CV. How are you placed for an interview sometime this week? Say, Thursday at nine?”
Y/N could not believe the words she was hearing through the phone. She wanted to scream and dance and hug this Mitch guy all at the same time. Her cheeks heated up and a big smile spread across her face, “yes! Thank you for calling me, of course, Thursday at nine is perfect.”
”Great! I’ll text you the address. You can come straight to the reception. Sheila will have your name and will let you through to the interview room. I look forward to meeting you.”
Y/N wished him a confident ‘me too’ and said goodbye, her heart still racing. She took a moment to bask in the reality of the situation. It felt so surreal— Y/N only ever dreamed of getting to work in such an amazing corporation, that too at such an amazing position.
Suddenly, the sun wasn’t harsh like before and her drink was sweeter. The chatter of children nearby made her feel peaceful instead of irritated. She didn’t even find it in herself to care about Landon’s lack of communication as she excitedly dialled Niall’s phone and screamed the news into his unsuspecting ear. An unfamiliar sense of hope filled her heart. Maybe things would finally start to look up for Y/N.
-
The two days leading up to Thursday were the longest ever. Y/N was nervous and excited at the same time, jittery while she was at the cafe serving customers. Niall hyped Y/N up, mumbled a million ‘I told you so’s and tried to ease her nerves when she went on and on about what she should say at the interview.
She asked Mina to cover her Thursday morning shift and ran to the mall the night before to browse for a new blazer, wanting to dress professional but also cute. It was also a million degrees out, so she would probably only wear the blazer indoors for an hour or two, depending on how long the interview was.
She still hadn’t texted Landon about it. Maybe once the job was secured she would, but she didn’t want to get his hopes up just to shatter them if things somehow did not work out.
The morning of, Y/N was too nauseous to eat anything. She usually got that way when she was nervous or anticipating something, so her lack of appetite didn’t come as a shock. The top she wore clung to her body nicely, a light pink colour which matched the kitten heels she had on. The blazer and skirt were of the same dark grey colour, complementing each other nicely. She felt pretty with her hair done neatly and makeup light. Hopefully she made a good impression on Mitch and whoever she met.
Driving to the office was somewhat of a dream. Y/N never thought she would be in this position, especially with how things were looking the past few months. Constant disappointment almost rendered her hopeless, but she was proud of herself for sticking through it. Now, she prayed that she got the job and could finally stand on her own feet, with a job she rightfully earned. She felt giddy thinking about what it would be like if she got the job. She would hand in her notice to the cafe immediately. Then she’d call her mum and Landon. They would be so happy for her, she just knew it.
The place was gigantic— an intimidating building that loomed over her jittery body. Y/N stared up at it. It had to be at least forty storeys. She took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to walk in, a smile gracing her features. Following Mitch’s instructions, Y/N went straight up to the lavish reception and caught Sheila’s attention. Sheila, who was gorgeous; long brown hair cascading down her back, and adorned in a baby blue dress. She flashed Y/N a friendly smile. “Hi! How can I help?”
”Hi, my name’s Y/N. I’m here for an interview. Mitch called me,” Y/N said. a look of recognition came across Sheila’s face as she grinned, “of course. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Just follow me through here.” Grapejuice Inc was just as grand on the inside as it was on the outside— immaculate architecture and wide, open spaces. There were large windows on all walls allowing sunlight to filter into the space, brightening up the area. Y/N followed Sheila to the elevator, “it’s the twenty second floor, fourth door to your right,” she informed Y/N easily.
Doing as she was told, Y/N soon found herself outside of a large room with double doors. The hallway she was standing in was mostly empty, littered with artwork on both sides. It felt like no one was even on the floor, silence flooding the area. As soon she thought about knocking on the doors, they swung open and she was met with a tall, brunette man.
He had long hair which was tied back neatly, and he smiled warmly at Y/N, “you must be Y/N,” he said, “my name’s Mitch. We spoke on the phone a couple of days ago.”
Y/N grinned and held out her hand, “right. Nice to meet you in person.” His handshake was solid— professional and perfected as he guided her into the room. It was a large room with a long conference table in the middle. On one side a bunch of papers were scattered. That was probably where Mitch was sitting. He motioned for her to take a seat across from him. A jug of water rested on the table along with a paper and pen. Y/N bit her nails into her palm to ground herself.
“Sorry about the mess. I’ve been doing these interviews all morning,” he started sheepishly. Y/N waved him away, “that’s okay. Don’t have to apologise.” Mitch cleared his throat, “let’s get started then…”
-
The interview ran for about an hour and a half. Y/N felt like Mitch was eating away at her brain, throwing a million questions at her at such a fast rate. She tried her best to answer diligently, taking her time to really think through what he was saying to give the best possible response. Y/N knew such opportunities were hard to come by, and she wanted to make the best of it.
The job he was describing was mostly administration stuff; keeping track of the CEO, Mr. Styles’, meetings, planning his trips, scheduling, filing, invoicing, organising. All the things she had mastered at school and during her internships. Mitch wanted Y/N to meet Mr. Styles in person, but he was away for a business conference in Japan.
“Well, all I can say right now is that I’m really glad I called you, Miss L/N,” he said, resting his hands on the table, “this has been great.”
Y/N felt her face heating and smiled gingerly, “thank you.”
“I know we spoke about this plenty, but keep this job description,” Mitch slid a piece of paper her way across the table, “feel free to familiarise yourself with it. I’ll have a chat with the team and let you know about the outcome of this interview latest by Monday.” He got up and held the door open for her, “thanks for coming in.”
Y/N shook his hand again and bid him goodbye, giddy as she walked out of the interview room and into the elevator. The sheet of paper was clutched between her fingers and she let out a deep breath. Although the interview was tiring, she was feeling hopeful about the job. Mitch was great and helpful, answering all of her questions easily and explaining the role to her in depth. She waved goodbye to Sheila and made her way out of the building, and when she was finally in the confines of her car, she squealed to herself; everything was slowly falling into place, and she couldn’t be more grateful.
-
Friday at three PM Y/N was at the cafe, mindlessly wiping down the counter. A startled Niall walked in from the back, “Y/N your phone was ringing. T’was an unknown number but I think they left an email or something.”
Y/N turned around in confusion. She saw as Niall stared down at her illuminating screen and tried to take her phone from him, “what? Who is it?” He furrowed his eyebrows, “it’s from someone called Mitch Rowland. I think… I think you got the job.” Her eyes widened, “you’re joking. Show me.”
He passed her the phone, and there it was. An email from Mitch. She read it over and over and over. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she realised she wasn’t dreaming. Y/N was going to be working at Grapejuice Inc. They wanted her as soon as possible.
Niall saw her dazed face and squeezed her tightly, his arms near suffocating her, “I told you! I knew you could do it, so fucking smart you are,” he kissed her hair, “I’m so happy for you, pet. They’re gonna love you.” She peeled back from his chest and looked at him with her tear-soaked face, “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she laughed in disbelief, “this whole thing feels like a dream.”
-
If Harry didn’t know any better, he could probably be convinced that this was what heaven felt like.
The way he jabbed into the back of the pretty girl’s throat had him throwing his head back and moaning uncontrollably, and he felt like an angel was personally taking his hand and leading him to eden. His palm came down on the kitchen counter in front of him, the other hand weaving into her hair to pull her further on his cock, “oh, fuck me.” The girl beneath him, Sophie, gagged around him loudly and then popped off of him, strings of her saliva connecting her to him. She smirked up at him, twisting her hand over his length as she gave her mouth a break.
“Yeah? You like the way I suck your di—”
He didn’t bother to hear the end of her poorly executed attempt at dirty talk and groaned, shoving her back on his cock. The action took her by surprise, and a wet filthy sound came from her throat as she swallowed around him desperately. Harry whimpered a little, head falling back on his shoulders. He held her there for about twenty seconds, throbbing in her mouth and letting his hair tickle her nose. When he saw tears prickle in her eyes, he decided to let her off for a bit. He loosened his grip on her hair and opted to softly scratch his nails against her scalp as she returned to bobbing her head.
It didn’t take much longer after that to make him come, a train of curses falling from his mouth as he held onto the counter tightly and whined, “fuck, fuck— Sophie, fu—” Hot, white ropes of his come spilled into her mouth which she took in willingly, eyes screwed shut and tongue out. He came for a while, and he came a lot; some of it dripping down the side of her mouth and on her chin. When he was finally done, his hand in her hair slipped to her jaw which he held tightly, prying her lips open.
Harry let a glob of his spit fall into her mouth, mixing in with his come on the well of her tongue. Sophie whined highly as he did, and moaned when Harry slapped her right cheek, soft enough that it didn’t seriously hurt her but hard enough that the zap went straight to her clit. He pushed her cheeks together and closed her mouth, “swallow.”
She did so obediently, before Harry backed up and let her stand to her full height. His eyes raked shamelessly over her figure, adorned in nothing but his office button up, legs bare and chin spit-slicked. Her blonde locks were a mess as she put her hands on his chest and giggled, “did you like that?”
Harry pulled her wrists off and thumbed at her cheek, “mhmm. I have to go to work,” he told her. Sophie pouted, “can’t you take one day off? You must be so tired after such a long flight…,” she ran her clean hand through his curls, “don’t go today? For me?”
He could have laughed in her face for that. If she thought she was anything more than an easy fuck for him, she was sorely mistaken. It didn’t matter that he had known her for over a year now— Harry didn’t date or commit. He hadn’t for a couple of years now. One night stands and fuck-buddies were more than enough to satiate his needs.
Sophie frowned when he stepped away from her and pulled his pyjama pants back up over his hips. He sighed, “I can’t stay, Sophie, I’ve a company to run.” She huffed and stomped her foot like a child, “but I missed you so much, H.” Her voice was nasally, suddenly annoying him to no end, especially when she tried to wrap her arms around him again. Harry dodged her and picked up his phone instead. “This was nice, Soph, but you have to go. I’ll call you a car and have Jared drop you off,” he patted her hip, “talk soon.”
He didn’t wait to hear her response and slipped upstairs to his large bedroom, shutting and locking the door in case she tried to follow him up. He really was tired and jet-lagged after the twelve hour flight. A couple of days off might do him some good, but as much as he hated to admit it, he was a workaholic who would choose a productive day at the office over a day off ninety percent of the time. He took a quick shower and got dressed, tugging on a crisp, dry-cleaned navy blue suit. His eyes flitted about his room as he sprayed on some cologne.
The sheets were awry and there were silk ties hanging off his headboard. Memories of the past night flooded his mind as he put on his cuff-links and gelled his hair. The way she felt around him, wet and soft, gushing on his cock. The way she tasted and writhed beneath him, coming over and over until Harry had to tie her down and force her to take what he gave her. Fucking her over and over again, bruise marks on her round ass, a warm mouth wrapped around his cock. It really was a lot of fun.
After making sure he had his phone and wallet, Harry rushed down the stairs and was glad to see that Sophie had left. At least he was safe from another awkward goodbye where she would whine about her feelings for him and he would have to let her down gently. She kept saying Harry was leading her on, but he didn’t see how.
He told Sophie from the beginning that he only wanted sex and she was fine with it. The first time she alluded to any sort of feelings, Harry told her he wasn’t interested in that way. She was hurt and she cried a bit, (which was Harry’s worst nightmare because he really had no idea how to react in situations like that), but she still showed up the next time he called her. He just assumed she was over him. Harry was a huge perfectionist, and if he wanted a relationship, he would have to put a lot of time and effort into it for it to be the sort he was looking for; time that he unfortunately did not have, since he was so busy making sure Grapejuice Inc ran smoothly.
As he left, he made sure to leave a note on his fridge for his cleaner letting her know that his sheets needed changing and the clothes on the floor needed to be dry cleaned. He put down what he wanted the chef to meal-prep for and called the elevator to go down to his car. He lived in the top floor penthouse apartment of a luxury accommodation in the middle of the city— a location which was convenient for him in more ways than one. It was close to where he worked, and he enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the city below him. The large windows in his place were his favourite since he could people-watch all he wanted (and he enjoyed the occasional fuck against it when it was dark enough).
He greeted Tomas, his driver, as he pulled the door open and let Harry into the car. They made small talk and Harry asked Tomas about his son who just started high school and his wife who was battling an illness. Tomas was Harry’s father’s driver as well, and he watched Harry grow up in front of him. He would drive Harry to daycare when he was a baby, soccer practice when he was a schoolboy, concerts when he was a teenager and now here he was, driving him to the same office he used to drive his father to. Harry felt oddly connected to Tomas, and couldn’t let him go no matter how much his age persisted.
They reached the building pretty quick and Harry thanked Tomas as he stepped out. Sheila smiled and greeted him as he walked in, and every cubicle he passed on his way to the elevator mumbled a ‘good morning, Sir.’
He made the familiar walk to his office, hand stuffed into his pocket and phone secure between his fingers. The lights were on, from what he could see from the outside, and the blurred glass made way for a figure standing right by his desk. Confusion lurked in Harry’s head as he wondered who could possibly be in his office without his permission. Without a second thought, he threw the door open and walked right in, “who are you?”
His voice was gruff and cold, a complete opposite to the sugary sight before him. Stood by his desk was a girl— a very pretty one, in fact. Big, round eyes looked at him, resembling a deer, and a plush mouth was left agape as she eyed him up and down. She was wearing a sweet ensemble; a pretty pastel blue dress that fell just past mid-thigh and had a tiny slit on it. Her hair was swept back over her neck, tamed and neat, perfect for an office atmosphere.
He lingered his gaze on her as she straightened up from where she was bent over his desk and cleared her throat, “hi, Mr. Styles, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she extended a hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/N. Your new assistant.” The slight rise and fall of her chest gave her nerves away but her eye-contact never faltered. Her hand was warm and soft when he took it, and only then did the last-minute text from Mitch come back to him.
By the way, you’ve got a new assistant starting this week. Be nice to her.
This was her. Of course. He gave her a firm handshake, “Harry.”
She smiled at him softly, a strand of her hair falling over her eye. Harry itched to tuck it behind her ear, maybe feel how soft her skin might be under her jaw, but he refrained. “I was just sorting out some of your files. I know you’ve been away so I—”
“What did you touch?”
He spoke sharply, eyebrows furrowed as he set his phone down on his desk and sat on his chair. “Just the documents in the filing drawers. I didn’t touch your desk, don’t worry.” Harry hummed. He watched as she stood in the middle of the room, twiddling her hands behind her back, “I… I colour coded and arranged them alphabetically. Cleaned up your schedule and added the reminders feature to your Teams as well,” she trailed off. She took his silence as her queue to continue. “I also re-recorded your voicemail for the phone and—”
“You can clean whatever you want, just don’t touch my desk. I take my coffee at nine, black, no milk and no sugar. Nine-fifteen, you’ll be in my office with my schedule. You will take orders from me and me only, and I should not have to buzz you twice if I need to see you. You’re off when I say you’re off, and don’t worry about lunch breaks, I tend to have them outside.”
He explained all this sternly, eyes sturdy and fixated on her. She let out a quiet breath and nodded, firm, “Noted. I’ll…” she glanced at the clock above his head. 8:47AM. “I’ll go and get your coffee, sir.”
With that, she smiled once again and scurried out of the room. Harry could tell she was a sweet little thing, just eager to please. Maybe it would be nice to have a pretty face in the office. His days might become less dull. He knew she was getting paid a lot for this job as his assistant, so he had a lot of expectations from her too. Hopefully she could bring a little warmth to his frigid reputation.
-
As the days passed with Y/N acting as Harry’s senior assistant, he had come to realise she executed the role much better than most of his previous assistants. The instructions he gave to her on the first day she seemed to have tattooed on her heart, and she stuck to them diligently. His coffee was at his desk everyday at nine sharp, she had a printed schedule she would read to him and then leave with him once she was done, she would organise some new cabinet of his or folder in his emails everyday and she was on top of his meetings and notes. Harry thought he might have to take Mitch out for a drink or something for managing to hire such an efficient assistant for him.
On top of all that, she had a pretty face which Harry occasionally enjoyed to ogle at. Though he wasn’t one to mix business and pleasure, he figured a little eye-candy never hurt anyone. It was not like he would ever act upon it, no matter how badly he wanted to bend her over his desk and fuck the life out of her.
Today was one such day as she came in wearing a tiny little red dress and matching heels. It was like she walked right out of a hot office fantasy, pencil in her hair and glasses on her nose. She was wearing a blazer on top earlier, but she took it off soon after arriving at work.
When she was reading out his schedule and setting his coffee on his desk, Harry struggled to not stare shamelessly at her figure which filled out the dress just perfectly. A few minutes in, she dropped a pencil on the floor and Harry felt like a teenage boy seeing boobs for the first time as she bent to pick it up.
Unsurprisingly, her pretty face didn’t go unnoticed by many. He realised that when they went into the monthly Senior Leadership Team meeting today, and most of the managers and team directors said hello to her tits first and then her face. It wasn’t even like the dress was provocative in any way— it was summer and a gazillion degrees out, Harry didn’t expect her to walk in wearing a wool jumper and sweats. Plus, the dress did cover most of her skin, it was just her legs that were bare, and that was only a little before her knees. Although Harry did think she was gorgeous (particularly today) he didn’t stare so blatantly and deliberately make her uncomfortable.
Once they said their greetings to everyone, Y/N settled in next to Harry with her notebook and pen on the table before her. He could smell her since she was right beside him, warm vanilla and caramel, a sweet scent that could put him to sleep. She was really testing him today, and the worst part was that Harry didn’t think she knew she even had that effect on him and almost everyone she met.
She asked him if he was okay when he didn’t move for a bit, to which Harry clenched his jaw and nodded tightly. Willing away his scandalous thoughts, Harry cleared his throat and pulled open the meeting notes Y/N prepared for him beforehand, “I hope you’re all having a good morning,” he looked around the room, “we’ve got a couple of important things to go over today, so make sure you’ve got your ears open. I need fresh ideas on the table…”
He listed off the BAU for the week and they went around the table to hear monthly updates from each of the department heads. Y/N penned every important detail vigorously with her lip between her teeth, but one particular discussion had her ears perking up. “I think it’s better if we stick to our suppliers in China and Bangladesh. It’s cost efficient and we’re meeting all of our KPIs,” one of the team members spoke up. Harry watched as another retorted, “I understand that it’s cost efficient, but we have to draft our yearly financial report in two months where we have to talk about our suppliers and sustainability. Large shipments of textiles every year is anything but.”
Next to him, he could feel Y/N’s nervousness wafting off in waves as she sat up straight and cleared her throat. Her soft voice quietly followed, “I… I think we can try switching to internal suppliers instead of external,” she glanced around the room looking for reassurance and settled her eyes on Harry who nodded at her. Although it wasn’t in her exact line of work to advise on this matter, she was still a valued member of the team who brought new input to the company. She continued, “it would be good for our brand image and we won’t have to fabricate our annual report. It’ll be ethical and sustainable, and that’s what consumers are looking for nowadays. We can even market it a—”
“Who are you?” Jerry, one of the team heads, suddenly cut her off. His eyes dug daggers into hers as he raised his brows. Y/N stuttered, “Y/N…I—I’m Mr. Styles’ senior assistant. I just had a few ide—”
“Save it,” he raised his palm, dismissing her thought, “I was thin—”
Harry’s loud voice cut Jerry off, “I believe Miss L/N was saying something before you so rudely interrupted her, Jerry. I do not permit anyone but me to give orders to any of my personal staff. Next time, I suggest you learn how to respect your peers in a meeting before walking into an esteemed room such as this.”
Y/N’s chest rose and fell nervously as she watched the exchange with wide eyes. Jerry immediately dropped his shoulders and darted his eyes away from both Harry and Y/N, now looking down at his notebook, “apologies, Mr. Styles.”
“Don’t apologise to me. Apologise to her.”
Now it was Jerry’s turn to have wide eyes as he looked at Y/N, “but she’s a—”
“We don’t have a lot of time here.”
A few moments passed as Y/N twiddled with her hands and looked at Harry before looking back at Jerry who didn’t meet her eyes as he quietly mumbled, “sorry.” She smiled softly. “It’s okay.” Harry could feel the heat radiating off of her; her face had gone pink and she was squirmy under the attention of the whole meeting room. He decided to close the chapter, “good. Keep these etiquettes in mind next time you walk into another meeting. Y/N, draft your initiative and send it to Analytics. I want to see the pros and cons of switching to internal suppliers by next week. You’re all dismissed.”
-
The whole exchange at the meeting had Y/N’s heart beating like crazy as they left the conference room. “Are you okay?” Harry checked in on her as they walked to his office. “Yep.”
She didn’t want to bother Harry with her anxious thoughts and worry him more than he already was as a CEO of such a big company. Her heart was still racing, “I’m gonna go for a quick walk,” she told Harry before grabbing her phone and heading to the elevators. Hopefully a little fresh air would do her some good. As she stepped outside into the bustling city, she took a deep breath and began walking to the courtyard where there was a big water fountain. She liked sitting by it and hearing the pitter-patter of the water. Her phone pinged when she sat down. It was Landon. The notification made her heart drop just slightly. Ever since she told him about her new job, he had been very distant. There was an initial excitement, but then he asked her how much she was getting paid. That’s when things went downhill. Grapejuice Inc was a big firm, and she had an important position. Her bank account was going to fatten up a little, but his reaction just had her a little disappointed.
Plus he kept asking her all these questions about the people she worked with, and not in a cool, interesting way. It was very stalker-ish and accusatory. She didn’t like it one bit. With a sigh, she ignored the message and shut her eyes, feeling the breeze against her face and trying to forget what happened in the meeting today.
-
About a week later, Y/N finally began feeling more comfortable in her role. She was getting to know Harry’s needs better and better as the days passed, and she tried her best to exceed his expectations as much as she could. Ever since he stood up for her in the meeting, she felt like she owed him that at least. It had been a long week at the office, with Harry slipping in and out of meetings which Y/N had to join him for, so she was particularly happy today as the week ended and the weekend approached.
She set her stuff down on her desk when they walked out of the last meeting of the week, “I’m just gonna get a coffee really quick. Did you want anything?” Harry was distracted by his phone, his eyes never straying as he walked past her.
“I’m alright, thanks,” he replied. Once he was in the confines in his office, Y/N let out a deep breath. Her hands slid down her skirt as she made her way to the office kitchen on the third floor, walking in to see a handful of people heating up lunches and waiting for the coffee machine. She reached up to get a cup and was startled when she suddenly felt a presence behind her.
A very unladylike yelp left her mouth as she turned to see the same guy she saw at Bluebird cafe a couple of weeks ago. “I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you!”
She held a hand to her chest and closed her eyes, a long breath escaping her lips, “you scared the living daylights out of me.” The man chuckled and backed up giving her space to lean back against the counter. “Sorry… though the sound you made was quite funny.” Y/N rolled her eyes and faked a dry laugh.
He grinned as he looked at her, before she saw his eyes narrowing, “wait, you’re the girl from the cafe a while ago. You made those twenty six drinks for the annual conference.” Y/N watched as realisation dawned upon him and he examined her like she was a bug under a microscope, “yeah. I remember you, mister so-nervous-I’m-shaking.” She watched as his cheeks turned pink. He looked down, making his dark hair flop over his forehead, “yeah. It was a big meeting, but they all really liked the drinks, so thank you for that.” It was then Y/N noticed how tall he was, towering over her with his brown eyes peering down at her.
“No problem. It was kind of my job at the time so…” Y/N turned to use the coffee machine, leaving him still blushing and staring at his shoes. She followed the prompts on the machine until her desired coffee poured out of the snout. “You’re Mr. Styles’ new assistant aren’t you?” He asked from behind her. Y/N hummed and nodded. “What’s your name?”
He giggled again, “oh right. I totally forgot to introduce myself. I’m Logan, I’m an administration coordinator.” Logan held out a hand for her to shake which she took, smiling, “nice to meet you, Logan. I’m Y/N.”
“I heard about what happened in the meeting last week,” this had Y/N turning around fully to look at him, an eyebrow raised, “word travels surprisingly fast in an office like this.”
“Oh.” She didn’t know what he expected her to say after making that statement. She kind of hated that the first thing he associated her job title to was the speck of drama that went down in the meeting. Her heart hurt a little— she wanted to be recognised for more than just some petty spectacle.
Next to Y/N, another girl stood by the second coffee machine. She must have been listening to their conversation because she spoke up first, “we all heard what happened. Not gonna lie, it was a little bit shocking to hear that Mr. Styles told Jerry off for talking down to an assistant. He usually loves Jerry.”
Y/N’s lips parted, “he didn’t tell anyone off, he just… told him to somtimes let other people have the floor in meetings. It’s common manners.”
The girl smirked, “Mr. Styles doesn’t do that for just anyone. He’s very… cold.” Y/N furrowed her brows, “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say to me.” The blonde only scoffed and flicked her hair over her shoulder, “oh, I think it’s very clear what I’m trying to say. One doesn’t just score a job like yours and become Mr. Styles’ favourite little pet,” she raked her eyes up and down Y/N’s body, “compensation has to be… paid, somehow.”
What she was implying had Y/N’s stomach churning. Not only did she feel utterly disgusted at such an accusation, but she was hurt beyond belief. The words were disrespectful and not true. Y/N did not work her ass off to get into Grapejuice Inc just for it to be reduced to nothing by some employee.
Just as she was going to retort back with something fiery, a deep voice beat her to it, “I hope this little party is about the new marketing strategy your team is implementing, Becca.” Y/N turned to see Harry standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. The blonde girl— Becca’s eyes widened, “Mr. Styles! Yes, I was just asking Logan ab—”
“I hate a fibber.”
Becca stammered over her words. “Sorry, Mr. Styles. I was just getting back to my desk.”
“Good,” Harry said, stopping her in her tracks, “I also hate petty gossip, especially in my office. If I hear another word of false accusations about anyone from anyone’s mouth, you’ll be hearing from HR.”
Y/N raised her brows at his comment and saw how Logan passed her a look of surprise as well. Becca mumbled a ‘sorry’ and left the kitchen soon after, scurrying past Harry. He didn’t even spare a glance her way as he looked at Y/N. “Get back to work.”
“Yes, Mr. Styles.” She told Logan goodbye before leaving the kitchen. Her coffee was clutched tightly in her hands the whole way to her desk as she wondered what the fuck her day had been.
-
It was later on the same day as Y/N sat at her desk with her head in her hands. She had a long tiring day running around in meetings and scheduling appointments for next week. Plus, Becca’s earlier comments still weighed heavy in her mind. The words affected her more than she would like to admit. On top of all of that, Landon was still being cold over text. He gave her one-word answers after leaving her on delivered for ages. She was wracking her brain trying to figure out why he was acting this way— was it jealousy? Or did he just miss her? She hoped it was the latter.
Her head was pounding and she glanced at the clock to see it was six PM. Way past her home time. She just had so much to do. The pressure got to her head as she dug her fingers into her scalp, trying to relieve some pain. Things only got worse when she felt tears prickle her eyes and spill past her waterline. She just felt so stupid.
She felt pathetic crying at her workplace and letting her tears stain her to-do list which was littered with a bunch of little tasks. Taking a few breaths to contain herself, she didn’t even notice when Harry stepped out of his office for a breather. Her sniffling caught his attention. “Miss L/N? What are you still doing here?”
She quickly wiped her tears and straightened up, “I was just finishing a few things up,” she mumbled. She kept her head low but Harry saw right through her. The whole building was dark and quiet as everyone had gone home. The only light on her desk was from her lamp. Harry leaned against it and looked down at Y/N. “Y/N,” he called her by her first name, “what’s wrong? Are you… are you crying?”
A dry chuckle left her mouth. Her wet eyes met his and his shoulders deflated. This was his nightmare situation. He was the worst at comforting people. His hips shifted nervously. “A—are you alright?”
“Clearly no.” She shook her head and looked down into her lap, cheeks heating up. Harry didn’t want to overstep any boundaries but he also couldn’t just leave her sobbing at her desk. “Do… you wanna talk about it?”
She shot him an incredulous look. Even if she did want to talk about it, her boss was not the ideal person. Y/N tried to dismiss him without hurting his feelings. “I’m fine, really,” she sniffled and wiped one more tear. Although Harry was terrible with emotions, he wasn’t an idiot. Clearly something was bothering her to the extent that she had to cry at her desk. He sighed, deciding to ask one more time, “are you sure?”
If it was him in her shoes, he’d probably tell the other person to fuck off and mind their own business, just because he was terrible at being vulnerable. But this was Y/N— sweet Y/N who brightened up his mornings with her pretty smile. He might not know her too well, but he knew she had a good heart.
A long breath escaped her nose as she shut her eyes and held a hand on her forehead, “I just… it’s just been a lot recently.”
Harry’s eyes widen, “is it the workload? You can tell m—”
“No! No, it’s not that. Things have been shaky in my personal life and I… I can’t stop thinking about this morning with Becca a—”
“Did she say something again?” He cut her off, stern. Y/N’s head snapped up, “not after you warned her, no. But before you came she said some nasty things which obviously weren’t true and I can’t get them out of my head. It’s stupid.”
She sniffled and Harry frowned. He heard the conversation just as he was approaching the kitchen. Becca’s words were sharp enough to hurt someone, especially someone as educated and well-performing as Y/N. Harry knew what it was like when people tried to blame your success on things like sex and connections, having been from a big family. Older CEOs and managers often under-estimated him, assuming he was where he was because of his family. That just wasn’t true. He worked really hard to be where he was. It wasn’t like his father made it easy on him.
He took a step closer and hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder. The touch was awkward but he wanted to offer her some form of comfort, “what she said was obviously not true,” he watched as she winced, realising he heard the conversation, “it shouldn’t matter what she says. Or what anyone says. You can’t get hung up on petty things like that if you want to go far in this line of work. People will always talk down and project their failures on you but you can’t let that get you. Unless you want to get walked all over.”
Y/N’s shoulder burned where he touched her, his palm almost electric. Physical touch was something she rarely got since Landon was so far away, and really, how clingy could she be with Niall before he got pissed? She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, “yeah,” sniffle, “yeah. You’re right.”
Harry watched as she closed her eyes and composed herself. He slowly took his hand off of her, noticing how she deflated with… disappointment?
A few moments passed and he heard her tummy grumble loudly. The sound brought a small barely-there smile to his lips as she blushed furiously, “sorry, I—”
“Why are you apologising? For having normal human functions? Have you not eaten yet?”
Y/N shook her head, twiddling with her hands. Not only was she embarrassed that she cried in front of her boss, but her stomach’s loud protests had her all red. She didn’t have time to get lunch today since she was so busy, running on coffees all day. Harry sighed, “c’mon. We’ll go get something to eat.”
Her eyes widened, “wh–what?”
Harry raised his brows, “let’s go.”
She couldn’t say anything after that as Harry left to grab his coat and phone from his office. Y/N watched as he shrugged it on, admiring his biceps bulging against the button up. The soft, dim lighting of the area wasn’t making things any easier. He cleared his throat, snapping her out of her thoughts, “I’ve called for Tomas, my driver.”
Nodding, Y/N grabbed her purse and phone. They took the lift together. There was an odd tension as they stood silently, stealing glances at each other occasionally. Y/N played with her fingers in the oddly long ride, filling the silence by humming quietly. Harry smiled to himself upon hearing her.
When they reached, he led her out and towards the car Tomas brought out front. Tomas smiled at both of them and Y/N shook his hand. His stare lingered on her puffy eyes but he didn’t say anything. “I hope you like Italian,” Harry murmured. He opened the door and let her sit first and then followed. There was a whole seat empty between them where Y/N settled her purse. She still couldn’t process what was happening as she nodded at his words.
“La Vita Vino, please, Tomas.”
“Yes, sir.”
A couple of beats of silence passed. Harry’s face was illuminated by his phone as he scrolled. In the meantime, Y/N’s lip faced the wrath of her anxiety. She decided to speak up, “you really don’t have to do this, Mr. Styles. I—I’m very grateful but I hate putting you through so much troubl—”
“It’s no trouble.”
He shut his phone and glanced at her. Just the look had her skin burning. Y/N blamed the nerves.
“Okay.”
A car honked.
“Thanks though,” Y/N said.
“You’re welcome.”
The rest of the drive was silent. Y/N saw how Tomas spared glances at the two of them, eyes lingering on the empty seat between them. She might have seen him smile, but that could be her imagination. She was feeling quite out of it, especially after that cry.
They soon arrived at a beautiful restaurant. It had soft, yellow lighting and an outdoor patio. It was oddly romantic for a CEO-personal assistant dinner, but Y/N bit her tongue. Just the fact that he bothered to take her out meant so much to her. She didn’t want to ruin the moment with anything. She said thanks to Tomas as he held the door open for her.
When they walked in, Y/N couldn’t help but look around in awe. It had a gorgeous interior with intimate seating. She watched as Harry walked up to the hostess and requested his ‘regular’ table. The hostess smiled, “of course, Mr. Styles.”
Y/N saw as Harry followed the waitress, looking back at her, “c’mon.”
She was snapped out of her daze, allowing the hostess to lead them to a small table around the back. Thankfully it wasn’t candle-lit. That would make the dinner look like something it most definitely was not. The hostess pulled out a seat for Y/N and then Harry. “Can I get you started with some wine, sir?”
Harry glanced at Y/N, “any preferences?’
“Oh, I don’t drink,” she bit her lip. His brows dipped just slightly but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll have a serving of Masseto, please.”
“Of course, sir. Perhaps water for the missus?”
Y/N’s eyes almost shot out of her skull when she heard the hostess. She stammered over her words, “Oh, we—I’m not—”
“Yes, please.”
The hostess smiled and left, promising to come back with their drinks. As she left, Y/N turned to Harry, still flustered, ‘“sorry! I don’t know why she said that.” He looked at her like she was crazy, “why are you apologising?” He repeated for the second time that night, “it’s not like you told her to say that.”
Her mouth shut at that. She relaxed into the seat, still unable to meet his eyes, “yeah… I guess you’re right.”
Harry hummed approvingly. He slid a menu towards her to have a look at. Wordlessly, she picked it up and scanned the items. They were all crazy expensive— almost a week's worth of her wages for one dish. Plus, she could barely even read some of these names. Nervously she glanced at Harry, “what do you usually get?”
“I like their Agnolotti del Plin,” he said, not looking up from the menu. She put hers down and sighed. His eyebrows furrowed as he met her eyes, “what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ll get what you’re having. The agnal thing.”
“Agnolotti del Plin?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
The waitress came back to their table and asked them if they were ready to order. Y/N let Harry do the talking, afraid to mispronounce anything. She watched in awe as the Italian rolled off his tongue so easily. The waitress nodded and told them she’d be back with their dishes soon. When Harry turned back to her, his brows were still furrowed.
“Have you… ever had Agnolotti del Plin?”
“... yes,” she lied.
“Oh. Right.”
It was silent again. Their dynamic was so odd that Y/N didn’t know how to make conversation with him. What would they even talk about?
“Do you feel better?” He referred to her earlier breakdown. A breath escaped her mouth, “yes. Thank you Mr. Styles.”
“I don’t want to pry, but if there’s anything you want to talk about…” Harry said. Getting the sentence out was a feat. He was smart enough to know that talking about your feelings helped you feel better but he didn’t know what he would do once she started talking. Should he be touching her shoulder again? Rubbing her arm for comfort?
“I don’t want to bother you with my problems.”
“It’s no bother, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. But I understand if you don’t want to talk.”
“Thanks,” she said for the millionth time that night. She wasn’t quite ready to spill her guts in front of her boss yet, no matter how vulnerable the crying made her seem. They remained quiet until the food was placed before them.
The dish was amazing— ravioli packed with smoked pigeon and covered in truffle sauce. It was when she smelled it that she realised how truly hungry she was. Once it was presented to her, she had her head down, engrossed in the food. Harry could understand completely. He himself was starving when he walked out of his office earlier. The only reason he really left was to go see if there was anything in the office fridge he could snack on.
About midway through their meal, her phone pinged. She ignored it when it went off once. But then it pinged again and again and again. Ignoring it for the sake of having good manners, Y/N turned it over and tried to continue with the meal, except it began pinging even more. “I’m sorry,” she sighed, putting her fork down and picking up her phone. It was Landon.
Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared down at the texts. He demanded to know where she was since she hadn’t texted him in a couple of hours. She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man; he didn’t respond to any of her texts all day and still expected her to continue texting him even after he made it clear he didn’t want to speak to her. Her irritated expression didn’t go unnoticed by Harry.
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah… yeah, it’s just my boyfriend.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You have a boyfriend?” He blurted out.
Y/N met his rounded eyes. “Yes. We’re long distance.”
“Oh.”
“He’s been weird ever since I started working at Grapejuice Inc,” Y/N continued. “I don’t know. It’s just stressing me out, I guess.”
Harry hummed. It wasn’t his place to say, but he knew that if a relationship was stressing someone out, then it probably wasn’t healthy. He bit his tongue when he saw her furrowed brows. She huffed and put her phone on silent, not bothering to respond as she went back to her food.
They finished eating soon after. Y/N insisted on splitting the bill but Harry looked at her like she had grown a second head, snatching the bill from her hands. He slid his platinum card inside and gave it to the waitress who found their exchange amusing. After she brought them the receipt, Harry called Tomas to come up front. “Where do you live?” He looked at her expectantly and held the door open for her.
“Oh, just down nine and fifth avenue. It’s the house with the purple mailbox.”
Tomas nodded at her words and began driving. This time, Y/N had her purse in her lap. Her hand was resting on the middle seat. Harry was looking out of the window as they sat in silence. She admired him for a little while, appreciating the cut of his jaw and his plump lips. It was almost aggravating how pretty he was. His hand, ringed and tattooed with a cross by his thumb, rested on the middle seat as well.
His eyes never wavered from where they looked outside at the passing lights. Y/N shut her eyes and rested her head back against the seat. It had been an insane day and she couldn’t wait to go home and get under her covers. She must have relaxed a little too much, though, because a few moments later she felt her pinky collide with his. Surprisingly, neither of them jumped at the feeling. His hand was warm and her heart was racing.
They grazed each other again. For a second, Y/N felt his pinky rest completely on top of hers, though he didn’t stop gazing out the window. They both jumped as Tomas suddenly sneezed, pulling their hands away. Harry cleared his throat and Y/N told Tomas ‘bless you.’ The whole interaction had her breathing erratic and lip worried.
She finally recognised her street when they turned around the familiar corner. A grateful smile graced her features. She thanked Tomas first and then turned to Harry. She was immensely thankful for his comfort and for providing her with a full belly by treating her to such a luxurious meal. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. I had a great time and I feel so much better.”
He met her smile with a small one. “It was my pleasure. Have a good night, Miss L/N.”
“Night.”
-
Y/N relayed the night's details to Niall the next morning over coffee. He gasped dramatically and went on and on about how this was Y/N’s ‘romcom’ moment and that she was the main character who had a hot CEO boss obsessed with her. Y/N only laughed at how ridiculous he was, smacking his head when he wouldn't shut up and began narrating detailed, graphic, office fantasies that he most probably saw in some cheap porno.
“It doesn’t matter, Ni. I have a boyfriend,” was what she told him, trying to brush him off. “A boyfriend who lives a million miles away and doesn’t care if you live or die.” Those words did make her frown a little bit. Maybe Landon was a little bit weird and possessive, but surely he would care if Y/N dropped dead out of nowhere. She tried to give no weight to Niall’s words. She had enough on her plate to worry about.
When she finally decided to confront Landon, he demanded she tell him where she was last night. Y/N lied and said she was having dinner with Niall, but Landon didn’t even like that response. Any friend of Y/N that was a male was automatically disliked by Landon. It was a stupid habit of his, but then Y/N put herself in his shoes and thought about how she would feel if he began hanging out with a bunch of girls. It would leave a sour taste in her mouth but would she really react like he did? So dramatic and accusatory?
She tried her best to ignore the pestering thoughts as she walked into work the following Monday. She wondered if the air between her and Harry would be any different now that he had seen her in such a vulnerable state. But then again, he was known for his cold exterior, so maybe not. She took a deep breath as she walked in with his coffee in hand at exactly nine AM. He was busy on the phone and typing something on his computer at the same time, sparing her a glance and a small nod.
Whispering a small ‘good morning’, Y/N set the coffee down on his table. It was then she realised how dark and stuffy it was in his office. He probably forgot to open up the windows again on Friday before leaving. Deciding to open them up to encourage some air circulation, she walked behind Harry’s desk. The blinds were behind his chair and Y/N tried to squeeze herself between the small gap to open them up. Harry was too preoccupied on the phone to notice her.
The space was quite narrow so she had to really get in there to get the blinds open, stretching slightly and getting on her tippy-toes. Behind her, she heard Harry put the phone down. Suddenly, she felt as she lost her footing, a yelp escaping her mouth as she prepared to collapse face-first on the floor.
Except she didn’t collapse.
A firm, warm pair of hands settled on her waist, preventing her from face-planting into the floor. She was standing in between Harry’s legs, leaning over him so his breath washed over her face. Her hands were planted on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there and he held her waist tightly. Her breath was stolen from her lungs.
“You okay?”
For some reason, she struggled to tear her gaze away from his mouth as he spoke, mesmerised by the way his lips moved. She almost relaxed into his hold. “Y–yeah. Thanks.” Now it was Harry’s turn to stare at her mouth. He met her eyes, then her lips, then her eyes, then her lips. They were painted pink and parted, practically begging Harry to kiss them. It was like he couldn’t help it as he leaned in closer— like her lips personally called to him to be tasted.
His thumbs dug into her ribs. She made a small sound which sounded awfully close to a whimper. That was ultimately what pushed him over the edge as he threw all resolve out of the door and caved in to the taste of her mouth. He had been thinking about what she might taste like for the longest time now, the night at the restaurant not making things any easier as her mouth plumped up in constant pouts.
Now, though, Harry was in heaven. She was sweet, like mango juice as he kissed her more firmly, letting her relax in his hold. His grip on her waist was all that was holding her up now as she suckled on his bottom lip and grabbed his shoulders harder.
This was so, so wrong. It was so inappropriate for him to be making out with his assistant in his office, lost in the taste of her and the sight of her in that little floral sundress. He groaned against her when she slid her tongue into his mouth. Her movements were bolder than he expected as she bit his lip softly.
The shrill sound of his phone ringing was what made them part, a filthy sound resounding when they pulled away, and strings of spit connected their mouth. He looked into her eyes as she wiped his mouth with her thumb and finally stood up. She looked flustered and fucked out— cheeks flushed and lips spit-slicked. Her dress had ridden up but she quickly pulled it down. Harry tried desperately to will his hard-on away, eyes never leaving hers despite the sound of his phone ringing in the office.
She was a little out of breath, “you… you should probably get that.”
He nodded, snapped out of his daze. “Yes. Yep. I’ll, uh… I’ll get that.”
“Cool.” Cool?
Turning on her heel, she left his office. When the door shut behind her, Y/N slid a hand through her hair and bit her thumb. She just made out with her hot CEO boss. In his office.
Although the kiss was amazing and her heart was racing, she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She had a whole boyfriend who trusted her to remain loyal and this was what she decided to do? Her heart sank a little in her chest, but she realised it didn’t outweigh the giddiness in her body and wetness between her thighs, all because of a little kiss. She groaned.
Y/N was fucked.
-
It was nearing lunch-time and Harry was still hung up on that fucking kiss. He felt so stupid for letting himself slip like that. How could he have made such a big mistake? Getting hot with your employees was one of the biggest no-nos of being in-charge of running a whole company.
But he just couldn’t deny how good it felt.
How nice she tasted, how she felt under his hands. The sounds she made and her confidence as she slipped her tongue into his mouth. She was exactly how he thought she would be— addicting. He couldn’t stop thinking about her; not as he went about his day to numerous meetings, attended a morning tea and interviewed an important client.
His every thought started and ended with her ever since she cursed him with that fucking mouth. Soft, warm, wet… he could only imagine how she felt in other places. Running a hand down his face, Harry sighed heavily. This wasn’t healthy. He had to either stop thinking about her or figure out a way to deal with this situation head on. Somehow the latter seemed easier.
He thought back to a couple nights ago when she was stressed and crying right in front of him. He knew the poor girl had a lot going on in her life, and with her boyfriend being long distance, he assumed she didn’t have a lot of means to release some of her frustrations. Plus, from what she told him, her boyfriend sounded like an absolute shit-bag so Harry automatically assumed he wouldn’t be able to give Y/N the satisfaction she needed anyway.
Pacing in his office, a crazy idea popped into Harry’s head.
Since just buying her dinner made her so happy and stress-free, Harry wondered what else he could do for her to make her feel good again. He wasn’t just thinking about pleasuring her anymore. He wanted to spoil her. He wanted to make her feel special. Not only would it help with her frustrations, but it would be a good outlet for him as well. It was not like he had plans to marry and start a family soon and he had heaps of money just sitting in his bank accounts. Money that had no use apart from paying for his bills and groceries.
Money he was willing to spend and that would probably be appreciated more elsewhere.
He wanted to propose an arrangement to Y/N, like the business-man he was. He’ll spoil her to the ends of the world, till her heart’s content— till he pleases. In return he would request her time and affections. In the way he craves, like a starved man. It was crazy to think that just the touch of her lips was driving him to take such steps— he felt like a spell had been cast on him. He had to see her. He had to tell her.
Finally deciding to grow a pair, Harry threw his door open and strutted out of his office, hair messy thanks to his fingers and eyes wide. However, his stomach sank when he turned to see if Y/N was at her desk.
The good part was that she was there like he hoped, looking all pretty in her sundress and hair left down. The bad part was that there was a blonde man standing before her, handing her a bouquet of flowers and pulling her in for a kiss.
The same lips he kissed mere hours ago.
The same waist he caressed was being hugged tightly as the boy lifted her off her feet and she smiled into his mouth, blinded to the shattering of Harry’s heart as he stood there by the door, disappointment overcoming his hard features.
-
Kissing Landon was very different to kissing Harry.
Whereas Harry met Y/N gently, like she was made of glass, puckered his lips tenderly and pressed sweet little pecks against her pouty mouth, Landon was quite… harsh. His arm slithered around her waist the same time he kissed her; rough, oddly possessive and a little painful, if she was being honest. He smashed his mouth into her teeth too hard, and paired with the grip he had on her waist, Y/N almost felt like she was being punished for some horrific crime.
And well, now that she pondered over it, maybe she deserved a distasteful kiss. She wasn’t really the ideal girlfriend these past couple of days which she spent daydreaming about her hot CEO boss, wondering what his soft words and lingering touches meant. Then when he kissed her mere hours before Landon surprised her, for those couple of minutes, the fact that Y/N even had a boyfriend slipped her mind completely. All she could think about was the strong, caring man in front of her, kissing her with so much passion and his hands on her sides, which pressed into the warm skin, bunching up her dress, and maybe if the phone didn’t ring and they didn’t have to stop, he would have pulled her onto his lap and slipped his fingers beneath her dress—
She was truly a terrible person.
She was a horrible, nasty, disgusting person for cheating on her poor unsuspecting boyfriend and kissing another man behind his back. The moment she stepped outside of his office, breathless with swollen lips, guilt swarmed her belly and made her insides turn black. Like she was rotten. And she felt rotten, but that wasn’t the worst part. Something else dug into her whirlwind of a brain, rattled her bones and made her breath tremble.
Despite the guilt that ate away at her heart, Y/N couldn’t deny that she liked it.
She liked the way he latched onto her bottom lip, and she liked the way he held her like she was going to slip away if he loosened for even a second. She liked the sounds he made and she liked the look in his eyes when she pulled away— hazy, like he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her spit-slicked lips. And perhaps she liked all of these things a little too much… perhaps they outweighed the guilt in her tummy.
God, she was just an awful human. She spent the next three hours following the kiss internally fighting herself over this dilemma, going back and forth feeling guilty and then feeling horny. Her panties were uncomfortably soaked and she had to make an embarrassing trip to the mall by the office just to grab a new pair of underwear— over a fucking kiss.
A kiss. That was literally it. They didn’t do anything further, he didn’t slide his hands between her legs, didn’t kiss down her neck— just showered her in honeyed purses of his lips and she was such a fucking mess. In her defence, she hadn’t been touched in any way in a long, long time. With Landon living ages away, Y/N often had to go months upon months without any physical affection. Even when they did get to spend time together, he didn’t let their kisses get too frisky. Didn’t let it progress to anything further, no matter how much she wanted.
She asked him about it too, but he would always go on some long spiel about how he was saving it for marriage and how amazing their first night together would be once they were husband and wife and they could finally have sex. Outwardly, she’d agree. Landon was always sort of sentimental— someone who was sensitive and wanted everything to have some deep meaning they could uncover together.
But Y/N was only just a girl. She had needs. Needs which her boyfriend was not meeting and needs for which her vibrator was just not enough anymore! That was why she was so ready to take things further with Harry. She wouldn’t have minded if he yanked her on his lap and grinded her against his bulge. She wouldn’t have minded if he touched her ass and pushed her dress up, tucked his fingers into her panties an—
This was becoming a problem. Her fucking boyfriend was standing right in front of her yet all she could think about was what Harry’s palms would feel like on her thighs.
Her fucking boyfriend was standing right in front of her and— wait. Why was he standing right in front of her?
Her jaw dropped when he stepped out of the elevators and came into her view; tall, beaming, blonde hair pushed back and a bouquet of roses in his hands. Her jaw stayed dropped when he sauntered towards her, one arm stretched wide like he was presenting himself, “surprise!”
And then:
“Oh my god! Landon!”
She stopped lagging and forced herself to a stand, watching as he jogged towards her and engulfed her into his chest. Landon felt familiar. He was warm, sturdy, built with strong muscles and broad shoulders which she wrapped her arms around. Citrus and musk invaded her senses; a scent which usually brought her comfort. Usually reminded her of home and date nights, cuddles and walks in the park.
Now it made her sick. Nauseous. Her stomach had been churning ever since she left Harry’s office that morning and his harsh cologne was not helping. Her nose was squished into his neck and his arms were wrapped around her like cling-film, nearly smothering her. She felt like she was suffocating, and she would have, had she not put her hands on his chest and gently shoved him off of her. Then came the initial shock, “wh–what are you doing here? How did y—”
“I wanted to surprise you, sweets. I missed you and I barely heard from you. Are you not happy to see me?”
Now, how could Y/N ever tell him she was anything but?
AN: BHHEHE GUYS SORRY I COULDNT HELP MYSELF WITH ALL THE TOUR CONTENT AND THE BUSINESS CASUAL VIBE IT WAS DRIVING ME NUTSSS!!! I HAD TO PULL TIS ONE OUT OF THE BAG!!! I THINK IMMA CONTINUE THIS SERIES I HAD SM PLANNED AND IT IS ONE OF MY FAVS!!!! HOPE U ENJOY!!! LET ME KNOW UR THOUGHTS!! also i know my fic plans are ALL OVER THE PLACE just trust im waiting to be done with uni and IM LOCKING INNNNN
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x mom!wife!reader x twins!toddlers
Warnings: mild angst, high fevers, sick children, needles, IVs, fluff ending
Summary: A midnight fever transforms an ordinary bedtime into every parent's worst nightmare, leaving you with no choice but to rush your four year old twins, Luca and Lily, to the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
🎀 based on this request 🎀
It was 2 AM. Your head throbbed in time with Lily’s relentless and exhausting whimpers.
The field trip to the local farm earlier that day had been a cute disaster of heat, animals and pollen, but by bedtime, it had mutated into something worse.
A spiking fever of 103.4°F, a fiery red rash creeping up Lily's neck, and a terrifyingly lethargic demeanor that left you with no choice. You had thrown coats over their pajamas, scooped them up, and driven to the one place you hoped you wouldn’t have to visit tonight.
"Mama, it hurts," Lily sobbed into your neck, her body radiating heat. One of her little hands was clamped in a death grip around her tattered Jellycat bunny, its ears damp from her tears.
"I know, baby. I know. The doctor is going to help make it stop," you murmured, rocking her back and forth in the hard plastic waiting room chair. Your arms felt like lead.
Next to you, four year old Luca pressed himself tightly against your side. He wasn't crying, but his knuckles were white where he held his book. He was trying desperately to tune out the chaos of the ER; the blaring ambulance sirens outside, the coughs of a man three seats down, the hurried footsteps of the staff. He stared hard at the cartoon pictures, his lips moving silently as he tried to read the words he’d memorized.
For the sixth time, you pulled out your phone and hit dial.
Hello, this is Dr. Abbot-
You cut it off, swallowing the lump of frustration and fear in your throat. Jack was on the night shift, but the ER was absolutely slammed. You knew how it went; when the department red lined, personal phones were non-existent. But right now, you didn’t care about hospital protocols. You just wanted your husband.
"Mrs. Abbot?"
You snapped your head up. Lena, the night shift charge nurse, was standing there with a clipboard, her eyes widening in recognition as she looked at you, then down at the twins in their matching pajamas.
"Lena," you breathed, a wave of relief washing over you.
"Oh, honey, what are you doing here? Is it Lily?" Lena instantly dropped into a crouch, pressing the back of her hand to Lily's flushed forehead. She cursed softly under her breath. "She’s burning up. Come on, let’s get you guys out of this waiting room right now. I'm putting you straight into Exam Room 4."
You gathered Lily in one arm and grabbed Luca’s small, trembling hand with the other, following Lena through the double doors into the chaotic centre of the ER.
The noise doubled. Trays clattered, monitors beeped frantically, and doctors shouted orders. Luca clung to your coat, burying his face in your hip, while Lily just wailed, terrified by the commotion.
"Jack is in the middle of a trauma in Bay 2, maybe that's why he hasn't answered," Lena explained hurriedly as she guided you down the hallway. "But as soon as he's—"
"Daddy!"
A desperate scream tore from Lily’s throat, cutting through the ambient noise of the corridor.
You froze. A few yards ahead, the doors to Trauma Bay 2 swung open. Jack stepped out, tearing off a pair of bloody surgical gloves and tossing them into a biohazard bin. His hair messy and his scrubs disheveled.
Before you could tighten your grip, Lily’s adrenaline kicked in. She wriggled violently out of your arms, her bare feet hitting the cold floor. Dropping her Jellycat bunny, she ran toward him, her tiny pajama clad frame shaking with shuddering sobs.
"Daddy! Daddy, it hurts!"
Jack snapped his head toward the sound of the voice, his entire body going rigid.
"Lily?" his voice cracked. "Princess, what are you doing here?"
He didn't care who was watching. He scooped her up and Lily collapsed against him.
"H-Hurts, daddy, all hurts." she cried against him.
"Okay, I’ve got you, princess. Daddy’s here." Jack choked out, his eyes instantly tracking over her flushed skin.
He looked up, his gaze finding yours across the hallway. The sheer panic and heartbreak in his eyes mirrored your own, the heavy weight of the night crashing down on both of you in the middle of the crowded ER floor.
The door to Exam Room 4 clicked shut, muting the hallway chaos, but the tension inside the room was palpable.
Jack had Lily up on the examination table, but she was having none of it. The high fever made her sensitive, irritable, and completely uncooperative.
Every time Jack tried to bring the stethoscope near her chest, she shrieked, kicking her legs and thrashing against the paper lining of the table.
"No! No, Daddy, don't wanna!" she wailed, her face purple, tears soaking the front of her pajamas. She was clutching her Jellycat bunny to her chest like a shield, burying her nose into its plush fur.
"Lily, baby, please. Daddy just needs to listen to your lungs," Jack pleaded. He reached out to gently hold her shoulder, but she twisted away, sobbing harder. "Hey, look at me, princess. Look at Daddy. I need you to take a big breath for me."
"No! Go 'way! Mommy help!"
Across the room, you sat holding Luca tightly on your lap. He had abandoned his book on the counter; his small hands were now hooked securely into the collar of your shirt. He was staring at his sister with wide eyes, his own chest heaving in sync with her jagged breaths.
"Mama?" Luca whispered, his voice trembling as he leaned his head back against your shoulder. "Is Lily gonna be okay?"
"She's going to be fine, baby," you murmured, kissing the top of his head, though your eyes were locked on Jack’s stressed jawline. "Daddy is looking at her. He's going to fix it."
Luca shook his head, his tiny brow furrowing. "My tummy feels hot, Mama. Right here." He pressed a small hand against his center. "Like Lily's. She feels real bad. I can feel it."
The twin connection had always been something you joked about when they were toddlers, how they’d wake up at the exact same second or cry when the other fell, but tonight, looking at Luca’s pale face, it wasn't a joke.
He was absorbing her distress, carrying the ghost of her fever in his own quiet way.
Jack caught Luca's words and glanced over his shoulder. The sight of his son looking so small and frightened, paired with Lily’s hysterical crying, made a muscle twitch in his jaw.
He looked back at Lily and gently tried to check the lymph nodes in her neck.
"Don't!" Lily screamed, slapping at his hand with a sudden burst of frantic feverish energy. She kicked out, her foot catching Jack squarely in the chest.
Jack didn't even flinch at the impact, but he dropped his hands, letting out a defeated breath. He ran a hand through his hair, turning to look at you with absolute desperation in his eyes.
"Baby, her heart rate is too high, and I need to get blood draws, but she won't even let me look at her throat," Jack said, his voice dropping to a low whisper so he wouldn't scare her further. He looked completely helpless, a man torn between his medical training and his paternal instinct to just hold his crying daughter and make the world stop hurting. "I don't want to have to restrain her, but she’s burning up, and I need answers."
"Let me try," you said softly, trying to sound steady in the middle of the room’s rising panic.
Carefully easing Luca off your lap, you gave his hand a squeeze. "Stay right here with your book for a second, okay, buddy?" He nodded solemnly, sitting on the edge of the chair and hugging the book tight against his chest, his eyes never leaving his twin.
You walked over to the exam table and gently stepped into Jack’s space. He looked at you and stepped back just enough to let you through.
"Hi, my beautiful girl," you cooed. You didn't try to touch her right away. Instead, you smoothed down the ears of her bunny. "Bunny is so brave today, Lily. But Bunny told me he’s really tired, and he wants to rest."
Lily’s screaming hitched into little hiccups. She looked at you through tear soaked eyes. "B-Bunny is tired?"
"So tired," you murmured, gently scooping Lily up into your arms. The heat radiating off her small body struck you, making your chest tight with a surge of adrenaline. You sat down on the edge of the exam table, rocking her against your chest, burying your face in her hair. "You can hold Bunny, but you need to calm down so he can rest. We need you to take a big breath. Like we're blowing out birthday candles. Ready? Let's do it together."
Lily copied you, a shaky breath rattling in her chest. Slowly, the rigid tension in her muscles began to melt, her heavy head dropping onto your shoulder. She stopped fighting.
Jack didn't waste a second. He stepped back in. With you holding her still and whispering reassurances into her ear, he was finally able to check her throat, listen to her lungs, and gently feel the rash.
When it came time for the blood draw, you blocked Lily's view, pressing her face into your neck while Jack placed the needle. Lily cried out, a sharp heartbroken sound, but she didn't thrash.
"We're going to do some tests, ultrasounds, and the labs will be in an hour."
It felt like hours, though it was only forty five minutes, before Jack read the results, and the tension in his shoulders visibly shifted.
He approached you and, as he passed by a sleepy Luca he gently placed a hand on his head.
"The labs came back," Jack said, his voice quiet. He pulled up a stool and sat directly in front of you, taking Lily's limp hand in his. "It’s a severe bacterial infection, likely from something she came into contact with at the farm, compounded by an allergic reaction that triggered the rash. That’s why the fever spiked so fast."
You let out a breath.
"You can treat her, right, love? Give her medicine? Can we go home?"
Jack shook his head. "No. Because her fever is so high and she's dehydrated, I want her on continuous IV antibiotics and fluids overnight. Lena is already arranging a pediatric room upstairs for us. We're keeping her."
The word keeping felt wrong.
You just wanted to take your babies home.
You had managed to stay strong for the last hours, but the reality of spending the night in a hospital room broke through your defenses.
You tried to nod, tried to say okay, but your jaw trembled. You reached down to adjust the blanket over Lily, who had finally drifted into a restless medical sleep, and your hands were shaking so violently you couldn't grip the fabric.
A tear spilled over your lashes, tracking down your cheek.
Jack noticed instantly. He reached out, his hands wrapping completely over yours, capping the tremor.
"Hey, doll," he whispered, standing up. "She’s going to be okay. We caught it. We know exactly what it is, and we know how to fix it. But she need to stay a few hours."
"I was so scared, Jack," you choked out, your voice barely audible. "You weren't answering, and i didn't want to bother you neither, but she was so hot, and Luca was very anxious about coming here, you know how he feels about hospitals and I—"
"I know. I'm so sorry I wasn't there," Jack interrupted you, his own voice cracking as he tightened his grip on your trembling hands, kissing your forehead. "But I'm here now. I'm signing off my shift. I'm going upstairs with you, and I'm not leaving the room until they discharge her."
-
The pediatric room felt.. calm, some way. The steady sound of the monitors was finally pulling everyone into a sense of calm.
On the small pull out couch against the far wall, you sank deeply into the cushions, pulling a thin hospital blanket up to your chin. The absolute exhaustion of the night had finally caught up to you. Your muscles ached from hours of carrying the weight of a sick child.
You rested your head back, watching the scene unfold by the bedside.
Lily was tucked into the hospital bed, her color slowly returning to a normal pale. Her breathing was deep and even, one hand still draped over the ear of her Jellycat bunny.
Jack'd pulled a recliner right up against the edge of the hospital bed so he could stay within arm’s reach of his daughter.
Luca, having endured the terrifying night, was on his father's lap, looking over the bed rail. He had been so brave all night, and now that the danger had passed, he refused to leave his sister's side.
"She's sleeping," Luca whispered.
"She is, bud," Jack said as he reached up, gently lifting Luca so he could sit safely on the mattress edge, tucked against Lily’s side. "She’s resting, Lu. The medicine is doing its work."
Luca reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed a stray hair away from his sister’s forehead. He didn't pull away; he seemed to be checking the temperature for himself, satisfied that the fire was gone. Then, he did the sweetest thing: he carefully slid his own little hand into Lily’s, locking their fingers together.
"I knew what she was feeling... bad. Twin power," Luca whispered, a small proud smile touching his lips.
Jack let out a smile. He reached over, covering their joined hands with his own large, steady one. "Yeah, buddy. Twin power. She knows you're here. That’s why she’s resting so well."
"Is she having good dreams now, Daddy?" Luca whispered.
Jack leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Luca’s head, his hand sliding up to rub his son's back. "I think she is. Especially since you're holding her. You're keeping the bad dreams away."
Luca nodded seriously, accepting the job of taking care of his sister.
From the couch, you let out a breath. Jack’s gaze drifted away from the bed, his eyes searching the room until they found yours. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders finally relaxed against the cushions, completely spent.
He didn't speak, he didn't want to break the fragile quiet, but the look he gave you was filled with gratitude.
He mouthed a silent, 'I love you,' his eyes promising that he had the watch now. You could finally sleep.
You nodded, and mouthed an 'I love you,' back.
When the morning light filtered through the hospital blinds, the room was filled with the sound of plastic clattering, tiny giggles, and a familiar deep laugh.
You blinked against the light, shifting the scratchy blanket, and looked over at the bed.
Lily was sitting propped up against a mountain of pillows, the flushed fever entirely gone from her cheeks. She was in a fantastic mood, her eyes bright as she happily swung her unencumbered leg. Luca had abandoned his chair and was curled right up on the mattress beside her, the two of them sharing a massive hospital breakfast tray.
"Look, Lulu! A smiley face!" Lily chirped, pointing a syrup covered finger at a pancake.
"I like the bacon better," Luca replied, stuffing a piece into his mouth. The tattered Jellycat bunny was currently sitting between them, acting as a guest at their breakfast party.
Your heart swelled at the sight.
"Morning, my sleepyhead."
The voice came from beside you. You turned your head to find Jack sitting on the couch. At some point during the early morning hours, he must have slipped away from the bedside to join you, curling his frame around yours to keep you warm. His arms were wrapped securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He looked exhausted but the sheer relief radiating off him was palpable.
"Morning, handsome," you rasped. You shifted, turning in his embrace so you could look up at him. "How long have they been up? How is she?"
"About an hour," Jack murmured, leaning down to press a warm kiss to your cheek. His hands slid under the blanket, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back to work out the knots from the stiff couch. "The pediatric team came in at six. Her vitals are perfect, the rash is fading, and her bloodwork is clearing up. We're getting discharged after lunch."
"Thank you," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his collarbone. "For taking care of her. For being here."
Jack tightened his grip on you, burying his face in your messy hair, inhaling deeply. "You're the one who calmed her down, sweetheart. You were incredible. I'm just sorry I wasn't there from the start."
"You're here now," you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, tender, deeply affectionate kiss, a quiet celebration that the storm had passed.
"Eww, Daddy and Mommy are kissing!"
A high pitched giggle broke the silence. You both pulled apart, laughing, to see Lily and Luca staring at you from the bed.
Jack didn't let you go, keeping you tucked securely against his side as he looked over at the twins with a bright smile. "Well, Mama deserves all the kisses of the world. And as soon as you two finish those pancakes, you're next."
The twins erupted into giggles, turning back to their breakfast tray, completely happy to have their world back to normal.
True to Jack’s word, the discharge papers were signed and ready after lunch. You left the hospital with Luca for a while, to change into something clean and to dress Lily in new clothes after they removed her IV. Inside the room, the atmosphere shifted the moment a knock sounded at the door.
A nurse entered, holding a small tray with medical tape remover, gauze, and a colorful bandage. "Hi there, Lily! I'm just here to take that little straw out of your arm so you can go home."
The moment Lily saw the tray, her eyes went wide. The residual trauma of the frantic night rushed back all at once. She scrambled backward on the hospital bed, her back hitting the headboard as she tucked her arm tightly against her chest.
"No! No more needles! Daddy!" she cried, her voice cracking as tears instantly flooded her eyes. She reached out blindly with her free hand, grabbing the ear of her Jellycat bunny and squeezing it like a lifeline. "I want Mama! No needles!"
"Hey, princess, come here," Jack said instantly. He stepped right up to the side of the bed and climbing onto the mattress with her. He pulled her trembling body directly into his lap, wrapping his arms around her so she felt completely safe. "There are no more needles, Lily. I promise you. The nurse is just taking it off."
"It's gonna hurt!" she sobbed, burying her face into Jack’s shirt.
"I'm going to hold you the whole time," Jack murmured. He gently coaxed her arm out, holding her hand firmly but gently, keeping her fingers locked in his so she couldn't pull away or look at what the nurse was doing. "Do you remember the story Luca was reading last weekend? About the animals going to the sea?"
Lily gave a hiccuping nod against his chest.
"What color was the boat?" Jack asked softly, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, creating a soothing friction to distract her.
"R-Red," she whispered.
"That's right. And who was on the boat?" Jack kept his voice low and conversational, nodding to the nurse, who moved with efficiency. She applied the tape remover, peeling back the plastic dressing smoothly.
"A bear," Lily snuffled, her grip tightening on Jack’s fingers as she felt the tape lift. "And-And a... a p-pig."
"And a pig. Good job," Jack praised, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. He could feel her tiny heart racing against his ribs, but she wasn't thrashing. "Look at that, almost done, brave girl."
The nurse smiled warmly, pressing a bright pink patterned bandage over the tiny puncture site. "All done! You were so brave, sweetie."
Lily blinked, sniffing hard as she looked down at her arm. The scary tube was gone. She let out a breath and looked up at Jack, her eyes still watery but the panic entirely gone. "Stings. Didn't hurt."
"See? Daddy told you," Jack smiled as he wiped a tear from her cheek. He squeezed her tight, rocking her for a long moment. "You're all done, princess. Let's wait for Mom and Luca for come back so we can go home."
A few minutes later, the door pushed open. "We're back!" Luca announced proudly, stepping into the room first.
You followed close behind, carrying a tote bag. You had slipped home for forty five minutes while Jack handled the discharge paperwork, giving you and Luca just enough time to wash off and change out of your rumpled clothes. Now, you were holding a pair of clean, tiny denim overalls and a bright yellow t-shirt for Lily, a replacement for her pajamas.
The moment the door opened, Lily snapped her head around. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs, looking entirely renewed.
"Mama! Look!" Lily squealed, scrambling off the mattress before Jack could even catch her.
She sprinted across the room, her bare feet pattering against the linoleum floor, and skidded to a halt right in front of you. She thrust her left forearm directly into your face, pointing proudly to a bright pink heart patterned bandage.
"The nurse gave me a heart band!" Lily beamed, all the terror of the needle completely forgotten. "And Daddy held my hand the whole time and it didn't even hurt, and the bad straw is gone!"
"Oh, wow! Look at that," you laughed, dropping to your knees so you were eye level with her. You gently pressed a kiss right next to the bandage, making her giggle. "That is the cutest bandage I’ve ever seen. You are so brave, my girl."
Jack stepped up behind her, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He caught your eye over Lily's head, a soft smirk playing on his lips. He gave you a subtle nod that let you know the IV removal had been a success, despite the initial tears.
"I'm brave too, right Mama?" Luca asked, tapping your arm. He was wearing his favorite superhero shirt now. "I kept the bad dreams away last night with twin power."
"The bravest," you promised, pulling him into a one armed hug.
"Yeah! Twin power!" Lily cheered. She suddenly grabbed Luca’s hand, her mood completely doing a 180 from the crying toddler of the night before. Now that she was free of the wires and the fever, her baseline four year old energy was back. "Luca! Come look at the big truck out the window! Hurry!"
"A truck?!" Luca’s eyes went wide.
Before you or Jack could even utter a word of caution, Lily dropped her Jellycat bunny onto the floor, spun on her heel, and the two of them bolted out the open door of the hospital room, their laughter echoing down the hallway toward the playroom windows.
You stayed on your knees for a second, staring at the empty doorway, then slowly stood up. You looked at the tattered bunny on the floor, then turned to look at your husband.
Jack stood there, a stray piece of medical tape stuck to his pants, his hair wildly messy, and his shoulders slumped in utter exhaustion.
He stared at the empty hallway, blinked, and then let out a chuckle.
"Well," Jack murmured, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked over to scoop up the abandoned stuffed animal. "Her energy levels seem back to normal."
"Yeah," you laughed softly as he wrapped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his neck. "I think she’s officially fine."
Summary: Having returned from a long mission for the New Republic, Din shows you how much he missed you.
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship (married), some domestic fluff, Mando’a nicknames, lingerie, roughish sex, marking, helmet comes off but armour stays ON, unprotected PiV, dirty talk, Breeding Kink where did you come from?
A/N: Aside from the bit at the beginning that continues directly from the end of the finale (True Love Never Has To Hide), this is just them boinking, so can be read standalone! ENJOY MY FELLOW HORNEE DIN WIVES (GN), I LOVE YOU! 😘
Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist/ Title by Justine Skye, inspo lyrics at the end
Migs Mayfeld may just be the single most entertaining dinner guest the palace has ever hosted. Even Din cannot keep from occasionally enjoying his antics; though no sounds of laughter escape his expressionless helmet, you catch the periodic shake of the Mandalorian’s armour that gives him away.
That’s not to say your riduur’s defenses have lowered completely; for the entirety of the meal, Din rests a covetous hand on your thigh, tensing and squeezing whenever Mayfeld’s tales of daring heists, narrow escapes, and colourful characters in the Outer Rim skirt the line of propriety, bordering on unsavoury, criminal.
In an effort to try and calm your ever vigilant husband, you offer him soft, reassuring smiles and rub the back of his gloved hand with gentle, soothing strokes - your sensibilities aren’t quite as delicate as your title might suggest and Din knows that. You’re well aware that before working for the New Republic, Din was less discerning about his bounty hunting assignments, taking whatever came his way from The Guild. And before joining The Guild? Well… Din’s told you enough about his younger days for you to imagine him a little reckless, a bit brutish, maybe even unsavoury, criminal, himself. You loved the very thought of it.
After Grogu has his fill of dinner and Din returns from stepping away to eat alone, the meal concludes with a hearty toast to your guest of honour and possible future citizen of Solana.
Giddy on the dual high from tonight’s reverie and the joy of having your husband home after nearly three long weeks away, you hum to yourself happily as you and Din lead Mayfeld to his guest quarters. The bald-headed man marvels at the opulence and beauty of your ancestral home, frequently stopping to admire and compliment the skill and craftsmanship of the Solanians whose sculptures and paintings decorate the halls.
His eyes nearly fall out of his head when shown his room, for the first time tonight (likely his life, thinks Din) Mayfeld is speechless.
As unexpectedly pleasant as his reunion with Mayfeld has been, Din is eager to be alone with you, reunite with the wife he’s dreamt of every night for the past several weeks. Hastily, he bids his old acquaintance goodnight, ready to sprint off to his marital bedchambers with you in tow, but to his surprise, you sweetly ask, “Din, would you mind giving Migs and I a few minutes alone?”
Eyebrows raised beneath his helmet, Din nonetheless acquiesces – he trusts you and he knows you know he won’t be far; with a squeeze to your hand and a quick head tilt to Mayfeld, he disappears down the hall.
Mayfeld isn’t sure why the Princess of Solana would need to speak to him in private, but he takes the opportunity to thank you and your father again for your hospitality and to rave once more about the splendour of his accommodations.
You wave your hand to indicate that’s it’s nothing, “There’s no need for such courtesy, really – it’s our pleasure to have you as our guest! I meant what I said earlier, please stay with us as long as you need.”
“Your generosity is incomparable, Your Highness,” Mayfeld shakes his head in marvel, “I see now where Solana gets its reputation as one of the friendliest, most welcoming planets in the galaxy.”
“That’s really so kind,” you purposefully let the air between you and the man sit noticeably silent for a moment before continuing, “My husband trusts you. Do you know what a gift that is?”
Mayfeld nods, it’s truly beyond him how his relationship with Mando has evolved to bring him here within these castle walls as a guest (and not in shackles), “I do, Your Highness. Believe me, no one is more grateful than I am to have the Big Guy on my side.”
“You misunderstand me,” your eyes crinkle with emotional as you reach out to take the man’s hands in yours, grasping them firmly, “his trust in you is a gift to Din.”
Mayfeld doesn’t understand; he blinks at you with a confused and slightly apologetic look and sees you looking back at him kindly still, but there’s a glint in your eyes that kicks up his pulse a notch.
“In my husband’s line of work, being betrayed and double crossed is often par for the course. To be a bounty hunter is to be constantly on guard, to expect duplicity from those that claim to be friends, to be repeatedly reminded that many choose lives of greed, selfishness, callousness,” your expression turns somewhat sad, “and yet, Din remains good, Mr. Mayfeld - I think you would attest to that. He is honourable, decent, never cruel; those who cross his path can always count on him to do what’s right. Every time. It’s these very qualities of his that I first fell in love with.”
Though you brighten a little at this last thought, Mayfeld can’t help but notice that you’ve reverted back to a more formal honorific for him - heralding a serious turn for this conversation, a warning maybe.
“Can you imagine being such a man and remaining true to your convictions, all while surrounded by, working with, fighting against or for people who wouldn’t think twice about leaving you for dead, stealing from you, shortchanging you, or worse?” your gaze is fixed pointedly on Mayfeld now and he knows it isn’t his imagination when he sees a spark of indignation igniting within your irises; their flame remains a low flicker, thankfully, as you sigh, “It must be absolutely exhausting. To remain on high alert, always bracing oneself for the worst, and still hold out hope for people to be better… only to be repeatedly let down and disappointed. It might even wear on a person’s soul.”
“Being able to trust someone, rely on someone, have faith in that someone… that is a gift to a man like Din. There are not many in this galaxy who can offer my husband that type of peace, who he would allow to shoulder some of the weight he carries. Mr. Mayfeld, it is a commendable person indeed, who is deemed trustworthy by a man for whom trust is harder to come by than the Beskar he wears; so again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you’ve given the General.”
“Please, Your Highness, call me Mig-” Mayfeld trails off, noticing that while your smile remains friendly, your eyes have grown sharper, shrewd… the fire is back. “Mr. Mayfeld, Migs,” you smile, acknowledging that you heard him, “I have only one request of you while you remain here as our guest: please do not lose my husband’s trust. Please do not do anything that would make him feel that his faith in you has been misplaced.”
“Your Highness, you can trust me,” Mayfeld means it. Even if you were not royalty, he would be a fool to lie to you; your seemingly docile demeanour carries with it an air of grace and congeniality, but Mayfeld spies a glimpse of the force that lies beneath, of a woman whose intelligence and tenacity should not be underestimated. He can see why Mando loves you.
“And you can trust me, as well,” you promise, “Trust that for anything you need or desire, anything within these halls you covet, be it jewels, riches - if it is within my power to give, and there are very few things in Solana beyond my reach, it will be yours. You need but ask the price for my husband’s peace of mind, I will happily pay.” Though you’re no longer smiling, your tone and manner still ring genuine and true, “Even with all that’s he’s seen and survived, Din still believes in decency and that there are those deserving of his trust; the good that belief does his soul is more precious to me than any treasure in my possession. I will say it again, please… just ask. My title and authority grant me great privilege and access not only here on Solana but with our trade and diplomatic allies across the galaxy; my word carries enormous weight and can open unimaginable doors… or close them.”
You straighten, regal and defiant, leaving no room for misinterpretation of your words, “Mr. Mayfeld, my crown bestows upon me the honour of wielding power and favour for the benefit of my people and those I care for most deeply… and also the duty to protect them to the fullest extent of my sovereignty. I take both these charges very seriously.”
“I understand, Your Highness,” Mayfeld nods his head not only in agreement, but in deference, “I owe a lot to Mando and truly wish him nothing but the best and… peace of mind, as you put it. He’s in no danger from me… and neither are you or anyone here on Solana, I promise. Though, to be honest, I can’t imagine you afraid of anyone, Princess.”
The man chuckles nervously and you decide to put him put him out of his misery - your point has been made and he is your guest after all; tone and expression both softening, you chirp with good humour, “It’s a lot easier to be courageous when your husband is a Mandalorian who commands the armed forces of an entire nation.” The smile returns to your eyes, “I happily extend the security he provides to you tonight, Migs, and wish you a restful night’s sleep. See you in the morning for breakfast!”
You bid one another a mutually fond goodnight; once your guest closes his door, you hurry down the hall in search of Din. The sight that greets you at the foot of the stairs to the West wing nearly sends you into a full out swoon: your riduur looking broad and sure, casually leaning against a wall with his beefy arms crossed, waiting with patience and presence. Pushing off the wall at his wife’s appearance, Din steps forward with open arms, sweeping you into a cinematic embrace more suited for lovers reuniting after years apart, not minutes; he listens contently to your happy little hum as it vibrates the Beskar on his chest and pretends he wasn’t listening in on your entire conversation with Mayfeld.
His feisty cyar’ika, subtly threatening a man while offering him the full breadth of your influence and generosity. He knows you know he heard everything.
The two of you peek in on Grogu on the way back to your bedchambers; finding him already fast asleep from a full stomach and the excitement of the day. You’re just trying to tear yourself away from planting one last kiss in a never-ending series of kisses to the top of your son’s snoozing head when you hear Din’s light-hearted scoff.
“Mesh’la. How many new toys did you buy him?”
You look over to see your Mandalorian holding up a pair of matching blurrg stuffies, “Those are handmade!”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Din chuckles, then gestures to a variety of other toys and trinkets that litter your son’s room, many of which he’s never seen before.
Taking the blurrgs from Din and placing them gently next to your sleeping son, you lead your husband out of the room before he can make any more comments, “You were gone a long time, my love. I missed my son. I missed you both.”
A strong arm bands around your waist and pulls you tight into the General’s side - you gasp, delighted as the top of his helmet nudges and tilts your head, exposing the side of your neck. In a move so swift you barely have time to register it, Din lifts his helmet just far enough to seal a hot and lingering kiss to the warm skin above your collar bone; the suck of your husband’s mouth is so seductive, you nearly stumble from the heat sparking between your legs - Din’s strong grip keeps you steady as he continues to mark you with his lips.
“I missed you too, cyare,” he purrs into your neck, tongue laving over the spot reddened by his mouth.
The honey drip of Din’s baritone, coupled with the eagerness of his hard hands biting into your body, are so distracting you barely notice how fast the two of you are walking – surprise painted all over your pretty face when you suddenly find yourself at the entrance to your chambers. Regaining some clarity, you push open the door before spinning around to grab the front of Din’s leather gun belt with both hands – moving backwards into the room, you tug him in after you.
Two successive bangs can be heard in short order. The first from the door that Din kicks closed behind him; the second, less loud and not as violent but shakes the room nonetheless, from the force with which he slams the helmet ripped off his head onto the nearest chair.
Then he’s on top of you - armour crowding your body, mouth crashed to yours to reclaim what’s been lost to him for the past few weeks. Hungry, Din licks in, chasing you to every corner of your mouth, his tongue lassoes and strokes yours into submission so he can properly savour the sweet taste he’s missed so much. Melting against his hard Beskar, you surrender to the sinful worship of the General’s mouth; he unapologetically swallows every one of your heady moans, devouring each and every single whimpering sigh.
His hands are equally as fervent, nimble fingers flying over the back of your dress, undoing laces and buttons with such urgency you think he might as well just rip the entire thing open. Giggling at his eagerness, you feel Din’s smile against yours, “You know what’s funny, Din?”
Nuzzling the slope of his aquiline nose down your cheek, the General grins, “What, cyare?”
“When Migs told us the Brown Eyes story…”
“You’re thinking about Mayfeld right now?” Din snips at your jaw in mock disbelief.
Having managed to sufficiently loosen your gown, your husband begins to pull it down your body, attention divided between your figure and your words; “No, listen,” your laugh remains airy and melodic even as you fight the urge to moan, “His story reminded me there’s an entire group of people who have seen your face. Mayfeld is just one more person to add to everyone on that light cruiser bridge. And here I was, thinking I’m special.” You slip from Din’s grasp to take a few steps back, purposefully crossing your arms and pushing up your breasts, making the tops tumble from your partially pulled down dress even more whorishly; you pout, dramatic, bratty, and not at all serious.
Din’s jaw ticks at sight of your tits on display, but when he steps forward, his touch is gentle and sweet; dancing his fingers lightly over the back of your arms, he reaches past your shoulder to lovingly massage the nape of your neck, “Cyar’ika, every single one of those people saw my face because I took my helmet off for Grogu; the reveal was not for them. When you see my face, it’s because I choose to bare myself to you.”
Oh. Your arms fly around Din’s thick neck and you kiss him furiously – Maker, you love this man so much; it tickles you to no end that his opponents on the battlefield will never know that this fearsome warrior loves even more fiercely than he fights. The General strips you of your remaining dress layers as he walks the two of you backwards towards the bed, leaving your luxurious silks in a heap on the floor. When the back of your legs hit the bedframe, Din’s strong hands lift and push you up on the bed; you land with a squeak and a bounce.
It’s only when you look up from readjusting the straps of your lingerie and tugging the cups to sit properly over your jiggling breasts, that you notice Din has gone dead silent - the man stands perfectly still except for the rapid rise and fall of Beskar from the heaviness of his beathing.
“What’s this, Princess?”
You grin cheekily and lay back further on the bed, angling your body to best show off the lacy one-piece, “A welcome home present, General.” The delicate fabric that hugs your curves is made up of an intricately stitched floral pattern that just barely covers your most intimate parts - and is sheer enough to leave nothing to the imagination; you run your hands down the front of your body, shifting the lace when your nails lightly catch on the fine threads so that your nipples play peek-a-boo with your husband’s blown out pupils.
For all that he does for the New Republic, for Solana, for you, you give the Mandalorian the show he so richly deserves. Throwing your head back, you arch and let out increasingly breathy sighs as your hands travel lower and lower, drawing Din’s gaze to the highlight of your barely-there outfit: the cut of lace ends over the apex of your thighs in a perfect V-shape, and at its tip, in place of the gusset is a string of veda pearls. You finger the row of lustrous gems, slippery and shining with your arousal, cooing as your body jumps from their hardness rolling over your clit, “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I’m about to rip it off with my teeth,” Din tosses his gloves to the ground and pounces. Giggling, you squeal as his hot mouth close over your breast, exploring and vigorously mouthing your plush curves; he tugs at the lingerie, greedy for more of your tits while you writhe beneath his touch, “Din, be gentle! I had this imported from Chandrila!”
The great warrior gentles to a nibble and smirks, your pert nipple and its lace caught between his teeth like a loth cat with a treat, “You wore this all day? Even to the library?”
You nod, smiling mischievously and thinking back to how the smooth polish of the pearls had brushed up against your exposed cunt all day. That erotic sensation, coupled with the anticipation of your husband’s imminent return had every nerve ending in your body buzzing with a low electric thrum for most of the day, its current simmering and building steadily until the point of almost boiling over now, “I didn’t know the exact time of your return. I wanted to be ready.”
Din slides two thick fingers along the string of pearls, pressing down to nestle them in your folds. You’re already dripping with desire, easily coating the decorative jewels and your riduur’s fingers in your mess; at the feel of your obvious arousal, he growls, “You feel ready to me, Princess.”
“I’ve been wet for you all day, General,” you whine, spreading your legs wider in invitation - it's been so long since you've been thoroughly fucked.
“Naughty Princess,” Din smirks, descending to kiss that sweet spot behind your ear, the one that never fails to make you keen – you deliver the sweet, filthy sounds he’s after as he continues sucking down the column of your throat. One titan hand gropes your heaving breasts, caressing your perfect curves, pinching and rolling your perked nipples through the lace fabric, while the other remains perfectly content playing with your sopping pussy. The General skates the rough pads of his fingers along your seam, toying and plucking at the strand of pearls with the skill of a musician playing his well practiced instrument; he’s rock hard and leaking, but simply will not hurry – too mesmerized by the sight of the precious gems bouncing against your clit, and the way you gush and squirm against his palm in response. You thought him being away for so long was the real agony, but this comes close - you need Din’s restraint to snap, you need him inside, you need him to handle you like one of his bounties. You need him.
“Din, please…” this slow and reverent pace feels like the most sinful of tortures; having already waited several weeks for your husband’s cock, you have no more patience to spare, “… more. I need more, please!”
The Mandalorian grins roguishly, his fingers lazily stroking through your folds while your begging cries go unheeded, “You told me to be gentle, Princess.”
“Gentle with the lace, Din, not with me,” you practically sob, pretty eyes flashing, desperate and pleading.
“If not gentle, then rough? Is that what you want, Wife?”
“I want you to fuck me so the whole castle knows my husband’s home,” you command, distressed, not as a Princess, but a wife whose cunt needs filling.
Unable to ever deny you, Din wordlessly climbs off to stand at the foot of the bed; reaching forward, he grabs onto the fat of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh to effortlessly pull you towards him. The Mandalorian chuckles at your little yelp of surprise as he lifts your legs and places your ankles on the cool rims of his shoulder pauldrons, leaving your ass almost hanging off the edge of the bed.
You pout and whine the entire time he’s positioning your body, twisting and arching to try and get closer to Din’s broadness, closer to what you really want. You’re being purposefully petulant and impatient, hoping it’ll push your husband over the edge, leaving him no choice but to utterly wreck and ruin you.
Din stares down at the pinnacle of your open legs, licking his lips as he takes out his cock; his hind brain urges him to taste your honey, craving the feel of your needy hole fluttering around his tongue, but your strained croak of his name reminds the General that he has his orders.
With a quick kiss to the inside of your ankle, the Mandalorian tuts, “Needy little thing, aren’t you, Your Highness?” then slams his cock deep into your cunt, bottoming out with one unrelenting drive of his hips, giving you no time to adjust to his size.
You let loose an incoherent and animalistic howl as Din pushes your tight walls to their limit, body welcoming him home while fighting the sting of his stretch. He’s so big, you have to hold your breath; his girth so overwhelming you feel him in your guts. Din waits for you to calm and the clutch of your pussy to give a little; he strokes your calves with his wide, warm palms and lovingly lays a mosaic of kisses to your ankles – the gentle manhandling of your legs causes your pearl thong to roll over your clit repeatedly, instantly soothing away the last vestiges of discomfort.
“Din,” you finally breathe, eyes already glazing over, cock drunk, “I need you to please move.”
He does more than move. Your Mandalorian dominates.
Din’s pace is immediately furious - every stroke of his cock, deep and unforgiving, his tip punching into you without mercy. Any instinct to run is quelled by the hand that wraps tightly around one of your legs, holding you in place while the other leg bounces wildly against Din’s chest plate with every one of his forceful thrusts. The General’s free hand reaches to pull down the cups of your lingerie, exposing your tits to his greedy gaze.
Crying out as your riduur roughly gropes your breasts and flicks your nipples, you grab on to Din’s forearms for something, anything, to ground yourself amidst his relentless pounding. And to ensure he doesn’t stop.
“Din! Feels so good! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” your words come out ragged and uneven.
“Never going to stop, Princess. Missed this pussy so bad.”
His hips pick up speed to prove his words. The thick of his cock has been repeatedly pushing aside the pearls of your lingerie as Din fucks into your drooling hole and he finds the roll of the hard gems against his shaft a titillating contrast to the warm clench of your cunt. The General pulls out nearly all the way before each possessive plunge back into the depths of his own personal heaven - my home, my home, my home, my wife – leaving only the tip of his swollen head to plug your wet, slippery entrance.
You would loudly decry each time he teases you with the near loss of his cock, were it not for that same strand of pearls springing back to snap against your clit - indignation abandoned for pleasure as the band of gemstones vibrates over your own throbbing pearl. The mind-blowing sensation winds you higher and higher, nearly floating you out of your body, until you have to crash land back to reality when Din slams all the way into you again without warning.
The pleasure is almost too much, too fast. Almost.
“Missed this cock, Din! Missed you… oh, I missed you, missed you…” you chant mindlessly as your body is rocked hard, conquered and claimed by the relentless warrior in Beskar.
“Did you miss me, mesh’la?” Din teases, he kisses your ankles again, snipping at them lightly with his teeth, pace unfaltering, stamina seemingly limitless, “Maybe next time I go away for a mission, I leave a part of me behind with you.”
You gasp at what Din might be suggesting; unable to think straight and so turned on, you grasp wildly at your chest, massaging your tits, pinching and pulling at your own nipples; the welcomed sting to your peaks lifts your back off the mattress to bow towards your husband, sucking him in deeper, "Are you going to fill up your wife until it sticks, General?”
Din’s mind floods with images of you glowing with a sweet round belly, breasts plump and spilling out of your royal dresses, walking around Solana on his arm with everyone knowing he’s the proud father. He could take you to Nevarro, Mandalore, Coruscant even, to show off his beautiful, knocked up wife; anywhere you went in the Core Worlds and beyond, you would be carrying proof that you were a Mandalorian’s riduur, that one of his Creed had filled you with his warrior seed… and it took.
These thoughts spur Din’s hips to snap faster, punishing tempo taking you to new heights.
“That’s what you want, cyare? You want me to fuck you full and give Solana an heir?”
Din’s unrepentant hammering prevents you from forming the words, so you flop your head the best you can, nodding to the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin and the wet squelch of your cunt echoing off the walls.
“I’m going to get you all nice and round with my warriors, mesh’la.”
“Fill you up so the whole galaxy knows you’re mine.”
“Yes, yes, yours, yours,” you sing, your own blissful thoughts running wild: Din’s wide palms covering your growing belly, a little one with rich chocolate brown eyes and soft wavy curls like your husband… and maybe another… and another, “Yes, I want to have your warriors! Please, yes!”
“If that’s want you want, Princess…” the Mandalorian leaves you to play with your luscious breasts so both of his hands can grab a leg and pull you even closer, lifting your lower half off the bed as he continues to ram into your welcoming hole, “we’ll give Grogu a kih’vod (younger sibling) and make us a clan of four.”
“More, more… more!” You beg for everything, for things you don’t even know.
At this angle, the thigh plates of Din’s armour slap against your ass with every one of Din’s powerful drives; your cheeks start to turn a bright shade of red from the ruthless spanking. The brutishness of your husband’s dominion over your body is such a stark contrast to the sweetness of his sentiments, the idea of growing your family. With every smack of your supple flesh, your heart blossoms and your pussy clamps down, releasing a fresh wave of slick down Din’s length.
“My greedy wife wants more? I’ll give you more, my Princess.”
“I’ll fuck you so full, Clan Mudhorn will overrun the galaxy.”
“Mesh’la, tell me you want me to bend you in half and fuck a baby into you.”
The squeeze of your cunt and the arch of your body tell him everything he needs to know; Din picks up the pace something feral. He grips onto your ankles with the same pressure he does the throttle of his starfighter, knowing that dark bruises in the shape of his hands will bloom on your legs tomorrow. Biting matching marks into your calves with his canines, Din listens in satisfaction as you continue to wail to the stars outside: your realm’s great warrior, your riduur, your true love is home – and he’s splitting you in half. You know you’ll be sore tomorrow, but every ache is worth it, every dark blemish on your flawless skin a reminder of the General’s desire and lust for you. You’ll proudly wear tonight’s souvenirs, and when they fade, you’ll shamelessly begged your husband to honour you with more.
Your filthy song carries down the castle corridors and possibly even to the Capital, growing louder still as Din opens you up more, pounding away in his unyielding conquest of your body; he takes great pride in the ecstasy he sees written all over your beautiful face - you’re close, he can tell. Hypnotized, Din stares, pupils blown, at where your bodies join and your arousal drenched pussy wraps around his monster cock, leaving a ring of cream at its base as you suck him in over and over.
He nearly comes at the sight.
Dropping a leg so he can snake a hand down your body, Din tugs to recentering the strand of veda pearls, fingering the brilliant jewels before pressing them down onto your clit, rolling them over your sensitive bud in a circular pattern until you nearly cry from overstimulation.
“I’m close, General! Please, please, I’m so close!” your sign to Din to press the beads down harder and add the rough callous of his thumb, alternating the feel of smooth, cool gems and his warm digit swiping over your puffy clit.
“Come for me, Princess. Come for me and I’ll stuff you so full you’ll be carrying my cum for months.”
You explode. The squeeze of your perfect pussy proves too much for even a Mandalorian warrior’s strength; Din thinks of how fiercely protective you were over him with Mayfeld earlier, how much of a protective mama bear you’ll be to your child, and what a good mother you already are to Grogu - coming with a roar and spilling deep inside the truest home he’s ever known.
Both sated and spent, Din sets you back gently onto the bed, lowering himself and tucking you into the safety of his arms as you both come down from your twin highs. When he reluctantly pulls out, you whine from the loss and shiver at the feel of the General’s cum leaking from your used hole and coating your inner thighs and the luxurious pearls of your lingerie with his spend. Din pulls you in closer, humming happily into your hair before tipping your pretty, blissed out face to look at him.
“Mesh’la, what was said just now,” soft kisses pepper your cheeks and eyelids, “I want you to know I meant every word, but I won’t ever pressure you. It’s only something I want if and when you’re ready.”
You beam, molding yourself to Din’s Beskar; to the rest of the galaxy, this steel is hard and near indestructible, its shine alone imposing and intimidating - but to you, Mandalorian armour is warm not cold, a symbol of comfort and safety, perfect for cuddling up next to, “I want it too, Din. I’ll let you know when I’m ready, I promise. Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar, General.”
“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar, Princess.” Something unnamed awakens in your Mandalorian, his heartrate picking up as an image of his son walking hand and hand with a sibling with your eyes and smile flashes, ballooning his heart so large it presses up against his silver armour. Feeling Din’s chest expand, you raise your head to look at him lovingly, taking a moment to caress his handsome features with gentle and affectionate fingers before wordlessly extricating yourself from his embrace and slipping out of bed.
After a few steps you turn to look at your riduur; Din’s still fully armoured frame, too broad for words, powerful even when relaxed is now lifted onto his elbows while his handsome face looks at you, adorably quizzical. You’ll never tire of how your husband manages to take your breath away, his one cocked eyebrow and devastating smile would be enough to send entire legions crashing to their knees, you’re sure – for the sake of peace in the galaxy it’s probably a good thing that only a few lucky beings with ever have the privilege of seeing Din unmasked.
“Din, do you remember earlier when I said I would feel better after checking you over for injuries myself?”
At his nod, you push the lingerie bunched beneath your breasts down past your hips and let the naughty garment drop in a pile at your feet, the glistening pearl thong the last to land, coiling into a loose swirl on top, “Come make me feel better, General.”
Din watches as your alluring curves sashay away from him and the sheen of your naked body disappears into the fresher; leaping up and out of the bed, he grins to himself, breaking into a jog to follow, “As you wish, Princess.”
🎶Collide by Justine Skye🎶:
I know you think that you know me
But you ain't even seen my dark side
It's reserved for you only
So, baby, do it right, do me right
We can go all the time
We can move fast, then rewind
When you put your body on mine
And collide, collide
It could be one of those nights
Where we don't turn off the lights
Wanna see your body on mine
And collide, collide
Baby, it's all yours if you want me, all yours if you want me
Put it down if you want me, tonight
Said it's all yours if you want me, all yours if you want me
Put it down if you want me, let's collide
Tagging a few lovelies that left nice comments on the Finale, thanks babes (gn) 🥹🥹 @baronessvonglitter @oolongreads @bishtrouille @derangedangel @sawymredfox
summary: you go on ELLE Magazine’s ‘phoning it in’ segment to prank call some of your friends, but how does harry, your fiancée, react to you prank calling him?
pairing: current!harrystyles x fem!reader
a/n: i literally wrote this in like an hour so it might suck BUT i needed to bring this to life! i loooove phoning it in, so i was cheesing the entire time i wrote this omg. lmk yalls thoughts and if anyone has ideas lmk🫰🥹
word count: 1.8k
the lights are bright on Elle Magazine’s “Phoning it in” set.
there’s faint music playing from an overhead speaker that drowns out the sound of the hum from the lights and shoes squeaking against the shiny floor every once in a while.
you’re currently sat on the little white seat your friends have sat in as your hair and makeup team give you some last minute touch ups in between the phone calls.
as you sit there, you open instagram to watch videos of harry’s opening night in wembley stadium, biting the tip of your pastel colored nail when you see his outfit, before eventually closing out of the app and going back to being present in the moment with the rest of the crew.
when you set your phone down, you giggle at your friend’s reactions to your prank calling
the energy on set is great.
everyone’s been so sweet to you ever since you walked into the large studio, and you can tell everyone genuinely loves working here.
there’s girls talking and looking at what’s probably a schedule on an ipad, the camera operator making small adjustments, your assistant silently keeping an eye out to make sure everything runs smoothly, and other staff that just want to see the prank calls unravel.
you’ve fallen victim to being prank called by some of your friends before, so you were very excited to be doing the pranks and finally not getting the burnt end of the stick.
so far, you’ve called suki waterhouse, asking if you can go grocery shopping in her fridge since you left your wallet at home and need food for a party you’re hosting, charli xcx, asking for tips as you want to seriously start a DJ career,
though charli saw through your shit immediately.
“babe you’ve never been into djing like that, why are you being weird? are you doing that damn elle prank call thing?”
your manager, saying that you want to quit acting, rachel sennot, saying that you hit her costar josh hutcherson with your car while trying to make a U-Turn, and now you’re about to call harry.
you and harry got engaged 4 months ago, after having been together since 2022, you both decided the time was right, despite his tour lasting for the rest of the year. unfortunate for you, since you miss him.
but! you’re due to join him in the next few days, so you’re just finishing up some last minute interviews here in LA as promo for your most recent project. after this, your schedule is completely free to see harry on tour until december.
harry knows you’re here, because you mistakenly told him a few nights ago, so you really need to focus and put your acting skills to use.
that oscar nomination last award show season wasn’t for nothing
that’s why, you’re flipping through the small notebook filled with potential pranks trying to find the perfect prank to pull on him. if you say something too big, he’s not going to believe it, but you also want a reaction out of him.
ask him to join love island with you?
no
tell him you crashed your car and now you’re hanging off a cliff?
waaay to extreme
ask him if you can collab with him on a song?…
we all know harry doesn’t do collabs.
ever.
so, when you show it to your team, and when they all start giggling, imagining harry’s reaction and knowing damn well you can’t sing, you know that’s the one.
your eyes drift towards the time in the top left corner of your phone
2:19 pm LA time
so it’s 10:19 pm for harry in london, you think, quickly thinking of the time difference and circumstance
“wait but he just got off stage not too long ago. should i still call?”
your team is walking back to stand behind the camera while you glance around at the people on set asking for their opinion as you trace your tongue along your gums.
you really don’t want to wake him if he’s asleep, but you reeeally want to prank him.
“your call, but it should be fine” you hear your assistant say as she stands off to the side. she’s heard you talk about harry’s schedule so much that she basically has it memorized.
“mmmm, okay” you say to yourself as you think, blotting your lipstick, moving your hair forward, and adjusting your rings as you wait for your queue.
as you wait, you’re smiling and giggling in your seat under the warm lighting like a schoolgirl with a secret as you think of harry’s reaction.
someone behind the camera gives you a countdown and thumbs up after a few minutes, your queue to start, and you immediately put your “customer service” voice, as you call it, on.
“okay so next, i think i’m going to call my fiancée… if he answers ” you say smiling softly to yourself as you unlock your phone. (you take every chance you get to refer to him as your “fiancée”)
you sit there, letting it ring on speaker, expecting to hear, a “hi darling” or a “hi angel” but instead, all you hear is an automated “the mailbox is full and cannot except messages at this time.”
your jaw drops and everyone starts laughing
“guys cut that that’s so embarrassing.”
but you don’t mean it, hell, you’re laughing too
“oh my gosh i can already hear twitter with their ‘he didn’t answer because it’s PR’ bullshit”
it’s inevitable, so can anyone really blame you when your eyes roll and you shake your head with a small smile?
everyone’s giggling, and when you go to text him, your phone buzzes as your contact for harry pops up at the top of the screen, waiting for you to decline or accept his call back.
“he’s calling he’s calling”
the words spill out quickly, like they always do when you get nervous, and you can’t contain the large smile forming on your lips and the laugh coming from your mouth.
everyone immediately quiet’s down and you clear your throat before answering on speaker
“hi baby”
your voice is calm and cool, hiding the fact that you’re 5 seconds away from laughing and ruining the prank
“hi darling, i’m so sorry, i was in the shower. you alright?”
your heart actually melts like an ice cream on a hot day
while looking at the crew, you put a hand on your heart and mouth “aww”
“no baby i’m fine, how was the show? i saw videos, and oh my gosh. 1, you were fantastic, and 2, never stop wearing those sunglasses. you were giving very george michael vibes”
you hear him laugh softly
that laugh that makes you feel like you’re on your guys’ first date again, and it’s very obviously sleepy, but still pushing through to talk to you.
“thank you darling, lambert did good eh? but no, it was great. mum and gem were there, the crowd had fun, and the fireworks went well, thank goodness. i can’t wait to do it again tomorrow”
he exhales softly in relief that it went smoothly, and you can picture him in your head. lights off except for the lamp next to him, his phone laying on the pillow so he doesn’t have to hold it up, and him buried under the hotel duvet
you slump back in your seat, muting yourself before telling everyone
“fuck i love him”
after a second, you sit up and quickly unmute, fidgeting with your necklace
“awww baby that’s so fun, i’m so proud of you. i’m buzzing i can’t wait to go”
you’re smiling so hard that you’re pretty positive that harry can hear it in your voice too
“thank you darling. but what’s up? it’s almost half passed 2 isn’t it? how was elle?”
ever attentive, always asking about you
“elle went good, im home now.”
lie
“but im laying here thinking, and baby i had the best idea ever. like you’re not ready. are you ready? are you listening? oh my gosh wait no pun intended”
you quickly go on mute to laugh freely, and when you do you hear harry laugh at your joke and slightly hesitate,
“go on…what is it?”
he’s definitely more awake now
you unmute and smile
“okay, hear me out. what if we collab on a song together. like just write me a verse, or ill write it im not picky, and it’ll be song of the summer”
the line is quiet
so quiet, in fact, that you have to check that your wifi didn’t go out
“harry? you there?”
“no, no i’m here”
“sooo? what do you think? good idea, right?”
and you know why harry’s hesitating. without sugar coating anything…your voice isn’t the best. but you love to sing.
you sing in the car, in the shower, while making dinner, and even while walking around the house.
you’ve tried to get harry to teach you how to at least hold a note, bless him, but you’re a lost cause
“mmhmm! it’s a great idea darling” he finally sputters out after a minute
“baby….. are you lying?”
the teasing offense in your voice is thick
“no! what? of course not”
“then why is your voice so high? you act like i don’t know you”
you hear rustling, like he’s sitting up in bed
“can i ask what sparked this idea?”
the way he asks is almost as if he’s physically scratching his head as he says it
and you have to take a breath to not laugh
“i don’t know, i just thought it’d be fun. don’t you?”
“no it would..”
“but…?”
“darling are you sure?”
“harry, this would literally go triple platinum”
quickly, you go on mute as harry tries to find his words. trying really hard not to call you a bad singer
you hear him sigh softly, so you unmute before he finally responds
“i mean if you really want to i can call tom and ask to set something up. but darling, are you sure?”
when he asks if your sure for what feels like the 10th time,
you lose it.
you bust out laughing and so does the crew
“oh fuck off” you hear him mumble behind a laugh
“baby i love you! this was for elle’s prank call thing” still in a fit of giggles and satisfaction that it was successful
“oh thank goodness”
his words come out so quickly you barely catch them. which only adds fuel to your laugh
“baby!”
“darling, i love you so much, but…”
“no i know i can’t sing. but you were so cute! look at you, willing to make my dreams come true at the expense of your music catalog!”
“you’re worth more than any music catalog, my love”
you sigh happily, a flush creeping up on your cheeks
“baby i’m on camera” you whine in faux annoyance
“i love you”
“i love you most”
you smile softly, and before you say bye you remember that you were instructed to ask for permission for elle to use his voice
“oh baby, does elle have permission to use your voice/this phone call for their video?”
you ask, smiling as you bite the tip of your nail
“i mean i guess…”
he mumbles quietly, still laughing softly
“no i’m kidding, go for it”
you hold up a thumbs up and nod at the crew
“thanks superstar, i’ll let you go so you can sleep, no more pranks for today. call me when you wake up, yeah?”
“mmhmm, i will. g’night darling. love you, miss you”
and despite his sleepiness, you can still hear him blow a soft kiss
“sleep good, love and miss you too”
and with that, you hang up.
but not before blowing a kiss back
you put your phone away, do the outro they have scripted for you, and thank the crew on the set.
everyone is thanking you, still laughing here and there and ‘aweing’ over yours and harry’s relationship
when you’re finally walking to your car, bags in hand half an hour later, you check your phone for the first time since calling harry
you expect to see emails, random notifications, or texts from people reminding you to do something
but instead of any of that,
you see a new unread text from harry sent 3 minutes after you called him
| if you really want to make a song together, all jokes aside, we can. just let me know. get home safe, love you always, even despite your lack of vocal. xx
Summary: New to the industry, you become paired with one of p*rn’s biggest names; Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Used to doing solo work, you can’t help but feel a little intimidated and a lot nervous. That is, until Eddie teaches you that maybe there isn’t all that much to be scared about.
Content Warning: 18+ smut, porn, porn-industry talk/mentions, pornstar!Eddie x pornstar!reader, sex work, allusion to sex, dirty talk, she/her pronouns, masturbation (m & f), use of sex toys, swearing/profanity, mentions of oral sex, actual oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, cum-play, handjob, digital penetration (fingering), light spanking, overstimulation, voyeurism, sex while being filmed, rough oral/face fucking, face riding, face smothering, spitting/sloppy oral sex (both m & f receiving), softdom!Eddie, mutual pining. Eddie is down bad for reader. Eddie solidifies the rumors that he's a total munch.
────────
He was supposed to be off on Sundays- practically unreachable. It was a clause in his final contract that he signed almost 11 months ago. He had Sundays off with no disruptions. No calls, no emails, no meetings- and absolutely no work. So, when his phone rang through the quiet confines of his loft-style apartment, he groaned out in frustration.
Leave me the fuck alone, Paul…
He thought, slumping further into his couch as he slung his forearm over his eyes. He had nothing on his agenda besides a well-needed nap and some light D&D manual reading. He didn’t even plan on leaving his apartment. Just that.
So, when his phone stopping ringing, Eddie let out a sigh of relief- trying to doze off again before it started ringing again. Not even a five minute pause between the last call.
Whatever he wants, he can leave a goddamn message like everyone else.
He would get to it on Monday. Maybe. If he was lucky.
But no.
On the third attempted call, Eddie jumps off the couch with a groan- stomping over to his wall phone before picking it up.
“Munson.” He murmurs gruffly as he leans against the wall impatiently.
“Eds! Jesus Christ, kid! Pick up your damn phone when I call.”
“What do you want, Paul?” Eddie drones, already wanting to be off the phone as fast as he picked it up.
“Look, kid, I know you said no Sundays but-“
“Nuh-uh.” Eddie cuts him off “No. You know the rules. The only thing I asked for when we renewed my contract was that I get to be unreachable on Sundays. This-“ Eddie gestures to the phone in his hand even though he knew his manager couldn’t see him. It was all for emphasis, really.
“This is not unreachable.” He finishes “It can wait until Monday.”
“Look, kiddo, I know what you said but I don’t think this can wait.”
“Yeah, well, it’ll have to wait. I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
“Do not hang up on me, Munson! I know you’ve only got a month left of this but at least respect me enough to hear me out when I speak to you.”
“Fine,” Eddie sighs, rubbing his temple in exasperation “What do you want?”
“I’ve got a gig for you. Trust me, kid, you’re gonna love it.”
Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Y’know, Paul, I feel like I’ve heard you say that before.” He points out.
“Nah, kid. I mean it. I’ve got something you’re gonna love. Meet me in my office in an hour.”
“What!?” Eddie exclaims “Hold on! Wait-“
But before Eddie could argue, his manager had already hung up- leaving the other end dead as he stood there in disbelief.
That fucking bastard.
────────
To say that the porn industry had made him jaded would be an understatement.
After three grueling years, a lot of fucking, faking it, and getting off enough women to start a Jim Jones-style cult- Eddie had had enough. He was retiring. For good.
The announcement to the porn industry had been a shock to everyone. Eddie “The Freak” Munson; the sex-industry’s “Prince of Porn” (Or “The Prince of Pussy” as some called him, for some odd reason) was leaving behind his legacy as the ladies’ favorite male pornstar. No one has seen anything like it. It was practically unfathomable that someone of his caliber- someone who jackhammered his way into the hearts of millions- was walking away.
To almost every man in America, Eddie “The Freak” Munson was living their dream. Eddie, however, was bored, tired, and lonely. It was fun while it lasted but he was ready to move on. You could only fuck so many blondes with huge tits and daddy kinks until it got completely played out and repetitive. It also didn’t help that, outside of filming, he wasn’t even interested in sex.
True be told, sex had become the last thing on his mind. Not that he couldn’t fuck anyone he wanted. Hell, he was sure there would be a line halfway to Europe if he did. He just didn’t see the point. It was like eating the same meal everyday for the rest of your life. You get tired of it pretty damn quick. What was the point of sex without the emotional connection? The passion? The lust? It was just a waste of time and energy.
Eddie rolled into his manager’s office an hour and a half later, taking his sweet time as he parked his van at the studio. He walks past the receptionists, sending a wink their way as he walked through to Paul’s private office suite. There have been many occasions when he overheard the girls at the front-desk fawning over him after he had just wrapped up a scene with some “up and coming” star that was completely underwhelming.
Sometimes he even thought about taking home one of the receptionists and dicking them down just to see if he felt something. That he wasn’t completely numb to getting someone else’s rocks off. But Paul would surely have his ass if he found out. Sometimes Eddie wondered why he even cared.
“Where the hell have you been?” Paul exclaims, turning towards Eddie once he walks through the door “I was just in the middle of calling you.”
Paul puts the phone down as he watches Eddie plop down into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk.
“Yeah, well, I’m here now. What are your other two wishes.” Eddie deadpans.
“You’re lucky that production pushed back today’s shoot by another hour otherwise you would’ve missed out on what the hell I even called you in for.” Paul chastises, earning an eye-roll from his client.
“Which is?” Eddie points out “You had me race across town in traffic and you haven’t even told me that the hell for. Let’s get on with it. What’s this gig you’re so obsessed about?”
“I found a girl for you.” Paul announces excitedly as if he were a matchmaker and not a manager for sex workers.
“….Okay.” Eddie replies slowly “That’s it?”
“Would you lighten up?” Paul replies incredulously “I’m getting there, okay? Just give me a minute to, you know, set the scene.”
“Paul, I don’t pay you 10% for you to ‘set the scene’ and waste my time. Let’s pick a lane here, and stick to it.” Eddie states, not mincing words. One thing he learned fast during his first year in the industry was that mincing words was what got you used up and stomped on.
“Alright. So, I found this girl. Her manager came to me. Her company is putting together a flick. Oral Fixation 5 or some shit like that. Anyway, they’re looking for a male costar for her. They want someone good. It’s the girl’s first time with a partner. She mainly does solo work. She’s a bit skittish but cute. Different than the type of girls you usually work with.”
“So, you want me to fuck an amateur?” Eddie asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No, no. Not an amateur. She’s been on film before.”
“Has she fucked anyone on film before?” Eddie challenges, eyeing his manager judgmentally. Leave it to Paul to call him in on his day off to ask him to fuck some newbie that probably has no idea what she’s doing.
“See, that’s the thing, you wouldn’t be fucking her.” Paul explains.
“Then what would I be doing? Feeding her bon-bons?” Eddie asks.
“Like I said, it’s an oral flick. No fucking. Very simple stuff. She basically does most of the work herself. She’ll start off solo, get herself nice and ready, you come in and eat her out, make her come, she’ll suck you off, let you come on her face and voila! Done! You’ll be out of here by noon tomorrow. So, whaddya say?”
“….What does she look like?” Eddie asks, leaning forward in his seat. He would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued. No actual fucking? Just some light oral work, a blowjob, and then done? Didn’t seem that bad.
“That’s why I wanted you to come in!” Paul explains “She’s here. In Studio B shooting some stuff for Hot & Horny. You can head over, give her a good look, see what she can do, and then we can book it if she makes the cut. Maybe if she’s up to your standards, we can use her for your big flick. But you have to decide today before someone else snags her. She’s cute, kid. A real looker. I don’t see her staying small for very long.”
“Really?” Eddie asks, rubbing his chin in thought.
“Really.” Paul assures him “What’re you thinkin’?”
“Alright.” Eddie sighs, standing up from his chair “Let me see her.”
────────
When he walks into Studio B, Eddie is expecting to find another cookie-cutter run of the mill porn girl. Big fake silicone tits, lip injections, and an overly-enthusiastic fake orgasm. Bonus points for bleach blonde hair. What he didn’t expect to find was you- the complete antithesis of all of the other girls he’s used to. You were a breath of fresh air.
You stood off to the side of your set- a cute little bedroom set up complete with frilly pink floral sheets, heart shaped pillows, and cute little teddy bears. Boy band posters were taped onto the fake set walls to mimic the feel of a girl’s bedroom. College student, girl-next-door. Young, hot, and sexy- and, boy, Eddie was into it. He was so fucking into it.
Production staff began setting up the scene, placing several different adult toys onto the rose-printed lacy duvet. A smorgasbord of pleasure instruments. Eddie was no stranger to solo girls scenes. He’s gotten off to many of them. But this one was different. He was sucked in- intrigued.
You were standing in a silky robe, covering up whatever production has asked you to wear. All Eddie could get a glimpse of was the thigh high white stockings with lace trim that adorned your long, sexy legs. No heels. Interesting.
You were talking to a set manager, batting your long mascara-ed eyelashes as your pink, kissable lips spread into a sweet smile. The set guy said something that got you to laugh, your head tilting back as you let out an adorable sexy laugh- your hair draping down like a luscious waterfall.
Fuck, you were hot. So, so hot.
“Told you she was a looker.” Paul chimes in as he sidles up beside Eddie- too distracted to notice that he was even in the vicinity “What are your thoughts so far?”
Eddie didn’t want to reveal his hand just yet. He didn’t want to seem too eager.
“Let me sit in for this one. I wanna see what she does.” He replies slowly, crossing his arms over his chest.
Before he knows it, the director calls you over- motioning for you to enter your set and get yourself situated on the cutesy pink bed.
Alright, Eddie thought, Show-time.
Before the cameras begin to roll, you gingerly untie the silk sash of your rope- taking it off to reveal your lingerie ensemble before handing it off to a set manager. Eddie’s mouth immediately went dry.
There you were in all of your glory, decorated head-to-toe in a baby pink lacy lingerie set that Eddie wanted to unwrap- desperately. You wore a bra that was practically see-through, your perfect tits hardly covered by the lace that adorned them. Through the fabric, he could spot your perky nipples- his mouth beginning to water at the thought of rolling his tongue around them- his hands full of your gorgeous breasts.
You wore a pair of lacy matching panties. Your beautiful cunt barely hidden beneath the fabric. Covered up just enough to leave him wanting more. Teasing him. You were a vision. You sat primly on the bed, your legs tucked to the side- like a proper lady- as you waited for your cue to start. Eddie began to move closer- not wanting to miss this.
He sidled up to the small herd of production members, standing firmly as a few of them greeted him with a nod. They were probably wondering what the hell he was doing there. He normally didn’t sit in to watch scenes. He was more known to shoot his own shit, get dressed, and leave as soon as possible. Yet, here he was, metaphorically sitting on the edge of his seat as he waited for you to start.
As if by the grace of god, the set director calls action- signaling to you that the camera was rolling. There wasn’t even a hint of intimidation as you started off slow and tantalizing. You place your fingers over your lips, blowing your signature kiss to the camera. Those lips. Those pouty, pink lips. Eddie hadn’t seen anything yet and he was already hooked- those soft kissable lips drawing him in. Soft lips that he wanted wrapped around his cock.
Continuing on with your tease, you trail up your body with your cute little hands, reaching up to your chest- gently massaging your tits through your lacy pink bra. The movement was slow and sensual, your hands kneading your perfect breasts- pushing them together seductively as you began to look straight into the lens of the camera.
Okay, Eddie thought, this was definitely not your first time doing this sort of thing.
He could tell, immediately- his eyes taking in the way that you were confident and deliberate with your touches. The way that your hands trailed up and down your body- grabbing, kneading, and tracing your irresistible curves. You were comfortable. In your element. Eddie could tell right away that, when it came to getting yourself off, you were definitely no amateur. He had barely even seen anything yet and he knew- and all he wanted was to see it in real time.
You reach up to hook your thumbs into your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders as you bit your lip- batting those pretty eyelashes at the camera lens. Reaching behind you, you began to unclasp your bra- sliding it off agonizingly slow. Eddie’s breath hitches as his eyes lock onto your bare tits- nipples hard and perky as you playfully toss the discarded bra onto the floor beside the set bed.
Eddie couldn’t help but smirk, loving the way that you teased the camera- staring it down as if it were the viewers at home. The sad, unfortunate losers that weren’t anywhere near as lucky as he was to see it in person- to even be offered the opportunity to get on his knees to please you.
You kneel onto the bed, giving the camera a good view of your lower half- your lace panties and stockings still on. Those fucking stockings. Eddie could feel the blood circulating to his dick, causing him to grow hard against the zipper of his jeans. You had barely even done anything but play with your tits and he was already starting to leak precum.
These days, it took a lot for Eddie to physically react to things. Being overly-exposed to sex in this industry tends to do that to you. So, the sheer notion that he was getting hard and horny for you when all he had seen so far were your breasts was pretty damn close to miraculous. You were barely even into your scene and he was sure that he’d have to use one of the private dressing rooms to rub one out afterwards.
You ran your hands down your stomach, staring down the camera as you caressed lower and lower down your body until you reached the waistband of your panties, biting your lip as you plunged your right hand into the fabric. Eddie had to stop himself from groaning at the sight. He had seen plenty of women touch themselves- he was a pornstar, for fuck sake- but the way that you did it was hypnotizing. His eyes become glued to your clothed core as he focuses on the way that your fingers moved and teased yourself behind the thin fabric.
So fucking hot. So goddamn sexy.
He wanted to see more- needed to see more.
Your nimble little fingers teased your clit, working behind the thin fabric of your panties as you threw your head back in pleasure- your hair cascading down as your free hand reached up to one of your breasts. You pinched the nipple between your fingers, letting out a light little moan that had Eddie’s dick stirring beneath his boxers.
Fuck, that’s hot. Eddie thought. Keep going, baby. Show me how you do it.
As if you could read his mind from across the room, your eyes open- flickering over to him as you inch your hand further down into your panties. You insert a digit inside of your pussy, causing yourself to gasp as the sensation.
Shit.
Eddie watches your knuckles work their way inside of your cunt as he strains himself to get even just a glimpse past what’s behind those pretty lace panties. He could bet that they were fucking sopping wet by the way that your muscles didn’t tense or stutter when you inserted another finger. You probably slid it in with complete ease. Like it was nothing- and that was so incredibly hot.
It went on like this for a while. Eddie staring at your lower half as you toyed with yourself from behind the panties. Just when he thought he was on the brink of getting blue balls, you slowly slipped your fingers out of your panties- the production lights on the studio set picking up the way that your digital glistened with your arousal. It was a fucking sight. Such a sight that Eddie didn’t even think about you upping the ante- taking your drenched fingers and sliding them into your mouth, wrapping your lips around them as you sucked them clean.
Holy..fuck.
Suddenly, the director called cut- the sound of his orders causing Eddie to snap his head over in horror.
Cut? No. No, no, no, no, no! You were just getting started! What the fuck?!
“Alright, babe, second act. Lose the panties and get into position. Legs spread, okay?” The director calls out, causing Eddie to sigh in relief. You weren’t wrapping yet.
Thank god!
You nod at the director, hopping off the bed as you begin to take your panties off, sliding them down your legs. Where Eddie was standing off-set, he had the perfect view as you bent over further and further to push your underwear off. You were bend over so low that he had a full fucking view of your glistening wet pussy, and he was right- you were sopping. It took all of the fucking strength and self-control he had to not stomp onto that set, pull down his jeans to free his raging hard cock and jam it into your fucking cunt. God, he’s never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his life. He wanted to tell production to fuck your solo scene so that he could start fucking you.
You straighten up, now standing as you kicked off the panties- leaving you completely nude aside from the white thigh-high stockings. You climb back onto the bed, perched near the edge as you opened your legs- sitting spread eagle in front of the camera. Eddie was fully convinced that he was about to pass out.
That perfect little pussy. It was wet, pink, and tight. The prettiest he’s ever seen and he’s seen a lot during his career. Yours was the first to make him go weak in the knees, wanting to sink down in front of you at the edge of the bed as he spread you open and devoured you- acting as if you would be his last meal.
Production came rushing in to fix your hair, smoothing away any imperfections before running off set- gearing up for your cue. You waited patiently like a good, good girl. Hands to yourself as you awaited permission to continue and, if it were up to Eddie, he would reward you. For being so good. So patient.
The director begins rolling, cuing you in to start and Eddie was hooked and ready to see what you would do next- spread out in front of him. Your eyes catch the camera, your hands roaming down to your core as you begin to play with your clit- now uncovered. No barriers in-between. Thank god.
Your middle finger does all of the work, slowly circling your sensitive little button as you throw your head back again, letting the sensation take over you. Letting your hands freely pleasure yourself as if no one were watching- as if it really were you in your bedroom alone. That, Eddie decided, was what made it so hot. You weren't putting on a performance for anyone. There was no theatrics, no drama- no over the top acting. It was you. Just as you were. Enjoying every little bit of it- and, goddamn, was it sexy.
You let out soft little moans and gasps that went straight to Eddie’s dick, twitching in his pants at the way that you sounded. You sounded sweet- melodic. Music to his ears as your breathing picked up. He stared as you moved your fingers from your clit and down through your folds, wet and glistening as you spread your arousal all over your sex. You were drenched. In all of his life, Eddie never even thought about wanting to be an appendage, but holy shit was he jealous of your fingers.
You use one of your hands to spread yourself open for the camera, causing Eddie’s eyes to almost roll into the back of his head. He was seeing so much of you and he hadn’t even met you yet. But he couldn’t help but watch. He couldn’t look away.
You sink the middle finger of your other hand into your pussy, pushing it in until you reach your knuckle- so fucking deep with that little finger of yours. Eddie couldn’t help but want to take over, wanting to use his much bigger digits to fill you up just how you deserved.
Eddie watched as you slip another finger in, framing your soaked core with your pointer and pinky finger. The way that you touched yourself was hypnotic, putting him in a trance as you ramped yourself up closer and closer to your orgasm. Your moans grew louder, breathing heavier and more needy. Because there was something you needed- Him. Or maybe that’s delusional of him to think. But he knew that he needed you. He was hungry for you and he wanted a taste.
You begin fingering yourself, expertly delving your fingers into your pussy as you fucked yourself with your digits just the way that you liked. Eddie studies this, watching the way that you liked it- wanting to replicate it. No, he wanted to do it better. So fucking good that you couldn't even fathom the idea of anyone touching you but him. He was so drunk on your pussy and he hadn't even so much as touched it yet. He was fucked.
"Alright, angel." The director calls out, catching Eddie's attention for a moment "How about we get some footage of you with one of the toys? Get a really good build-up, climax, we'll do a closeup of the aftermath, and then we're done. Sound good?"
Toys? Eddie forgot about the toys. He was so fucked. He probably shouldn't watch this, knowing that he could very well finish in his pants- but he didn't care. He was rooted to the spot. Too addicted to move. He was drunk on you and your sexy body and your perfect pussy. He needed this. He needed to see you come undone. He needed something to think about tonight as he jacked himself off so hard that he would probably chafe. He'd have to use lube. His own spit wouldn't cut it. There's no way that he could rub himself raw when he knew that he was going to be lucky enough to be in your mouth the next day. Sucked off by those pouty pink lips.
His own thoughts and the view of you naked on that bed, toying with yourself, was becoming overstimulating. It was like an outer-body experience to watch. Even though he didn't feel like he was in his own body, he knew that there was nothing he wanted more than to be inside of yours.
His eyes are glued to the scene as you daintily reach for the toy of your choice. A purple Jack Rabbit style vibrator. You click it on, watching as the toy came to life in your hands. Eddie couldn't help but think about how much bigger he was than that stupid toy. How he would be able to reach places inside of you that the vibrator couldn't even come close to reaching. Places that you probably didn't even know existed. You deserved to be fucked like a queen. Not by some inadequate toy. Even still, he watched as you pressed the tip of the toy to your clit- causing you to gasp loudly in reaction.
Fuck, Eddie thought as he watched you slide the tip of the toy past your clit and through your folds- marveling at the way that your body shivered in reaction. The way that your body responded to pleasure was oh so delicious. Eddie was eating it up like he was starving.
He watches as the toy collects a thick coating of your arousal, making it so wet that Eddie had to bite his lip to keep from moaning.
Fuck, you were so wet.
You slide the toy back up towards your clit, pressing the tip against it harshly as your eyes fluttered shut- causing you to buck your hips.
So fucking sensitive.
You swirl the toy against your clit as you breath catches, followed by a soft moan that escaped those pretty lips.
Fuck, baby, let me hear you.
As if you could hear his thoughts, you let out a needy whine. You needed more. It wasn't enough. Not even close.
Before he could process it, you had begun to insert the toy into your pussy- falling back onto the mattress underneath you as you started to thrust it inside. Flicking your wrist with a motion that had you whimpering desperately. The vibration inside of your cunt causing your walls to contract around the vibrator- making it a tight squeeze to continue thrusting.
Eddie's eyes were wide as he watched. The sounds of your moans, the faint buzzing of the vibrator, and the wet squelching sound of your pussy completely overtaking him. Fuck, this was hot. The most erotic thing he's ever fucking seen.
You continue fucking yourself with it, picking up the pace as you sit yourself up enough to watch you fuck yourself with it.
Shit, yes! Bet you like to watch yourself get fucked, don't you?
You mouth falls open as you watch how slickly coated the toy was as you pushed it in and out of your pussy. Eddie was jealous that it wasn't his dick covered in your arousal, making it so easy for him to slide in and out of your cunt at an ungodly pace. He wanted it so fucking bad that his knees were weak.
Without warning, you finally find that spot. That perfect spot deep within you that had you going crazy. Toes curling, gasping for air, moaning out like crazy as you squeezed your eyes shut. You were close.
Fuck, baby! Just like that! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
You pushed that pathetic little toy as deep as it could go, your mouth falling into a perfect little 'O' as you got closer and closer and closer.
Show me how you like it, baby. That's right. So fucking good!
Soon you couldn't control yourself, bucking your hips as you thrusted it in and out of hole as your moans became more loud and desperate.
Fuck, sweetheart, doing so good. You're almost there. Need to watch you cum.
You began to reach your peak, practically sobbing as you kept working for it.
C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Let me see it.
And as if on cue with his dirty thoughts, you cry out in pleasure. Finally peaking as your thighs began to shake, whimpering as you came all over that stupid toy- your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave.
Fuck, yes! That's it! Fuck, you are so fucking hot! Jesus fucking Christ!
You rode out your orgasm, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. It was so fucking hot. Eddie didn't know how he had gone this long in his career without fucking you. Without knowing you existed. A perfect little sex kitten that he wanted to play with. Hell, you alone were giving him second thoughts about retiring. Not before he could fuck you in every possible way imaginable. Fuck, he was so fucking into you that he could surely invent new ways to fuck you that had never even been thought of before. He'd have to create a whole new updated version of the Kama Sutra with you as his sole muse.
"That's a wrap! You did great!"
The director praises you as you slowly begin to sit up on the bed, hair wild with a blissed-out look on your face. Eddie had never seen someone look so beautiful post-orgasm.
A member of the production crew came over to you and handed you your silk robe. You stand up with shaky legs as they helped you put it on- making yourself modest after that fucking smoke-show that you had just given everybody. Eddie didn't know how no one else was crashing down like he was. He was leaking so much precum that he would probably need new pants. But it was worth it because you were...wow.
"See? I told you." Eddie whips his head over to catch his manager standing there next to him. Had he been there the whole time? Had Eddie been talking out loud? "What do you think, kid?"
Eddie's mouth was dry. He felt dehydrated from just watching. He felt like he needed to down a gallon of water after watching you get yourself off like a fucking professional. With an intensity that he's never fucking seen before.
"Is she still available?" Eddie croaks, his heart hammering in his chest. What if another guy had swooped in and booked the gig right under his nose while he was too busy ogling at you?
"I could give her manager a call and see if it's still open. I know they reached out to a few guys. That Chris Infamous guy being one of them. The jacked up one with the muscles. You know who I'm talking about."
Chris Infamous? Over his dead fucking body!
“Paul, go call her manager right now and tell them I’m in. Like, now.”
────────
The whole way home, he had been antsy. He had waited an hour after your shoot in his manager’s office as he called up your manager in an attempt to get in touch with them. There was no luck. Paul had missed them every single time- and Eddie made him leave a voicemail every…single…time. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his hands.
Eddie tried to busy himself with his previous plans that he had before leaving his loft earlier that day but he just couldn’t focus. The words in his Dungeons and Dragons player manual just blended together and his mind would wander off, causing him to read the same sentence over and over again.
He couldn’t keep his mind off of you. Your soft, supple body wrapped up in that pink lingerie. Those goddamn white stockings that you had kept on the entire shoot. The way your pussy glistened with your arousal underneath the production lights. Eddie was addicted- transfixed. He needed to do this scene with you.
He throws down his player’s manual, tossing his head back onto the couch. He stares up at the ceiling as he lets out a frustrated grunt. Waiting back for a response was torture. He just needed a yes or a no- hopefully a yes. God, he was hoping for a yes. But if the gig was taken, he wished he would know sooner rather than later in order to kill the anticipation.
He reaches onto the coffee table for his pack of cigarettes, pulling one out and placing it between his lips before lighting it. He took a couple of drags, the taste of nicotine barely doing anything to calm his nerves. He was so pent up. He had been ever since your scene. He was hot and bothered.
His mind drifts back to thoughts of you. Your perfect tits that would fit perfectly in his hands. Your perky nipples that he wanted to roll his tongue against, tasting them. But he mostly thought about your sex. What you would taste like. He imagined that you would be sweet- candy-coated beneath his tongue as he ate you up. Liquified sugar in the best way.
Eddie could feel his cock twitch beneath his pants as he fantasized- wanting to bury his head between your soft thighs as he worked his tongue against you so ferociously like it would be the last thing he’d ever do. He’d never wanted someone as bad as he wanted you- wishing that he could toy with your sensitive little button with the tip of his tongue. Teasing you until you begged for more.
Eddie began to unbutton his pants, feeling the ache in his cock that was dying to be satiated. He needed a release. His head was so full of you that he needed to do something to quell the heat that he felt in his groin. He needed to cum.
He pulls down his zipper, feeling a sense of relief as the pressure of the metal enclosure against his hard cock was finally removed. It was like releasing a long, pent-up sigh. He was painfully hard. Practically throbbing underneath his boxers as he slides his hand down past the fabric, gripping himself as he attempts to pull his dick out. He winces at the sensitivity he felt on his cock head.
When he pulls his dick free from his jeans, he looks down to find that his tip was nearly red, angry at the lack of attention that it was receiving. It had been a long time since Eddie had touched himself. He normally didn’t have to with the kind of work that he did. But this was different, he needed this. He needed relief.
He wraps his hand around his length, slowly moving it up and down the way that he liked but his member felt nearly hot to the touch. He was so worked up that it had made him ultra-sensitive to every little thing. Every stroke, every little flick of his wrist. He could feel everything with ten times more intensity than normal. And, god, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want to jack himself off to completion on his living room couch. No, he wanted to sink his desperately hard cock into the velvety soft walls of your incredible cunt.
A pearl of precum leaks out of his tip, slowly dripping down until he collects it with his finger-swiping it up to use as lubricant and he began to buck his hips into his hand. It shouldn’t be his hand. It should be you. He didn’t want to settle for anything that wasn’t you. But he’d have to until he hopefully got the real thing.
“Ah! F-fuck!” He gasps as he picks up a faster pace, wanting to reach his peak as quickly as possible. He was desperate for it. He was needy and fucked out by the images of you that kept playing out in his head.
You on the bed with your legs spread wide open for him, ready to take whatever it was that he was willing to give you like the good girl you would be. Like the good girl he just knew that you were. He stroked himself fast and hard as he thought about how he’d want you to take his cock. He wanted your legs slung over his shoulders as he pounded into you hard enough to have you sobbing. He wanted to wrap his hand around your throat and jerk you back onto his cock as he fucked you from behind. He wanted to fuck you like a whore. Like you were made for it.
“Fuck, baby…” Eddie whimpers, more precum oozing from his tip as he imagined that it was your hand instead of his. Stroking him with those soft little hands of yours as you stared him down with those gorgeous eyes. Marveling at just how crazy you could drive him- at just how badly he wanted you.
“Shit….just like that, sweetheart. Fuck.”
Eddie could feel himself getting close, his breathing picking up faster and faster until they became needy grunts- trying to chase his high.
“Shit, shit, holy fuck…”
He kept stroking and he wouldn’t stop until he got there. Not when all he could think about was just how hot you looked when you orgasm. When all he wanted was to fuck you so good that you had to beg him to stop. How he wanted to make you cum on his cock over and over again until you couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to take you apart just to put you back together again.
Just when he was ramping up to his finish, a few seconds away from blowing his load into his hand, the phone rings- snatching him right out of his fantasies.
Fuck. No!
He growls in frustration, jumping off the couch as he stumbles towards the phone- barely stuffing his angry cock back into the confines of his jeans. A denim-clad prison.
“What?” He huffs as he picks up the phone, his breathing still heavy and ragged from touching himself.
“Eddie, listen, I got in touch with her management.”
“Fuck!” He sighs in relief, resting his back against the wall. “What’d they say?”
“They were pretty psyched that you wanted in, kid. Turns out you were first choice for them. Which is great because they were an inch away from giving the gig to Chris. Good thing I called when I did. Anyway, you got the gig. They’re excited. The girl’s excited.”
You were excited? Wait…You knew who he was?
“Wait, she knows who I am?” Eddie stammers, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“Oh yeah.” Paul laughs “Apparently she’s a huge fan.”
“Fuuuck. No shit?” He asks, trying to fight the grin on his face. He felt on-top-of the-world fucking incredible.
“Have you ever known me to pull your leg, kid? She asked for you specifically. By name. Lucky you, playboy!”
Yeah, Eddie thought. No fucking kidding!
“She asked…for me?” He still couldn’t believe it. You were out-of-this-world gorgeous and you wanted him to be your first on-screen partner? Eddie hadn’t experienced an ego-boost this big since…well, ever.
“Yeah, kid. First on her list. She was worried we wouldn’t accept what her management was offering but I told her we’d make it work.”
Fuck, he would do it for free.
Wait…
“You spoke to her?” Eddie asks, jaw practically hitting the floor.
“Oh yeah,” Paul replied “She personally returned my calls. Wanted to thank us for accepting.”
“No fucking way.” Eddie swoons. It just kept getting better.
“She also wanted me to tell you that she hoped you were impressed at the shoot today. She said she was a little nervous when she saw you but hopefully you didn’t notice.”
You...naughty…little…minx. You had known that he was there the entire time? Fuck….
“Anyway, call time for tomorrow is eight a.m.” Paul adds “And Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fucking be late.”
────────
The next morning, Eddie had woken up early.
Not because he had something to do or somewhere to be. No vastly important errands that he needed to run. Eddie had woken up early because his body couldn’t stand to stay dormant and asleep any longer. Because, for once in a long time, his reality was better than sleep. He had something to look forward to- you.
He had never felt this way before, never took his work too seriously- honestly, what was there to take seriously? He just showed up, fucked, picked up his check, and went home. He never put much thought into things. He just did them. But today was different. Today, he seemed to be putting too much thought into everything.
He agonized over whether or not to drink coffee, worried that the caffeine might make him come off hyper or on edge when he finally had the opportunity to speak to you. He debated foregoing breakfast, giving himself an excuse to invite you out to post-work brunch if things really took off between you two. This was the start of all of his worries. The closer it got to his call time, he got more and more in his own head.
He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything about himself. Anything that you could nit-pick when you finally met. Did you like tattooed guys? What if you didn’t? Would you think his tattoos were stupid? Did you prefer guys with short hair as opposed to long hair? What if he wasn’t your type at all in the slightest and none of this even really mattered? It only got worse by the minute.
Then he reminded himself that you knew him. You’ve seen his work. You were a fan. There was obviously something you must have liked if you chose him out of any other guy in the industry. You were so pretty that you could have requested anyone you wanted- and you chose him. Eddie desperately wanted to know why.
He prepped and primped himself in the bathroom like a teenage girl. He took extra care in the shower, scrubbing every inch of himself vigorously with the soap that smelled extra good.
He washed and conditioned his hair. Hell, he actually brushed it and applied product instead of just running his fingers through it and calling it good. He fucking styled it- putting it into a low bun with a hair tie that he found in his medicine cabinet. He knew just how much wearing his hair up drove women crazy- and he hoped that you weren’t any exception.
He paid extra attention to his downstairs area, making sure that he was perfectly trimmed and proper for you. The last thing he wanted was for you to get on your knees for him and be met with an unkempt jungle. He wanted things to be neat and tidy. He also hoped that landscaping the bush would make his dick appear prettier- something that you’d want to put in your mouth.
An hour before his call time, he was shaking like a leaf. He felt like he was in high school again, nervous and skittish around the female population of Hawkins High. Which was ironic considering what he does for a living these days. Over the years following graduation and leaving that hellhole, Eddie had begun to gain a sense of self-confidence. His demeanor changed.
He became sure of himself, finally believing that he was worth women’s attention. That he was far more attractive than he initially gave himself credit for- and the critical feedback on his work as a porn actor definitely proved that. If twenty year-old Eddie could see just how many women would flip their shit over him, he’d have probably dropped dead in disbelief. But none of those women mattered. None of the porn girls that he had previously filmed with mattered. Even the girls from Hawkins didn’t matter anymore. You mattered.
The whole drive to the studio was anxiety-inducing. Multiple people tried to cut him off on the freeway- gotta love L.A. traffic. Some douchebag in a fucking Corvette flipped him off because he forgot to use his blinker, which seemed to worsen Eddie’s mood as he just kept overthinking himself. How was he supposed to talk to you, let alone shoot a scene, when he couldn’t even drive straight?
When he finally pulled up to the studio and parked his van, Eddie was officially a wreck. He had no idea what to do with himself. You were probably already inside trying to pretty yourself up for your scene together. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what you would wear- hell, why did he even care if you wore anything at all?
He wondered if you were just as nervous as he was. Granted, you had an excuse. This would be your first scene with a partner, meanwhile, this wasn’t anywhere close to Eddie’s first rodeo. Yet, he felt like a virgin on prom night.
He enters the studio, trying to act normal as the front desk girls greet him. Even the choruses of “Hi Eddie…” in their seductive voices weren’t enough to get him out of his own head. He just gave a small wave and a slight tinge of a smile on his lips. Normally he would’ve leaned up against the receptionist desk and flirted- given them just a scrap of his attention. But not today. Not when he felt like he was going to be sick.
He drifted all the way back to Paul’s office, casually knocking on the door a couple of times before letting himself in. His manager looks up from his desk, suddenly adopting a confused look on his face once he laid eyes on Eddie.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Paul asks, tilting his head in confusion.
The comment takes Eddie aback, immediately causing his stomach to drop. Was he missing something? He was supposed to be here…right? Then he felt the dread seep in.
Fuck. The shoot’s cancelled. No way. There is no…fucking…way.
“I…uh…I’m confused.” Eddie replies slowly, shaking his head as he tries to keep it together. This could not be happening.
“Aren’t we shooting today? I came before call time. Did they fucking cancel?” He panics, running his ring-clad fingers through his hair in agony. Fuck!
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down.” Paul says “Nobody cancelled. Shoot’s still on.”
“But…I thought…you said you were surprised that I’m here.” Eddie tries to reason.
“Yeah,” Paul nods, looking at Eddie as if he were nuts “I’m surprised that you’re here before call time. I’ve managed you for the past three years and I can barely remember a time when you’ve ever shown up on time. Let alone early.”
“Oh.” Eddie replies, dumbfounded.
Well, at least the shoot is still on.
“Are you wearing cologne?” Paul asks, looking Eddie up and down as he stood awkwardly in front of his desk.
“Oh.” Eddie breathes “Yeah.”
That has Paul even more confused. Eddie always smelled nice but it was always just his natural scent- laundry detergent, a woodsy musk from the deodorant he wore, and a hint of cigarette smoke. Eddie never deliberately put on cologne unless he was trying to impress someone- and Paul knew this.
“Alright, well…” Paul starts, not knowing what to say to make things less awkward than it already was “Your leading lady is here. Dressing room A.”
“She’s here already?” Eddie gapes, taken by surprise. He thought he had more time to prepare. For what? He didn’t know.
“Yeah, kid. Unlike you, the leading lady happens to know a thing or two about punctuality. Speaking of which, why don’t you go see how she’s doing? Bet she’s sweating like a sinner in church. First time on-camera partner and all that.”
“Do you think she’s nervous?” Eddie asks, out of concern but mostly to gauge if you could be nervous because of him.
“No idea, kid, but it would be nice for you to have a conversation with each other. You know, before you stick your dick in her mouth.” Paul suggests.
To which, he had a great point. Eddie probably should go and say hi. Hopefully he can pull himself together enough to be charming and personable for you. Or, if anything, at least make you feel a bit more comfortable with him before he went down on you in front of a whole camera crew. This could either go very well for him or become a complete disaster.
────────
Eddie stood outside of your dressing room door, his body so tense that he felt like stone. On the other side of this door was you- the girl of his wet dreams that he somehow, begrudgingly, didn’t know existed until yesterday. To say that he was nervous would be an understatement. Eddie’s stomach felt like it was tied in knots and the last thing he wanted was for you to see that he was nervous. No, he had to play it cool- confident and sure of himself. He could do this. Even if it was all a facade.
He begins to knock, so nervous that he could practically break into a sweat over it. He was definitely glad that he decided to wear cologne today but then Eddie began to worry that maybe the cologne would make it seem like he was trying too hard. He was worried that you could sense it and that it would turn you off. Turning you off was the absolute last thing he wanted to do.
He could hear shuffling from behind the door, the sound growing closer before the handle turned and the door swung open- revealing you. All dolled up with completed hair and makeup. Wearing that short little silk robe. As soon as you saw him, your face broke into a smile.
Okay, Eddie thought, that’s a good sign.
“Hey,” he smiles, trying to be smooth but it was so fucking hard when you looked at him with those eyes “I’m Eddie. I’m…uh…I’m your scene partner for today.”
Not that he had to introduce himself. You knew exactly who he was. You had gotten off to his scenes more times than you could count.
“Right, of course!” You exclaim, extending out your hand in greeting as you introduced yourself to him. Eddie raised his eyebrows when he noticed that you hadn’t given him your porn name. No, you had given him your real name.
“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you….properly.” Eddie jokes, causing you to laugh. God, he loved the way your lips curled into a smile- how your eyes lit up. You were so damn pretty.
“Me too.” you nod, looking at him for a beat too long to be accidental. With a cheeky little glint in your eyes as you casually looked him up and down.
Oh, Eddie thought, so we’re flirting now?
“You mind if I come in? Or are you going to make me hang out in the hallway?” Eddie teases “Which I wouldn’t mind. As long as you keep looking at me like that.”
Your heart flutters in your chest “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” You bite your lip nervously- and, boy, does Eddie notice.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He smirks “So, you gonna let me in or?”
“Right!” You shake your head “Come in.”
You step aside, letting him walk through the door before closing it for privacy. Not that you expected anything to happen. Not off-camera, at least.
Eddie walks over and sinks down onto the small loveseat that was against the wall in the dressing room. He sits seductively, legs spread apart as he leans back on the sofa like he owned it. Honestly, he was so charming that he could tell you that he did, indeed, own it and you’d believe him. You, on the other hand, sank down into the hair and makeup chair across from him.
“So, I…uh….I should probably say thank you for accepting. My management probably already told you but it’s my first time doing a scene with someone else. I normally do solo work.”
“So I’ve seen.” Eddie replies, a cocky smirk on his lips. He wanted you to know that he had seen you in action. Not that he needed to tell you. No, he just wanted to remind you of the fact.
“So, my manager might have told me that you had requested me specifically…..by name.”
As soon as the words left his lips, your face began to heat up in embarrassment. “He told you that?”
“Mhm.” Eddie hums, his eyes devouring you.
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Eddie smiles slyly “I was pretty flattered, actually. Not gonna lie, it kinda gave me a big head.”
And, to tell you the truth, I wanna show you my big head, Eddie wanted to say.
But he didn’t want to come off crude and overtly sexual during your first meeting.
“Really?” You mumble bashfully, trying to look anywhere but at Eddie but it was so hard when he was so fucking hot.
“Yeah.” He confirms “Especially coming from a girl like you. So, tell me, sweetheart….why me?”
The sound of his deep, sexy voice calling you sweetheart was enough to make you light-headed. Lord have mercy….
“Well,” you sigh “My management really started to float the idea of me doing stuff with a co-star. They thought it might push my career a bit more and give me more opportunities. To be honest, I wanted to do it but I didn’t want to do it with just anyone. So, I told them that I would only agree to do it as long as I could pitch at least one guy that I thought I could feel…comfortable with.”
You thought you could feel comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something about him that you felt was different than all of the other porn guys. You were far too shy to admit it but Eddie was your favorite male pornstar. You didn’t know what it was about him but he just felt safe. Like you wouldn’t be completely in your head if you were to work with him.
You had seen so much of his stuff that you had witnessed exactly how he treated other girls-putting their pleasure first so much so that he made sure to at least get them off twice before he finished, himself. It wasn’t just that but how soft he seemed with them. Like every one of them and how they felt was important. For your first time, you didn’t want to feel like a piece of meat. You wanted to feel cared for. You were certain that Eddie Munson would be the perfect guy to pop your first-time cherry with. He didn’t want to settle for anything else.
“I make you feel comfortable?” He asks, looking at you in a way that had you on the brink of melting into your seat. However, truth be told, it was Eddie who was trying not to lose his shit. You felt comfortable with him. You had chosen him because there was something different about him than the others. You felt something.
“That’s, uh, really flattering.” Eddie clears his throat, trying to stifle the very turned-on moan that he felt coming. "Can I maybe ask why you feel comfortable with me? Y'know, so I can lean into it while we're shooting the scene?"
And so I can use it as spank bank material tonight…
“Well, I don't really know what it is exactly.” You begin, wringing your hands nervously in your lap “I guess it’s the vibe you give off. I’ve seen your stuff and I just….there’s something about how you treat the other girls that makes me feel like I’d be safe. Cared for, I guess.”
“Okay, yeah." He nods.
Keep it together, Eddie. Jesus Christ...
“I want to make sure you feel cared for. It's important to me. Especially it being your first time. I'm really flattered."
“Yeah?”
“Oh yeah, of course. How could I not be?' Eddie admits “You're, like, super gorgeous....and you picked me, for some reason."
He says it as if he's not one of the most sought after guys in the industry. Like he was nobody. Like he couldn't have a harem of girls hanging all over him if he wanted to.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m looking forward to it. Making you feel cared for...and safe."
"Thanks, Eddie." You reply bashfully "That means a lot to me."
"Um....so....since we're being truthful and shit...can I admit something?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.
"Yeah." You agree "Absolutely. Safe space and all." You smile and, god, it makes Eddie's dick so hard.
"I...uh...I've kinda got a little crush on you." He blurts out before he can back out of saying it.
"Oh." You breathe, your eyes widening in surprise "You have a crush...on me?"
Eddie fucking Munson just admitted that he had a crush on you.
"...Yeah." He winces "I've kinda been down bad for you since yesterday."
"Really?" You repeat "Me?"
"Why do you keep saying it like it's hard to believe or something?" Eddie laughs.
"I mean....because it is. You're...you know..."
"I'm what?" He pushes, wanting to hear you say it.
"You're Eddie 'The Munch' Munson, for god's sake."
"Jesus fucking Christ," Eddie laughs "That’s a new one."
"I mean...it's not not factual." You argue "When you...you know...eat pussy like that....you could have basically any girl that you want."
"Hm." Eddie hums, as if he were doubting it.
"Oh please," You tease "Don't act all modest. You know you're gifted."
"Oh, I am, am I?" He flirts, a cheeky smirk spreading across his lips.
"As if you don't know." You scoff, trying to avoid his gaze. But how could you when he was so hot?
"Well, sweetheart, that's really flattering coming from you." He compliments "At least I know that I have a pretty good chance of pleasing you later."
The comment went straight to your core, causing you to shift in the hair and makeup chair as you clamp your thighs together. You tried to be inconspicuous about the fact that him and his words had such a strong effect on you, but Eddie's eyes shift to your long, sexy legs as you crossed them in your seat. His lips curl into another smirk. He was loving this.
"Don't look at me like that." You practically whisper, your face heating up bashfully.
"Like what?" Eddie teases, that fucking shit-eating-grin still plastered on his face.
"I don't know. Like-"
"Like I wanna eat you?" Eddie interjects, raising an eyebrow at you seductively.
Cocky asshole....
"What if I do wanna eat you, sweetheart?" He asks, leaning forward as he rests his elbows on his knees, staring you down.
"I-"
"'Cause I do. As a matter of fact, since this is a safe space and all, I'm going to tell you that I wanna eat you so fucking bad. Real bad."
You were so fucking wet. Holy fucking shit.
"And if I'm being real honest, baby, I wanna eat you so good that I make you cry. But I get the feeling that you just might like that."
"Eddie..."
"But only if you want me to." He adds "I don't wanna misinterpret anything."
He couldn't misinterpret anything if he fucking tried. How you felt about him was so fucking obvious.
"Anyway," He says, quickly standing from his seat on the sofa. “I should probably go freshen up for you. Y'know, seeing as I'm about to get really lucky in the next..." He checks his watch "Thirty minutes."
He looks up from his watch, his big brown eyes falling upon you- drinking you in.
"See you out there, Princess."
────────
You were so fucking nervous. You stood off-set, watching as production set up lighting- making sure there was the right amount of brightness on the scene stage. The set was a small brick-walled room with an expensive looking black leather sofa in the middle. White shag rug underneath it and some vibrantly green foliage plants in the background.
It was reminiscent of those “casting couch” scenes that porn companies liked to shoot- but this one was classy. Not cheap and sleazy. Like it was the middle of someone’s living room- a glimpse into a private passionate moment between a couple and not just two strangers fucking. Eddie Munson was going to eat you out on that couch. The thought of it made you somehow even wetter than you already were.
Just as you were allowing yourself to get lost in the fantasy, you feel a large hand on your waist- causing you to look over to find Eddie standing next to you. Staring at you with softness in his eyes.
“Doing okay?” He asks, searching your face for any indication that you weren’t, indeed, doing okay.
“I’m okay.” You breathe shakily “Just a little nervous.”
“Don’t be.” Eddie whispers, leaning into you so intimately that only you could hear “There’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s just me. You’re safe with me, okay?”
And somehow those five little words felt like they’ve lifted so much weight off of your shoulders. He was right. It was just him. You could trust him.
“Okay.” You whisper, looking into his warm, brown eyes. Everything was going to be okay.
“How about this…” he starts, beginning to think “If things become too much or you need to stop, I want you to tap my arm twice. I’ll get them to cut and we’ll take a break.”
“Won’t they get mad?” You ask, your voice tiny and uncertain.
“It doesn’t matter.” He states “What matters is that you’re comfortable. This is about you, sweetheart. Without you, there’s no scene. You have the upper-hand. You are in control here. Nothing happens here that you don’t want to happen. Understand?”
“Yeah.” You nod “Okay.”
“You trust me?”
“I trust you, Eddie.”
“Good.” He nods “Because there’s nothing to worry about. If things start to get overwhelming with everyone watching just close your eyes and just focus on feeling, okay? That’s my job. To make you feel good.”
You didn’t think it was possible to be even wetter than you had been before but Eddie being sweet on you had practically opened up a floodgate inside of you. If it weren’t for the scene, you’d throw yourself at him right there.
“Well, hopefully I’m able to return the favor.” You say “I’ve never done that before…on camera.”
You were alluding to giving him a blowjob. It’s not like you haven’t given blowjobs to ex-boyfriends and casual hookups before. But this was different. You would be sucking off Eddie Munson- a man that’s probably received far too many blowjobs to count. He’s probably experienced some mind-blowing shit and there’s no way that you’d ever be able to compare to what other porn girls have been able to do to him with their mouths. You were embarrassed to even try.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, trust me. I’m not picky.” He laughs “Blowjobs are like pizza. Even when it’s not the best pizza, it’s still good because it’s pizza. Not that I expect you to be bad or anything.”
“…I don’t know if that’s supposed to be encouraging or not.” You reply, starting to retreat back into your own head.
“Sweetheart, what I’m trying to say is that it’s going to be fine. Don’t think too much about it.”
“But how could I not think about it when-“
You were cut off by Eddie grabbing for your hand, squeezing it affectionately as he looked into your eyes.
“I thought said you trusted me.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at you.
“I do.” You reply hastily “I just-“
“Like I said, focus on feeling. When we get to that part, I just want you to focus on what feels right. Things will be fine. Honestly, there’s also nothing sexier than a girl that’s into it, y’know?” Eddie explains “You don’t have to be the best at something. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you enjoy doing it and I want you to enjoy yourself. ‘Kay?”
“Okay.” You nod, letting his words sink in.
“Also, sweetheart, with lips like those, I’m sure you suck cock like a champ but I guess I’ll just have to wait to find out.”
Your heart skips a beat at his dirty confession and you almost think about smacking his arm before one of the production managers approaches you.
“You’re on in five.” They say “Start stripping down and we’ll get you on set.”
You felt your blood run cold.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers, voice low as he strokes your back with one of his large hands “If it gets to be too much just look at me, okay? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here the entire time.”
You take a deep breath before nodding. Eddie gives your hand another squeeze before letting you walk to take your place on set. He had successfully gotten you out of your head even just a little bit. Now Eddie just had to get himself out of his own head about cumming too soon.
────────
Eddie stands back near the camera as the director calls action. He had been watching you like a hawk, eyes peeled for any sort of sense that you were beginning to panic. He stared as you dropped your robe, handing it off before gingerly taking a seat onto the black leather sofa.
“Alright, start off slow like you normally do. Take as much time as you need. Start off with slowly taking the panties off. We’ll do some light touching, maybe some fingering. Get yourself nice and ready then Eddie’s gonna come in and take care of you.”
Hearing those words immediately felt soothing to you.
You look over towards the camera and lock eyes with Eddie. He was right there like he told you he would be. He winks at you, setting off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.
You began to follow directions, waiting for the director to give you the okay before you started. Then you began to do what felt right. Just like you were doing a solo masturbation scene. You began to touch and caress your body, getting yourself worked up as you got into the scene.
You began with your breasts, reaching your hands up as you began to knead them through the red lacy bra that you had chosen for this scene- something that made you feel sexy and confident. In your head you began to repeat it like a mantra.
You were sexy and confident.
You are sexy.
You are confident.
You could do this.
You push your tits together, thumbs rubbing over your nipples through the lace bra and you gasped at the feeling. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to be in the moment and just feel. Just like Eddie had told you.
Eddie, on the other side of the set, was watching. His eyes were hyper-fixated on every little thing. The way your soft hands roamed your supple body and you tossed your head back in pleasure as you teased yourself. He was too far away but he was sure that you were letting out the tiniest little moans as you touched and squeezed and felt your sexy body with gentle hands.
Eddie had been halfway hard all morning but now his cock was starting to respond to every little thing you did. Every pinch, every grasp, every flick of your fingers against your tits. He could’ve sworn that it was starting to get hot in there and your bra wasn’t even off yet.
“Okay, honey, start to naturally drift down more. Get to the panties and take them off. We want it nice and slow, alright? Tease the camera.”
Tease the camera? Eddie definitely won’t be lasting long enough for the planned cum shot if you kept going on like that. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. He didn’t want to immediately gain a reputation for finishing fast even when he had so much pornographic proof out there that he wasn’t a fast shooter. You were the first girl in the industry that made him worry that he was going to finish in his pants as soon as he got a taste of you.
Nevertheless, your hands began to drag down, lower and lower until they reached the waistband of your panties. Red lace just like the bra. You didn’t even have to feel yourself to know that you were ready to go. You knew as soon as you had locked your eyes on Eddie from where he stood off-set that you were going to be drenched. But your right hand still delved into your panties, swiping at your folds as you felt just how wet you were.
Eddie watched, heart pounding as he stared at your hand down your little red panties-playing with your sopping wet core until you slowly removed your fingers. Drawing them out to reveal a thin coating of your arousal. Eddie’s breath hitched as your eyes bore into him. You were staring at him. Your gaze was locked in on him. All of this was for him.
You bring your slick fingers to your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you popped them into your mouth, sucking them nice and clean.
Fuck, you dirty girl….
Eddie’s dick begins to strain against his jeans at the action. God, was he ready to find out what you tasted like. He couldn’t take the teasing and direct eye-contact for much longer. He was so fucking ready for you.
Meeting the expectations of the director, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, seductively shimmying your hips as you pulled them down tantalizingly slow- agonizingly slow. Eddie watches with greedy eyes.
You laid back onto the sofa, panties wrapped around your thighs as you begin to lift your legs up, pulling the wet lacy fabric the rest of the way down your legs that were lifted slightly into the air- giving the camera a nice view of your pussy. Thighs pressed together in a way that had Eddie staring hungrily. He wanted so badly to sink down to his knees and hold those legs up like that as he ate you. The sight was mesmerizing.
After the lacy panties were off, you flung them across the set- right in Eddie's direction and he swore he saw a cute little smirk on your face when you did it. God, you were so naughty- and he was going to teach you a lesson.
"Okay, honey, now lay back on the couch. Spread your legs. Great! Perfect! Can we get some finger action in there?"
Eddie realizes just how well you follow directions as your body melts into the back of the couch, bringing your legs up onto it as you open them for the camera- spreading them open for everyone to see and, god, it was a fucking sight that was so fucking unholy. Yet, Eddie couldn't look away. Not when you were bare and spread out in front of him for his eyes to feast upon. That gorgeous body, those lace-clad tits, that glistening wet pussy. You were going to fucking kill him.
Just when he thought it couldn't get any hotter, you looked off near the camera- eyes trained on his as you used your fingers to spread yourself open for him. He could have passed out right there.
Fuck, he was really gonna give it to you.
He was going to devour every fucking inch of that tight little pussy until you were screaming. Fuck the cameras, fuck the scene, fuck everyone who was watching. They didn't matter. All that mattered was what he wanted to fucking do to you.
Your fingers began to tease your hole as you glided them up and down your slit. You were so fucking wet that it was making Eddie weak in the knees. Your sopping wet pussy was none other than a holy altar in which he wanted to bow down and worship. Eddie wasn't religious but you were a fucking goddess that he would devote his entire fucking life praying to if you let him.
You began to play with yourself, using your fingers to rub your needy little clit in slow circles. You threw your head back against the back of the sofa as you close your eyes. Focusing on feeling. Making yourself feel good. Getting yourself nice and wet for Eddie.
Eddie.
Eddie fucking Munson with his huge fucking cock and his soft-looking lips and those big brown eyes. How he made you feel. So cared for, so safe. Your fingers begin to work your clit a bit rougher. You had seen him on screen so many times fucking so many girls and now it was finally going to be you. His head between your thighs. His tongue in your folds. Sucking on your clit. It was getting you so fucking worked up.
You insert two fingers into your pussy as you begin to fuck them into yourself. You let your mind take over, moans tumbling from your lips as you try to fuck yourself with your fingers as deep as you can- wanting to hit that spot within yourself that had you curling your toes.
You shove them as deep as you go, trying to reach it but you just couldn’t. It felt like something was missing. But you kept trying. It felt good, of course it did, but you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Like you were struggling. Now you were beginning to wonder if closing your eyes and thinking about Eddie was what did you in.
You had no issues in the past with using your fingers on yourself to get the relief you needed but now they just felt inadequate. As if they suddenly weren’t enough. It was so odd. Was Eddie jinxing you? Were you maybe more nervous than you originally thought? Were you-
“Alright, honey, how are we doing?” The director asks, bellowing out to you from behind the camera. “You look good, babe. Gorgeous. We’re going to add Eddie in. Are you ready?”
You look over at Eddie as he begins to strip off his shirt, his brown curls still tied back in a low bun. As he removes his t-shirt, you can’t help but stare- zoning in on his sexy, toned body. He was so fucking hot. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more turned on by him, he looks up at you- making sure that you were okay. That you were comfortable.
You both lock eyes, staring at each other with so much sexual tension that the whole room could probably feel it. You wanted Eddie Munson so bad- his body, his mouth, this hands touching all over you. You wanted him so bad that your body felt hot to the touch. He had been your industry crush for so long and now you were going to have his mouth on you- tasting you.
You give the director the okay, still spread out on the couch. As Eddie prepares to join you on-set, he can’t help the way that his eyes wander over your beautiful body. Your perky tits, your long legs, your pretty face, your sexy curves- but, most of all, your glistening wet sex. You were practically dripping with arousal as he shamelessly stared at you- the most gorgeous angel he’s ever laid eyes on. He hadn’t even gotten his mouth on you yet and he knew that he was in for trouble.
“Alright, you’re on.” The director nods towards him, giving Eddie his cue. It was the moment that he had been thinking about for hours.
His hardened cock was surely very noticeable beneath his black jeans. He could’ve sworn that there was so much blood rushing to his dick that he would pass out from the sheer lack of it being anywhere else in his body- and it was only getting worse with the way that you were looking at him. As if he were the most delectable man on the planet. Which, you would have to admit, was pretty accurate.
Your eyes stay glued to him and the pure fucking sex god that he is as he crosses onto the set, introducing himself to the scene. You loved the way that the black denim of his jeans hugged his waist. You loved the silver chain that dangled against his right hip as he strode over to you. You loved the soft tufts of dark hair that made up the happy trail leading down into the waistband of his pants. Eddie Munson was a fucking dream. He was a king- and you wanted to be his queen.
“Hey, you.” He whispers, eyes on you as he sinks down onto his knees in front of you “Doing okay? Not nervous?”
He was checking on you. Fuck, there was no way this man could be any hotter.
“I’m okay.” You whisper back “Just a little overwhelmed.”
The way that Eddie looked at you with those chocolate brown eyes made you want to melt.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice still low enough for only you to hear- sharing this intimate moment with you only.
“Just a little.” You answer. You were trying not to focus on your nerves but you could feel the space that they occupied in your body.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and relax. I’m here to take care of you.” He says, his eyes warm “Remember what I said? If it gets to be too much just focus on me. Just forget that anyone’s even here. Okay?”
“Okay.” You whisper back, staring at him as you nod.
“Good.” He says “Now, how can I help you get comfortable? What do you need? Hm?”
God, he was making you so wet…
“….I….I, uh, can you use-“ You immediately felt embarrassed, your face flushes as you try to look away from him.
“Hey, hey, hey…” He tsks “Eyes on me. Look at me, angel.” He reaches for you, taking your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger- guiding you to look at him. “Tell me what you want. It’s just you and me here. It’s just us. Okay?”
“Okay.” You bite your lip, nodding along.
“Say it.” He demands, maintaining eye contact “I want to hear you say it. Need to know that you’re with me. That it’s just me and you in this room right now. Nobody else. Just us, okay? Tell me.”
“I….It’s just us.” You breathe, your body feeling as if it were on fire from the intimacy “You and me. No one else.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. Just you and me. Now, tell me, what….do you….need?”
What did you need?
“You, Eddie. I need you.” You gasp lightly, causing his lips to form into a smirk.
“What do you need me to do?” He asks “Gotta use your words or I won’t be able to understand.”
“I want….I need you to kiss me. Please?”
Eddie lets of a short, low growl from the back of his throat as his hands fly to your waist, grasping tightly as he jerked you towards him- wanting you closer.
“C’mere, baby.” He rasps, straightening his body to become level with yours before he uses one of his large hands to grab the back of your neck- pulling you into a rough, hungry kiss that was so intense that it could have knocked the air out of you.
And Eddie fucking Munson was an amazing kisser.
The way that his lips slotted and molded against yours. The way that his mouth moved against yours as he nipped and licked and sucked at your bottom lip. The way that he slid his tongue into your mouth as if you belonged to him- causing you to want him to make you his.
You moaned into his mouth as his tongue fought for dominance against yours, taking your breath away with how desperate he was to kiss you harder and more passionately than he already was- if that were even possible.
How hands were all over. Grabbing your waist, his fingertips trailing up and down your back in delicate touches. The way that his thumb slipped underneath the clasp of your bra. He pulled his thumb back to stretch out the band then released it to let it snap back against your soft skin- earning him a surprised gasp.
He removes his lips from yours, beginning to pepper light kisses along your jawline before trailing his lips down your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him more access as he kisses down the column of your throat and then back up- working his way over until he began nibbling on your ear. You thought you were dreaming when he whispered in your ear.
“Can I take your tits out?”
You probably seemed needy and desperate as you fervently nodded your approval. You worried that you probably looked pathetic but, to Eddie, there was nothing hotter than seeing how worked up you were getting.
“P-please.” You mutter, voice coming out breathy and shaky.
“Mmm…good girl. Wanna look at those pretty tits when I fuck you with my fingers.”
You let out a startled squeak at his filthy works, causing him to grin.
“Fuck, sweetheart, does that turn you on? Listening to me tell you that I wanna put my fingers in you? Hm? That I wanna stuff you full?”
“Fuck, Eddie…” You moan.
“God, sweetheart, you’re already moaning my name and I haven’t even touched you yet. So needy for me. I fucking love it.”
He reaches both hands around to your bra clasp, expertly popping it open and removing it as if it were the easiest thing on earth. To him, it probably was. He’s probably taken off so many girl’s bras that he could do it with his eyes closed.
He pulled the bra off, taking it in his large hand before flinging it somewhere on the set. Not that it mattered. As hot as it was, it was getting in the way of what he really wanted. Your tits in his mouth.
“Mmm fuck, baby.” He groans, staring lovingly at your gorgeous chest- your hardened nipples. “You are so goddamn pretty, angel. So beautiful. Can I put my mouth on them?”
“Please.” You moan, arching your back in order to bring your tits closer to his face. Eddie chuckles at your eagerness.
“Shit, sweetheart.” He laughs “You want me to put them in my mouth? Yeah? These sweet fucking titties….”
He keeps one hand on your waist while the other snakes up to your chest, grabbing a handful of your boob as he squeezes it in his hand.
“So fucking soft, honey. So warm…..so perfect.” He teases, voice low and seductive. “Perfect little tits. Want me to put them in my face? Suck on your perky little nipples? Fuck, they’re so hard for me.”
You don’t know what came over you but you instinctively grasp at Eddie’s hand that was left grabbing your waist as you draw it up and onto your other breast, wanting him to have two handfuls of you.
“Look at you, sweet girl. You want both my hands paying attention to your tits? So bossy.” He tsks “Could’ve just asked. But that’s okay. I’m gonna give you what you want. But you’re gonna have to do something for me too.”
You look at him with curiosity in your eyes. You had no idea what he was going to ask you. Truth be told, it made you a little nervous.
“Since both my hands are full, sweetness, I’m gonna need you to use yours to play with your pussy for me. Think you can do that for me? Hm?”
Fuck
You stare at him as he surveys your body, now fully nude in front of him. God, you were a beautiful sight.
“Okay.” You squeak out, nodding your head.
“Atta girl.” He whispers “That’s my good girl. Now start rubbing your clit.”
────────
To Be Continued…
A/N: Hope you enjoyed part one. Sorry that I cut it short, I didn’t want to make the fic too long and I also wanted to get it out before I left for vacation next week. I feel like I’ve already held this back from you all long enough. Please excuse any spelling errors. I’ll go back and edit later
Summary: You meet Tommy after you pick up him and Joel from a bar. The night ends with you finally being honest and letting Joel in... a little.
Warnings: language, cigarette use, alcohol use, Joel loves bossy women, fluff, smut (18+), piv sex, fingering, handjob, reader has major self esteem/anxiety issues, very very mild hint at an abusive past relationship, Tommy and Joel acting like children and being little shits
other parts here
One forty two in the morning.
That's when your phone disturbs your blissfully deep sleep.
Nobody ever calls you in the middle of the night. Hell, no one even texts you in the middle of the night. It's why your volume remains on every day. The most action you'll get is a ping from your work email, and you've silenced that feature during the overnight hours long ago.
You may work like a dog, but you draw the line at anyone fucking with your sleep.
So when your phone wakes you with your ringtone—not your email or text sound, but your ringtone—you assume someone died. Has to be, right?
You're still groggy as you frantically reach for the phone, heart in your throat and eyes half open while you try to mentally figure out what time it is in London—would your sister call you and forget to check the time zone? Was she hurt or in trouble?
"Hello?" you answer without even looking at the caller ID. Your voice is thick and you sound like a frog. You clear your throat and try again. "Hello?"
There's shouting on the other end but it doesn't sound like an emergency. Not exactly happy shouting, either. Just... loud as all hell. And a whole bunch of voices, too. You blink and rub your eyes.
"Oh, h-hey! Hey, honey, can you hear me?"
You wince and pull the phone from your ear before angling the receiver towards your mouth. "Joel?"
"Did I wake you?"
More shouting that's now sounding like the drunken sort. People laughing and swearing are walking by, you can tell because their voices decrescendo as they presumably walk down the sidewalk.
"What—are you—" You shake your head. Words are hard to formulate.
"Y'there?" Joel sounds drunk, you can hear it now. Anger begins to simmer in your veins.
"Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?" you snap.
"Huh?"
"Why are you—"
"Gimme the phone!"
"Fuck outta here—"
"Joel, I wanna—"
There's rustling then. You can hear their shoes scraping on the sidewalk and you roll your eyes as you wait. The rustling finally stops and the second male voice curses out Joel before you hear the telltale flick of a lighter and then you hear his voice again, just a little breathless now.
"Sorry 'bout that," Joel murmurs. You can hear his footsteps on the sidewalk, he must be walking away.
"What do you want, Joel?"
"Got a favor to ask," he says, "any chance you can p—" Joel hiccups and you scowl. "Sorry. Any chance y'can pick us up?"
"Why?"
"'Cause we're drunk as shit and this goddamn bouncer's got a hard on f'Tommy here and won't let 'im leave without talkin' to someone that ain't me, so we can't call a cab, 'n I ain't callin' our ma or—"
"Oh, Jesus Christ, fine!" you yell, flinging the covers off your bed. "Where are you?"
He tells you while you shove on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt.
"The hell's the matter with you two? Your brother's home for two days and you're already getting into fights?" You snatch your purse off the hook by the door and slip on some sneakers.
"No, no, didn't get into any fights," he says defensively. "Tommy just flirted with the wrong girl, is all. Perfectly—" hiccup "—harmless."
"Yeah, right," you grumble, locking the door behind you. Goosebumps erupt across your skin at the first touch of night air. "It's freezing, Joel, I can't believe you're dragging me out of bed for this bullshit."
"How's 'bout I drag you back into bed later and make it up to you?" he teases. You roll your eyes and collapse into the driver's seat of your car.
"I'm not interested in having drunk, sloppy sex with you. That's the opposite of making it up to me."
"Easy, darlin'. Save some of that sass for when y'get here. Know how much I love it."
"You're such a pain in the ass." You let the grin stretch across your face only because Joel can't see you because goddamn him, even when he interrupts your sleep, he manages to make you smile.
You hear the humor in his voice when he answers. "Yeah, you like this pain in the ass, though."
"Do not." You're still grinning as you back out of your driveway.
"Uh huh. You got a big ol' crush on me."
"Do you want me to just go back home? 'Cause I'll do it," you warn.
"Nope. No I do not," he replies. "Miss you. Wanna see you."
You flick on your turn signal. "You're drunk and horny."
"Both things can be true at the same time."
"Funny," you say dryly.
"C'mon now, you're sayin' you don't miss me? Not even a little?" he asks, attempting to sound seductive but it's coming across more like he's confused.
"We saw each other on Sunday," you remind him.
"Feels like a month ago," he grumbles.
You crack your window just a smidge to let in some fresh air while simultaneously running the heat on low.
"Who's the one with a crush now?" you say smugly into your speakerphone.
"Never denied havin' a crush on you," Joel answers, "and I still ain't."
Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you bite your lip. "You're a real sweet talker, you know that?"
"Mm. Maybe that's why we work so good. I got the sweetness and you got the spice."
"Spice?" At this point you're just keeping him on the phone so you know he and Tommy haven't wandered off somewhere, but it also serves as great entertainment as you drive the mostly deserted roads to a bar on the other side of town.
"Yeah. Spice. Like heat or pepper or somethin'."
"Sugar and pepper do not sound good together."
"Ah, don't knock it til you try it, otherwise, how're you gonna know if it's any good?"
You have to give him credit. Even though he's hammered, he still manages to not-so-subtly find ways to tell you what a great couple you'd make. It's been a fun few weeks, but you're still holding firm on keeping things casual, and Joel seems to have figured out just how far he can push you without tipping over that edge.
"Y'there?" he asks, and you nod although he can't see you.
"Yeah. Ten minutes out."
Joel sighs on the other end as the background noise starts to increase, indicating he's pacing back towards the bar.
"Got a goddamn headache. Loud as shit here." Hiccup.
"You sure it's the music and not the shots?"
"How'd you know we did shots?"
"I didn't. Crazy guess."
Joel laughs. "Wanna know somethin'?"
You smile to yourself as you roll up to a stop light. "What?"
Just then, Tommy's voice fills the speaker.
"—wasn't doin' nothin' and this motherfucker over here says—"
"Keep your goddamn voice down."
"Who's on the phone?"
"I told'ya already, we're gettin' picked up—"
"Ohhh! She's comin' to get us? Hey! Lemme talk—"
"Y'can talk to 'er when she gets here, back up!"
"Joel? I'm a block away," you say loudly into the speaker, but the brothers are too busy bickering.
"Stop bein' all weird and gimme the phone!"
"I ain't bein' weird! You're the one—"
"H-hey! Hey, sweetheart!" Tommy yells. You wince at the volume just as the lights from the bar come into view. "He's been talkin' 'bout you all night! He tell y'that? Wouldn't shut—"
Despite yourself, your heart lurches in your chest at Tommy's revelation. There's the sound of plastic clattering onto concrete and the scuffle of shoes mixed with some grunts and you pull into the parking lot.
When you park, you immediately spot them wrestling and get out of the car with your purse slung over your shoulder. As you approach, you notice the brothers attracted a few curious onlookers, but once it became clear it wasn't a real flight, they moved on. The bouncers, however, stood with their backs against the brick wall and their arms crossed over their chests, looking amused as they watched two drunk idiots try and fail to get one another in a headlock.
"Joel!" you shout, and finally they pull apart, breathless with their hair and clothes askew. You're about ten feet away but Joel, being drunk as he is, stumbles to pick up his phone and presses it to his ear.
"Y'still there?" he pants into the receiver.
"No, I'm here, dumbass," you say sharply. Joel's head snaps up at the same time as Tommy's and he gives you the dopiest grin before pocketing his phone.
"There she is," he slurs, opening his arms wide. His dark T-shirt is splotched with wet marks, probably spilled beer, and his wallet looks like it's about to fall out of his back pocket. His hair is sticking up every which way and his eyes look glassy but he still looks absolutely thrilled to see you.
"This is what you woke me up for? Some discount version of the WWE?" You reach to push his wallet deeper into his pocket and he envelopes you in a bear hug, pulling your face abruptly against his chest. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes and you cringe before pushing him away.
"You stink."
"You smell fuckin' great," he says, still smiling like a fool.
Tommy says your name in a sing-songy voice, pulling your attention to the younger brother. He looks like Joel. All dark features, eyes that sparkle and a killer smile. His hair is cut short and he's clean shaven, very military-esque, but he's just as much a mess as Joel. His open button down shirt is hanging off one shoulder, revealing a white tank top underneath. His cheeks are pink and he looks a little sweaty. He's most definitely very drunk. Still, he remembers his manners and straightens his spine before offering you his hand and name.
"Yeah, I gathered, hi," you say, shaking his hand.
"Happy I get to put a face to the name," Tommy grins, still holding onto your hand. His eyes dart between you and Joel. "She's pretty," he tells his brother, and you speak before Joel can answer.
"She says thank you." You pull your hand away and glance around the front of the bar. Country music blares from somewhere inside—a live band, you think. Cigarette smoke clings to both their clothes and hovers in the air from nearby patrons taking a break against the wall. Laughter and shouting echo just inside the open door, which is framed by the two large bouncers watching the three of you warily.
"You with them?" One of the bouncers juts his chin stiffly in Tommy and Joel's direction. You sigh and nod before stepping away from them.
"Unfortunately. What'd they do?"
"That one—" The second bouncer scowls at Tommy. "Told my girlfriend he wanted to use her g-string as floss."
"Christ," you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose.
"It was a compliment," Tommy chimes in behind you.
"For the record, this is not a great first impression of you, Tom," you say through clenched teeth.
"Then he climbed onto the stage when the band was on break and nearly broke the strings on the guy's twelve hundred dollar Fender."
"That rendition of Highway to Hell almost cleared out the whole bar," the first bouncer says, shaking his head. "Stumbled into some tables and broke a shit-ton of glasses. Got four customers soaked in gin. He's costin' us money."
"I am so sorry," you plead, "I'll take them home right now."
"They're lucky we didn't call the cops."
"Only reason we didn't is 'cause that one said he's military."
"I know, and I'm sure once they sober up, they will be able to appreciate that act of kindness," you say, turning to watch the two brothers grow bored and start bickering once again, but now it sounds like it's over who is going to get to sit shotgun. They start swatting at each other, which inevitably evolves to pushing and yelling, as the three of you continue to watch.
"The hangover'll be punishment enough," one of the bouncers mutters. You nod in agreement before turning back to the two men.
"So why does it feel like I'm being punished when I didn't even do anything?"
They chuckle and turn to slip back inside the bar. "At least your boyfriend wasn't the one startin' trouble."
"He's not my boyfriend," you grumble to yourself before looking back at the two brothers, poised to get into yet another wrestling match. "Hey! Knock it off and follow me to the car!"
"Yes, ma'am," Joel says instantly after giving Tommy one more hard shove. He falls into step next to you and slings an arm heavily around your shoulders while Tommy lights up a cigarette a few paces behind.
"What exactly was the plan here?" you ask, digging your keys out of your purse. "Who was gonna drive? You're both shitfaced."
Joel shrugs. "Cab. But th'bouncer was bein' a dick and didn't—"
"That bouncer did you guys a favor."
"Sure as hell did 'cause now you're here," Joel smirks.
You roll your eyes with a grin and unlock your car doors. "Get in," you say, shrugging off his arm.
"Shotgun," Tommy says, flicking his cigarette onto the sidewalk.
"No fuckin' way—"
"I called it!"
"I don't give a shit!"
"You have five seconds to figure it out before I leave you both here," you warn, slipping back into the driver's seat. Joel shoves Tommy and races around the front of your car, jumping in next to you and locking the door before his brother has a chance to catch up.
"Your mother must be a saint," you tell them flatly when Tommy begrudgingly slides into the backseat.
"Our Ma woulda let us get hauled to jail just to teach us a lesson," Tommy laughs.
"And we woulda thanked her for it the next day," Joel adds, slumping into your passenger seat with a heavy sigh. You fiddle with the heat before cracking your window again, then you check your mirrors and start to back out of your spot.
"Why d'you got the heat on if the window's open?" Joel asks.
"I like the fresh air but I'm cold."
"Can we stop 'n get some food?" asks Tommy, leaning forward to stick his head between your seats.
"Fine," you mumble, squinting your eyes to see through the dark lot.
"Wings?"
"Hell yeah, wings," Joel confirms.
"Where?" you ask tiredly. Between the two of them, you think you cobble together some coherent directions and you begin your journey to your first stop.
It's blissfully quiet for the drive. Both men seem to have tired themselves out a bit and they're quietly staring out the windows. It gives you a much needed break. By the time you approach the restaurant, you're feeling alot more relaxed than an hour ago.
"I'll run in and give 'em the order to-go," Tommy says, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Probably be like twenty minutes or so."
"No way you're going in there alone, drunk off your ass," you scold, turning off the car. "We're all going in. C'mon."
Joel groans in protest but unbuckles his own seatbelt and follows you both inside. You usher them forward to the empty counter and make sure they don't order the entire menu before finding a booth to sit and wait. When Joel squeezes in next to you, casually tossing his arm over the back of the booth and scooting close enough so your legs touch under the table, Tommy grins and the inevitable interrogation begins.
"So," he says slowly, gaze darting back and forth, "how long's this been goin' on?"
"Little more than a month," Joel answers right away. It gives you pause until you realize he's right—it has been. In fact, it's closer to two months now since you first slept together. When the hell did that happen?
"How'd you meet?"
"He had a job working on my next door neighbor's house," you say, planning on leaving it at just that, but of course, Joel interjects.
"Kept comin' over to complain 'bout the noise. Took me a few days to realize she was flirtin' with me."
"I was not!" You smack his thigh under the table and he laughs.
"See? She's doin' it again. Yellin's her love language."
"What the hell's a love language?" Tommy asks, nose scrunched with confusion, but you both ignore him.
"Then what is your love language?" Joel asks, turning his body to face you in the booth. His arm rests on the table and he's smiling at you like you're the only two people in the room.
"Giving or receiving?"
"Now we're talkin'," Joel laughs, "both."
Tommy shakes his head. "Hey—what are love languages?"
"Giving is acts of service, receiving is words of affirmation," you answer without hesitation. You hold his gaze with an amused expression while he works out this new bit of information.
"So you do got a crush on me," he finally teases. Across from you, Tommy watches the exchange on a tape delay.
"How did you get that out of what I just said?" you argue.
Joel shrugs like it's obvious. "You picked us up when I called you in the middle of the night, didn't you? Sounds like an act of service t'me."
You blink slowly, then scoff. "I just didn't want you to get thrown in jail or die driving home."
"Nah, you like me," Joel smirks.
"Wait, wait—" Tommy says, waving his hands in the air. You each turn to him as thinks, which takes much longer than necessary. "Ain't you... together? Like, datin'? Why'd—what're you—"
"No," you reply, cutting him off. "We're just... hanging out."
"Hangin'... out?" Tommy echos, stretching out each word slowly. You nod but Joel remains quiet next to you. Tommy scratches his head as he thinks some more and you take a deep breath, willing their food to finish cooking faster. "So you ain't his girlfriend but... y'still came to pick us up tonight?"
You roll your eyes. Jesus, they're drunk.
"Yes."
Tommy and Joel are silent except for the rhythmic, impatient tapping of Joel's fingers on top of the booth behind you. Finally, a slow smile stretches across Tommy's face as he points accusingly at you across the table.
"You like him."
"What?" you frown.
"Told you," says Joel smugly.
"You got a big ol' crush on him."
You bury your face in your hands to hide the heat that has crept up to flood your neck and cheeks. "Shut up," you groan.
"Oh, Mama's gonna love her," Tommy says to Joel. Your head snaps up, eyes wide.
"She's a spitfire," Joel replies, like you're not even there.
"Exactly why she'll love her."
Your mouth opens to protest—to say anything to stop this terrifying conversation in its tracks—but mercifully, their order number gets called and both men stand to go pick up their bags, forgetting all about your current mortification.
"Shit, this smells good," Tommy murmurs, opening his bag. Joel reaches in and steals a fry, popping one in his mouth before snatching his own food from the counter. You still don't have your bearings when he tells you they're ready to go, both of them completely absorbed with their food and oblivious to the way embarrassment is still coursing through your veins.
The drive back to Joel's house is quiet. Usually, you'd tell them not to eat in your car, especially something as messy as chicken wings, but you need the silence so you can process your own thoughts, so you let it go this time.
You've been pushing it out of your head for a while now, but it's becoming hard to ignore. They're right, obviously. You do like Joel. Problem is, you like him... a lot. And you're entirely unsure how to navigate these feelings because everything with him was so unexpected that you never allowed yourself enough time to confidently heal before falling into this... thing with him. So you've been pushing him away. Keeping him at an arms length. And Joel's been okay with it. What keeps surprising you is his persistence. Most men would jump at the chance to carry on a casual sex relationship—all the benefits and none of the baggage of a committed relationship. And yet, Joel keeps suggesting more. The question is... can you offer more?
"Right here," Joel says, pointing with a sticky finger towards a sleepy little house on the right side of a cul-de-sac.
"You ain't ever been here before?" Tommy asks.
"Uh, no," you reply as you pull into Joel's driveway and shift your car into park. "Joel usually picks me up when we have plans."
"I'm a gentleman," he tells Tommy, shooting him a look in the mirror. "Could learn a thing or two."
"Shut up," Tommy snaps, then they both collect the rest of the food and shimmy out of your car. As you follow them to the front door, you cringe to think about the smell of hot wings currently embedding itself into the fibers of your seats.
The brothers stumble into Joel's modest house, bickering about god knows what as they make their way to the kitchen, leaving you to quietly shut the front door and look around.
His home is... warm. It's well lived in and cozy, and it instantly makes you feel comfortable. Not that you weren't before, it's just... you never know what you're going to get when you walk into a bachelor's house.
There's a few steps that lead up into an already dimly lit living room. The couch is pushed up against the front wall, angled towards the television that houses countless DVDs stacked on shelves next to it. There's some rather decent wall art that impresses you, and a fake plant or two, but what really takes you by surprise is the guitar resting against the wall.
You slip your sneakers off before stepping onto the plush carpet, feet softly crossing the room and stopping right before the instrument. You drag one finger gently over the neck, then test the feel of the strings under the pad of your thumb. You try to imagine Joel playing it, maybe even singing. The thought has you smiling to yourself before eventually dropping your hand and turning back around to map the rest of the house.
Across from you is a staircase leading to a hallway—bedrooms and bathroom, you assume. Right before the stairs is the opening to the kitchen, where bright lights flood the carpeted floor and cast shadows against the wall of the brothers moving somewhere around the corner from where you stand.
It's cute. You like it. It's definitely his space. There's a certain feel to it that just reminds you of Joel. Maybe it's the smell or the leather couch or the ambient lighting that puts you at ease, the same way his voice and touch manage to do.
"Hey—"
Joel's head appears around the corner, pulling you out of your analysis with a smile.
"Sorry," you tell him, feet instantly moving to join them in the kitchen.
"Don't be," he says softly in your ear right as you walk by. His fingers brush your arm briefly, grounding you without even realizing it. "You hungry? I saved you some." Joel grabs his bag from the counter and sets it on his small kitchen table, where you're currently standing. Tommy is deeper into the kitchen, leaning against the stove, eating a wing with one hand and holding a glass bottle of beer in the other. He looks perfectly content, like he's home, and you get the feeling that maybe Joel's house acts like a second home to his family because that's just how Joel is. He's... open. Kind. Hospitable. Easy going. Sweet.
Shit.
"No, I'm okay," you say, clearing your throat. He saved you some of his food. "You eat it. I'll have heartburn for days if I eat that right now."
"I got other stuff, too," Joel says immediately while reaching for his fridge. But you quickly wave him off.
"No, really, I'm good. Just tired."
Joel opens the fridge anyway and grabs a few bottles of water. He tosses one to Tommy who narrowly manages to catch it after dropping a bone into his bag.
"Drink it," Joel says firmly, although the slight drunken wobble in his knees takes some of the edge away from his threat.
"I will."
"And don't leave the door unlocked like last night," Joel adds. He hands you a water and slips his hand over yours, leading you to the staircase. Before your foot hits the first step, you pause.
"Oh, I was..."
Joel stops and looks at you over his shoulder, patiently waiting for you to continue. He looks so endearing, all drunk and sleepy, and there's something extra appealing about watching him maneuver in his home. It's like exploring a side of him you haven't seen before. So what are you going to do? Are you really going to tell him you're going home instead of staying the night? It's so late as it is.
You think it over for about half a second.
"Nevermind," you smile, and his fingers squeeze yours before he turns to climb the stairs, leading you into his bedroom and shutting the door.
Joel drops your hand and moves into the room, flicking on the lights next to his bed and readjusting the grey sheets and comforter while you stand at the door with your water, taking everything in. This is Joel's most private space. He had no clue you'd be seeing it tonight. There's no way he could have prepared or hidden anything weird... what you're seeing is the real deal. The raw, honest version of his life. And... you like it. You like it.
His room is a bit messy, but that's fine. It's normal to have random articles of clothing draped over a hardly used treadmill in the corner. It's normal to have the top of a dresser filled with odds and ends he likely emptied from his pockets after too many long days. It's normal to have a hamper with dirty clothes hanging over the sides. There's nothing scary or strange here. There's nothing to "find".
Your gaze slowly slides over his king sized bed, where he just finished fixing the bedding. On one end table is a dead plant, an open magazine, and a television remote. The other has a coaster and his phone charger. But what really draws your eye is the artwork hung above his cherry spindle bed frame.
On the right is a vintage music festival poster for Club Deville. The center lists all of the musical acts in a warped font, the top advertises tacos and beer, and as if you couldn't already guess, Austin, TX is listed as the location on the bottom. There's an equally old looking poster for another festival on the left side of the wall, but this one has half of an acoustic guitar taking up a big chunk of the ad, along with the names of some acts you don't recognize. And right in the middle, taking up residence directly front and center, is a peaceful painting of a mountainous region with one single solitary deer in the foreground. You wonder if he chose it because something about the deer being all alone spoke to him, or if it was just a coinscidence.
"It ain't much," Joel fidgets slightly and you realize your silence may have unintentionally made him a little nervous, "but it's mine. Great neighbors, good schools, safe area." He moves to his dresser and begins rummaging for pajamas.
"I like it, too," you say softly. He pauses before twisting to look at you, but your eyes are back on the posters. "I didn't realize music was such a big interest of yours."
He follows your gaze and nods. "Yeah, I like to check out concerts when I can."
"And you play guitar?" you ask. Joel shuts a dresser drawer and tosses clean clothes onto the bed.
"Wouldn't say that. Used to, when I had more time. But now—" Joel strips his shirt over his head and you immediately lock onto his broad chest, "—I don't really practice as much. Can't seem to bring myself to get rid of the thing, though."
You feel a little hypnotized for a second as he stands there shirtless because it takes you until a fresh shirt is almost over his head when you blink and stop him.
"Wait, you've gotta shower," you say, stepping forward, "you stink like whiskey and cigarettes."
Joel frowns and lifts one arm to sniff himself. "I don't smell it."
"Of course you don't, you're nose blind to it by now. Don't put fresh clothes on—" You stop him again when he lifts his shirt to shove it over his head and he eyeballs you with a look you can read a mile away.
"You're just tryin' to get me naked."
"Oh, shut up," you say, but the smile that tugs across your face takes the bite out of your words.
Joel dramatically sighs in defeat and drops the clean shirt back on his bed. "Fine," he grumbles, undoing his belt buckle as he walks to the bathroom attached to his room, "but you're comin' with me."
"What? Why?"
"I'm drunk," he says over his shoulder. Then his jeans slide down his legs, along with his boxers, and your mouth goes dry at the sight of his bare backside. "Might fall 'n hit my head. You'll never be able to live with yourself."
You want to say something snippy in response, but you don't. Instead, you leave your water by the bed and pad across the carpet to the bathroom. This room isn't decorated that much, save for a fancy sounding soap next to his sink that you find yourself reaching for.
"Wouldn't take you for a shea butter and eucalyptus kind of guy," you say, taking a sniff. Behind you, the water is already turned on, warming up as you investigate the room further. But then Joel's hands are on your hips, lifting up your sweatshirt so his palms can glide slowly across your stomach and you pause.
"Gotta keep my hands soft f'you, don't I?" he murmurs in your ear before his teeth gently graze your lobe. Your eyelids flutter and you feel the heat already building below your neckline. Your head tips back to rest on his shoulder and his lips keep moving, grazing lightly over your throat while he pushes your sweatshirt up further.
You tilt your chin to the side so your mouth is right next to his ear. "But I like them a little rough," you whisper, then smile when you hear him groan.
"Yeah, I know you do, honey," he says gruffly against your neck. Goosebumps erupt over your skin from the scratch of his beard. His fingers splay wide across your hips and squeeze. "Goddamn, you're so pretty. Missed you so much."
"It's only been five days," you tease, squirming out of his hold. He pouts and your gaze drops to find him fully naked and half hard.
"Five very long days," he says, reaching for you again. You giggle and swat his hands away.
"Clean up first," you tell him. He rolls his head back and makes a frustrated noise before doing as he's told and turning his attention back to the shower.
"Not fair. Teasin' me like this," he says after he steps behind the glass door. You perch on the edge of his sink, swinging your legs playfully over the side as you strip your sweatshirt off. The steam from the shower and the heat of Joel's touch is too much, so you leave it in a pile with his clothes, not really caring if it smells like his night out when you pick it up tomorrow.
Of course, his gaze tracks the movement through the glass and he gives you an appreciative look when you're left in just a tight camisole and your sleep shorts.
"What'd I just say?"
You laugh. "It's hot in here!"
He rolls his eyes and grumbles something under his breath before reaching for his soap. You watch with your lower lip snagged between your teeth as he lathers up: white, foamy bubbles slide effortlessly down his strong arms, his broad chest, his thick cock. You swallow.
Joel glances at you every so often as you shamelessly watch those big hands glide over his dark hair, threading shampoo through the messy locks and then scrub mindlessly at his short beard. Your face must give you away, you think, because it's hard to hide the arousal building in your core the longer you stare. It's also impossible not to notice that he's now fully erect between his legs. The sight of his cock bobbing every time he turns around makes your thighs press together tightly, desperately trying to quell the ache.
Fuck it, you think, and slide off the counter.
"What're you doin'?" Joel asks when you crack open the glass door.
"Missed a spot," you say, reaching in to snag his washcloth. "Turn around."
He smirks and does as you say so you can pretend to wash a spot on his back when in reality, all you want to do is feel the heat and strength of his body under your fingertips.
"Get it?" he asks.
"Yep," you lie, and what happens next is so fast you hardly have time to register it.
Joel takes the washcloth with one hand and your wrist with the other, tugging you inside the shower and pressing you against the cool tile wall in a heartbeat. You squeal when the hot water from the shower head pelts your still very much clothed body, but Joel doesn't care. He presses his wet body against yours and kisses you so deeply that it steals your breath, and any sense that was left in your brain is gone.
Soaked clothes be damned. Your arms circle around his neck and your lips part, inviting his tongue to sweep inside your mouth, past your teeth, pulling a soft moan from your throat. Your hair sticks to your skin, along with your clothes. It's uncomfortable and messy but you don't care. You don't care. For the first time in forever, disorder doesn't bother you. The desire to live in the moment is overriding that voice in your head that is typically deafening, and it feels... exhilarating.
"Did I thank you for pickin' us up tonight?" Joel murmurs against your lips. Before you can answer, his fingers peel open your shorts and sneak past your panties. You gasp into his mouth and he smirks.
"No—no," you stammer when his finger finds your slit. He strokes you there a few times, refusing to touch your clit or press so much as a fingertip inside you.
"No?" he echos.
"Maybe. May—be you d-did..." You trail off because your muscles are going rigid with anticipation and it's pulling all your focus. "Can—can't remember."
Joel tuts under his breath. "Then lemme thank you in a way I'll know you remember."
Your head knocks back against the wall when one thick finger slips inside your pussy. The loud moan that leaves your mouth surely would have gotten Tommy's attention had Joel not muffled it with his lips. He kisses you with so much heat that your knees buckle, or maybe it's the way he crooks his finger just right inside you, it's hard to tell. Joel's free arm wraps around your waist for support when he feels you weaken, pinning you against the wall as the water falls in sheets around you both.
His name harshly rips from your throat when he adds a second finger. The stretch is sharp, your body is too tense, but it quickly melts into pleasure after a few snaps of his wrist.
"Goddamn," Joel breathes, "you're so wet for me."
You shudder when his thumb brushes a tight circle over your clit.
"It's—the water," you gasp unconvincingly.
Joel chuckles and dips his chin down to suck on your neck.
"Bullshit," he mumbles, "I saw the way you were droolin' over this cock, watchin' me. 'N if I could stand the feelin' of a wet condom, I'd be fuckin' you senseless right now."
A shiver rolls straight down your spine.
"I need these off," you pant, shifting your hips. "Take these off—please—"
The fingers inside you stall but remain right where they are while his free hand slips from your waist to tug down your sopping wet bottoms. They fall at your feet with a loud splat and you sigh with relief now that Joel has better access to your body, then he picks up right where he left off.
You whimper and squirm under his touch, body tightening around his fingers when he spreads them apart inside you, reminding you how much you can take and how easy it would be to slip his cock inside you right now.
An insane part of you, the one lost to the haze of pleasure he's currently pulling from your body, reaches down. Your fingers wrap around his cock and you almost angle it so you can sink down on it but the broken moan that falls from Joel's lips echos and skitters over the cool tile walls and stops you.
"Are—are you...?"
"More," he begs, then presses down firmly over your clit. Stars streak across your vision and you obey, sliding your fist up and down, feeling the way he twitches in your palm, reveling in the way he can't seem to remember his own name but he's still managing to fuck you deep and fast with two of his fingers.
"Fuck, that's it," he groans, "keep goin', j-just like that..."
White hot heat fills your body, spreads through your limbs and knocks the air from your lungs. His hips begin to rock steadily into your fist, chasing your touch. Your muscles pull tighter every time he presses his fingers against that devastatingly sensitive spot inside you, and it feels selfish to want more when he's making you feel so good, and yet—
"I want you to fuck me," you whine, "Joel, p-please, I wanna fee—"
His mouth sears over yours, probably shutting you up so he wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid. His tongue pushes into your mouth in rhythm with his fingers. It sets your skin on fire and makes you want to tear off your tank top so you can feel every inch of his warm, wet skin against yours.
When your thumb glides over the tip of his cock and your fist twists down with just the right amount of pressure, his palm slaps loudly against the wall next to your head and he comes, pouring his sticky release all over your fingers and groaning brokenly into your mouth.
"M'sorry," he gasps, hips still flexing, "oh, fu-uck, m'sor—"
"Don't stop," you rasp, clean hand coming up to clutch feverishly at his shoulder. His wrist snaps steadily, the heel of his hand slapping against your swollen clit, driving you higher and higher—literally. At some point you've risen to your tiptoes like your body is elevating but eventually there's no where else to go except to give in.
You bury your face into the crook of his neck when you come, body convulsing in waves as his fingers fuck you through it. Your hand is still wrapped around his cock, only loosening when your body goes limp and sags against his chest.
"Good girl," he whispers hoarsely. Your eyes flutter shut against his shoulder and you're so tired that you don't even wince when he removes his fingers, but you do crack an eye open when he raises his hand to his mouth without hesitation. You watch in a daze as he slides both fingers against his tongue, hollows his cheeks, and softly hums at the taste. Joel catches you staring and you think he's going to make some type of filthy joke, but to your surprise, his expression remains serious. He makes a show of taking his time, licking his fingers clean while you watch with your wet hair and cheek stuck to his shoulder. If it weren't for the water loudly falling around you, you're certain he would be able to hear your heart beating frantically in your chest.
"I know you don't like it," Joel begins after he slowly removes his clean fingers, "but you taste so fuckin' good, honey."
His words ricochet in your brain on a loop: you taste so fuckin' good, you taste so fuckin' good. Joel steps back and makes sure you can stand before helping clean your hand under the shower stream, then lifts the hem of your shirt over your head. It peels off like a second skin and joins the rest of your clothes in the tub. Next, he twists the shower knob to turn off the water and you watch him reach for a fresh towel. He wraps you up first, rubbing your arms to make sure you're warm, and you still haven't said a word. You taste so fuckin' good. Then he grabs one for himself and you watch dumbly as he dries his hair, then his upper body before tying the towel loosely around his waist.
You taste so fuckin' good.
"C'mon," he says softly, offering you his hand. You swallow tightly and shakily take it, allowing him to lead you out of the shower and back into his room. When the air conditioning hits your skin, you shiver, but Joel is quickly offering you a pair of his boxers and a well worn black tshirt. Your eyelids feel heavy as you watch him fall to his knees to help you step into the boxers, one leg at a time. The tips of his fingers trail lightly up the back of your leg with a look on his face like he's admiring a piece of art, then he gently removes the towel, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you topless. His eyes darken when they lock onto your breasts, your nipples hardening under his heavy gaze, but he doesn't try anything. He motions for you to lift your arms so you do, then the soft shirt that smells just like him is gliding over your skin and you swear you could fall asleep standing up, you're that comfortable. You taste so fuckin' good.
"Let's get some sleep, sweetheart," he murmurs after cupping your face and brushing his lips tenderly over your own.
It's not until the lights are off and his bare body is curved around yours that you feel brave enough to speak.
"It's not that I don't like it."
The arm that is draped over your waist stiffens slightly. It's the only indication he's heard you. You let the words settle in the air for a moment, not quite sure what to say next. Then Joel finally speaks.
"Wanna tell me 'bout it, or no?"
You swallow and stare into the darkness. Even though you couldn't see him anyway, you're glad he's behind you. It feels safer this way. Easier.
"I dated someone once," you say timidly, "who wasn't very... nice about it."
Joel stays quiet and lets you talk. He lets you say what you're comfortable saying and he doesn't push or grow impatient with how long it takes you to get the words out. His thumb just rubs soothingly over your hip, a reminder that he's listening.
"I can't... can't relax enough to really enjoy it anymore," you finally manage to admit. "I'm too in my head now. Being the only one wh—who gets anything from it... it's too much pressure or—something."
Joel's lips press against your shoulder blade but still remains silent. He can feel your muscles, every single one tense and practically trembling along the curve of his body.
"Can you please say something?" you whisper.
"If you don't want me to, I won't," he says softly, "but if you trust me enough one day to let me try, I promise you ain't gonna be the only one who enjoys it."
Your heart cartwheels in your chest. You want to believe him, but it's hard. It's so, so hard. You want to trust Joel, you really do, but you're just not ready yet. The walls you've built up took several years to build, and it's going to take some time to knock them down. But you feel a little lighter after sharing this small piece with him, so you figure that's a good sign.
"Can I ask you one thing?" Joel's voice is soft and deep against your back, and his body warming you under his covers is quickly putting you to sleep, but still you give him a sleepy mhmm.
"Where is he now?"
"Prison," you whisper before you can even consider lying. Maybe you didn't want to lie.
There's a pause, then when Joel speaks, the softness in his voice is gone.
"Did—did he... hurt you?"
You hear him, but you don't answer. You don't need to. He already knows.
***
You wake up the next morning to Joel's big hands sliding over the curves of your body, slowly, like he's trying not to wake you. And he's successful, for the most part, because you're aware of him but your head is still heavy with sleep and your muscles are so relaxed and loose in his comfortable bed, so you don't open your eyes. You let his hands wander under your—his—shirt, and bask in the warmth from the morning sun streaming through the window. Or, wait—that warmth might be coming from his body pressing firmly against your back. Either way, it's heavenly, so you let yourself drift.
"I like wakin' up with you in my bed," he mumbles before sucking on a spot behind your ear. Your skin flashes with goosebumps from the delicate graze of his beard and you smile—one thing about Joel is he will never let a vulnerable moment make you feel uncomfortable. Ending the night on a sensitive topic would normally leave anyone waking up feeling raw and exposed, but he knows well enough by now to understand you'll share more when you're ready.
"Shouldn't you be hungover?" you ask sleepily. His arms tighten around your torso.
"Nah. Got the cure right here," he says while simultaneously pushing his hips against your ass. You feel the hard outline of his cock and your pulse skips.
"Joel, your brother—"
"He can sleep through a hurricane," he says, cutting you off. Then his fingers drift up and brush gently over one of your nipples and your spine straightens. You don't fully believe him, but you're willing to test that theory because Joel is just too irresistible at the moment and hell, he's still completely naked. You feel it now when you reach back and circle your fist around his cock. A breath gets caught in your throat and his fingers gently squeeze your nipple with a grunt.
Your gaze sweeps over to the digital clock on his dresser and you convince yourself it's probably too early for Tommy to be awake yet anyway, so you release your hold on his erection and begin to push his boxers down your legs, but when you start to shimmy out of his hold to remove his shirt, he stops you.
"Leave it on," he mutters while squeezing your other breast, "I like it. Looks—looks good on you."
"Yeah?" you breathe with a smirk over your shoulder. Joel kisses you for the first time that morning with a soft mhmm, then pulls away to reach for his nightstand. Still laying on your side, you listen to the drawer open, then the telltale sound of foil crinkling before a beat of silence where you assume he's rolling on the condom. You make a move to roll over when he stops you, pressing his chest up against your back again.
"Wanna fuck you like this," he murmurs before hooking an arm under your knee and lifting it up. You gasp softly when your legs spread open so brazenly in the morning light, then shudder with anticipation because there's something you really like about being maneuvered in his bed like this, especially when you can't get a clear visual. When the tip of his cock bumps against your pussy, you nearly jump out of your skin. Luckily, Joel is still holding open your legs so he manages to keep you in position, but he still chuckles in your ear and whispers for you to stay still.
He notches at your entrance and hardly gives you a chance to breathe before pushing in. Your legs tense at the intrusion and your fingers grab at the pillow under your head for something to hold onto, but Joel's grip under your knee remains firm.
"Shit," he groans, "so fuckin' warm, Christ—"
He pushes in further, splitting you open inch by inch. One hand drops between your legs and your fingers spread around his girth so you can feel him enter you and—shit—he's so thick and it feels so good.
You whine his name through clenched teeth and squeeze your eyes shut, only remembering to exhale once his hips grow flush with your ass.
"You're so hard," you whimper. He shifts and drives himself even deeper, making your jaw drop.
"All 'cause of you, honey," he growls, teeth skimming your ear, then your throat. "Always 'cause of you. So fuckin'... soft 'n—pretty." He sounds pained behind you as he showers you with praise and you can't tell if it's because he's trying to stay quiet or if the deep rock of his hips sinking into your cunt is stealing his breath the same way it's stealing yours.
Your heavy gaze drops down between your legs, where you can just barely see him disappearing inside you over and over, but the angle is too severe to truly see it all. Instead, you have to imagine how your cunt looks stretched open on his cock, you feel how wet he is every time he withdraws his hips, you imagine how his knuckles have to be white with how hard he's gripping your knee.
"So good to me, lettin' me ha-have you like this," he pants in your ear, "what'd I do to—deserve you?"
You hum and arch your back, just a little. Just enough to allow him in deeper. Then your fingers drift up, away from where he's impaling you, and begin to draw slow circles over your neglected clit.
With a sigh, you start to roll your hips. You want to answer but you can't. Nothing comes to mind because... well. Frankly, it's still hard to comprehend he actually likes you as much as he says he does. But it's okay, because he's not really looking for you to reply. He's too fixated on the way your pussy flutters around his length and how your tits look bouncing softly inside his shirt with every deep thrust.
His trembling arm pinned under your side snakes up the front of your shirt and finds your right breast, palming and massaging it while he groans into the back of your neck. Heat burns through your limbs as you rub your clit faster, bringing yourself closer to the edge, but then Joel's hand releases your breast and drops to flick your fingers away. You almost cry out in protest but then the firm pad of his finger is there, pressing down and making you feel much better than you own hand.
"Gotta let me—take care of you sometimes," he says, "lemme give you what you need."
Your eyes roll back because Jesus Christ, easier said than fucking done. You've been taking care of yourself for so long, refusing to rely on anyone anymore after you've been burned, but here's this man—this strong, funny, sweet, sexy, man—who's begging you to let go a little and allow him to help you. And you want him to. You really want him to.
"Okay," you breathe. His hips jerk harder and he opens your hips wider.
"Good girl," he groans, and you have to turn to muffle the feral sounds that rip from your throat into your pillow. "Just wanna ta—take care of you, make you feel good."
"You do," you gasp, body jostling from the force of his thrusts. Your balance is fucked laying on your side but Joel has a good grip around you—you're not going anywhere. Your hand flies back to grab the back of his head, pulling his mouth down to your neck. His lips suction over your throat and then you turn your chin so he can kiss you, which he does. Without hesitation, his mouth seals over yours and his tongue parts your lips. Having him like this—pummeling you from behind, strong arm wrapped around your middle stroking your clit, soft lips moving perfectly against yours—it's an addicting feeling. The kiss only gets broken because the tip of his cock presses tightly against a spot that has you throwing your head back and gasping for air. Then his teeth are there, biting gently at your lower lip while hitting that same spot over and over and—
"Oh, fuck—" you moan, clawing at the back of his head while your muscles pull tight, "—fuck, Joel, I'm—"
The words get knocked out of you when he starts to fuck you faster. Hot puffs of air leave his mouth and cascade over your face and neck. He's struggling to hold on so you can come first and that just makes you even more turned on. Your cunt clenches around him in response and he gasps but doesn't stop. His fingers scrub at your clit and his hips collide roughly against your ass with so much determination that you're fairly certain if a bomb went off outside his window, he still wouldn't stop.
The heat builds bright hot in your belly and spreads to your thighs, which ache from being held open so long but you know the soreness will be worth it. In fact, you hope you are sore. You want to feel him whenever you move the rest of the day. You want to carry that secret reminder of how good he fucks you. The fantasy sends sparks behind your eyelids and you gasp his name, probably way too loudly, but you don't care anymore.
"That's it," he grunts, "let g-go, baby, c'mon. I ne—need it. Wanna wat—watch that pretty face when y-you come."
Baby. He doesn't call you that often, maybe only once or twice, but shit—hearing it today sets something off in your brain. His voice is so soft around the word, making it sound full of meaning rather than some throwaway term of endearment that gets picked in the heat of the moment.
Maybe he did that on purpose.
Maybe you really like it.
You open your mouth, ready to warn him, but your orgasm tears through you unexpectedly and instead your voice breaks over the words, splintering into the air as your vision blurs and your body gives in, jolting with pleasure in his hold.
You must have been too loud because when your senses start to return, you realize Joel's mouth is covering yours. But then a second later he's coming with a muffled groan of your name and you don't really care anymore because the hot throb of his cock between your legs is all you want to think about. At some point you pull his hand away from your clit, too overstimulated to take any more, but he's lost in his own hazy pleasure, still riding out his orgasm with weak, stunted rolls of his hips. You know it's over when a shudder rockets down his spine and his grip around your middle loosens, but you both still lay there, intertwined and breathless.
"Christ," he finally rasps, resting his sweaty forehead on your shoulder as he pants for air. You wince a bit when he drops your leg and immediately flex the joints to encourage circulation to return. Then his breath begins to level out and you feel the soft graze of his mouth over your skin before he sweeps the hair out of your eyes. "You okay, darlin'? Still with me?"
"Mhm," you reply, but your eyes are closed and your limbs are boneless, suggesting otherwise. "Think I need a nap," you mumble, then smile when you feel his fingers drift carefully over your face, like he's memorizing it. A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, you can feel it pressed against your back, jolting your body with his as he quietly laughs and kisses your cheek.
"You can stay here as long as you want," he says before shifting his hips back. His cock slips out of you and you make a soft noise but otherwise remain still. "Any time you want, for that matter."
"Asking me to move in already?" you giggle into the pillow.
"If it means I get to wake up to this every day, I'll start packin' your shit right now."
"You're crazy," you sigh before rolling onto your back. You're stiff as hell but you feel good. So, so good. Your eyes flutter open to find Joel leaning on his elbow, looking down at you with the dopey smile that shows off those goddamn dimples.
"Ain't my fault. You make me crazy."
"So it's my fault?"
"Yeah. Fuckin'—minx," he grins before cupping your cheek and kissing you so sweetly you almost forget he just fucked the life out of you like an animal. Almost.
You hum happily when he pecks a few small kisses against your lips, deciding to just let yourself enjoy the moment without worrying or overthinking or panicking or... any of the other bullshit you're prone to doing.
"I'm stealing this shirt," you whisper with your eyes closed, plucking feebly at the shirt he dressed you in the night before. His mouth twitches, you can feel the sharp bristles of his beard before he speaks.
"Anythin' you want, it's yours."
Your eyes pop open and give him a mischievous look. "Anything?"
He nods very seriously. "Anythin'."
You tap your chin for a moment before raising an eyebrow, which he returns as he waits for your request.
"How about breakfast?"
"What do you like?"
"Do you have eggs?"
"I do."
"And toast?"
"Got it."
"Extra butter?"
Joel laughs and pushes himself up. Your eyes trail over his stark naked body as he strolls casually to his bathroom.
"Comin' right up, honey."
He disappears into the room to dispose of the condom and clean himself up while you stretch out happily in his bed, like a cat in the sun. When he returns, he goes to his dresser for some clothes and you watch lazily as he gets himself ready.
"Alright, so," he says brightly, "eggs, toast with extra butter, and sausage. You stay right here—"
"I didn't say anything about sausage."
"Didn't have to. Know you already love it." Then he winks at you and you groan in disgust.
"You're gross."
"Ain't what you were sayin' twenty minutes ago."
You throw a pillow in his general direction and he ducks, missing the impact with a laugh. But when he reaches for the doorknob, you suddenly sit up in bed and clear your throat.
"Wait—"
He glances back at you and drops his arm to his side. He's still smiling and it makes you smile, too, because you put that smile on his face. You made him feel happy.
So, with only a slight tremor to your voice, you square your shoulders and swallow your nerves.
"I... have a crush on you."
His eyes slowly brighten and his smile widens. He takes a step forward, back in your direction, but then stops.
"You like me." It's not a question.
"I do."
"How much?"
Your mouth twists and you frown as if you're thinking, then hold up your thumb and forefinger, measuring about an inch of space between the two. "This much?"
"Bullshit," Joel laughs, and you can't help it. You laugh too, drop your hand in your lap, and tilt your head to the side.
"Yeah. You're right. That was bullshit."
And this time, he doesn't hold himself back. He crosses the room in three long strides and bends down, fists sinking into the mattress on either side of your hips, and he kisses you. It's firm and sweet and made all the better by your matching smiles. When he pulls away, your nose bumps gently against his when you speak.
"I like you a lot."
"I know," he whispers, taking away any chance of there being an awkward, vulnerable moment, then gives you one more quick kiss before straightening up.
"I'll be back," he tells you, turning towards the door once again. "Get some rest. I got a feelin' you'll like me even more after breakfast, you'll need your strength."
"Shut up," you giggle, falling into his sheets. The door opens then shuts and you lay there, content, surrounded by his scent and his things and his clothes. It's scary, you know that, but you can't stop yourself. It feels so good to be with him. And, hell, maybe he actually is different.
How else will you know unless you give it a try?
"Tommy! You left the goddamn door unlocked again!"
"Jesus, Joel, my fuckin' head—"
Then there's shuffling and grunting downstairs that sounds way too familiar and your eyes open to stare, unamused, at the ceiling.
Summary: Your an ancient species of pixies and run into the mandalorian, what starts as a three day mission turns into you never leaving. (First meet and few scenarios of your life after it. hopefully soon to have a part 2) 1.4K words
Requested: The mandalorian with a fairy/pixie wife and Grogu with his fairy/pixie mother
Masterlist
A/N: Got carried away writing this and now I wanna turn it into a mini series, already have headcanons and a part 2 planned and started writing. Disclaimer: is not accurate to mandalorian timeline and uses a made up Star Wars species so don’t come for em for any inaccuracies 😭
The first time you met Din Djarin was on some trading planet in a dingy cantina. The night had been slow so far, you’d been trying to talk to the bartender and a few other people sat around you but no one was really interested in making conversation. So when a mandalorian in full shiny beskar armour walks in your interest is very much peaked. From your place sat at the bar you observed him and how he cared for the cute green child next to him. You were dying to talk to him and mainly the child but you waited for them to settle first.
Unbeknownst to you due to his helmet, whilst he sat there observing his surroundings while grogu was eating, his eyes focused on you, noticing that you would not stop talking whether to yourself or the bartender who definitely wasn’t listening he didn’t know. He could see your eyes unmoving from him and grogu but didn’t feel threatened by your presence so didn’t feel the need to keep his hands over his weapon. Your presence almost calmed him maybe it was due to the fact you were glowing, literally glowing. It wasn't unusual to encounter strange species in the galaxy. Din had spent enough years bounty hunting to know there was always something lurking on some forgotten moon and the green child next to him was proof there was always a new species to encounter.
But you? You looked like a myth. Small, at least compared to most humanoids looking as though you’d barely reach Din's shoulder. Delicate iridescent wings folded against your back with golden freckles scattered across your cheeks like stars.
You eventually made your way over to din after not being able to hold yourself back anymore, excitement at seeing something as cute as grogu take over you. You had slid into his booth and immediately started chatting his ear off. His visor just stared at you, occasionally making a noise in response. He only put up with you because you seemed to make Grogu very happy, atleast that’s what he told himself , he was in constant fits of giggles beside him because of you. He noticed you even let him pull your food away from in front of you with nothing but a smile on your face. Din himself couldn’t help but be warmed from your actions a rare smile forming on his face behind the armour. Amongst your chatter he had learned that you belonged to an ancient species called the Aurali, a species so rare most people believed they were fairy tales. He felt sympathy for you knowing what it felt like to be one of the last of your kind.
It was a day or two later when he ran into you again, Din had accepted a simple transport job, to deliver a passenger it was easy credits and shouldn’t have complications. That passenger had turned out to be you. A naturalist who spent her days exploring planets, collecting strange plants, helping random strangers, and accidentally causing chaos everywhere you went.
The mission had originally been scheduled for three days but once that time was up you didn’t leave both parties finding reasons, or rather excuses as to why you needed to stay and so what should have been three days then became three weeks. Three weeks eventually became three months and somehow months further down the line you still hadn’t left. Not because Din had asked, of course not, Din Djarin would never ask something like that. Instead you simply stayed whether to babysit the child while he went on a mission or help around in your own way and Din never said anything because he found he quite liked your company but if anyone were to ask it was because of the love Grogu had for you.
Each day spent aboard the razor crest brought something new some days you were helping repair the Crest and the next you were making Grogu tiny flower crowns. Others were less pleasant and brought danger and pain but somewhere along the way you all became a makeshift family.
You currently sat on the Razor Crest's control panel, talking Dins ear off while he concentrated on something, a regular occurrence at this point. "You know" you said cheerfully, kicking your feet, "if you keep staring at hyperspace too long you start seeing shapes” Din kept his eyes on the viewport.
"I know”
"Last week I saw a bantha”
"Mm”
"It was dancing”
"Mm”
"And then it exploded”
Silence. You leaned closer. “That wasn't a normal response”
"I'm used to your chaos”
"Oh” You grinned. “That's actually kind of sweet” Din immediately regretted speaking. From his seat behind, Grogu giggled. The little traitor din thought. The galaxy had thrown you into Din's life completely by accident or perhaps by fate but you brought so much warmth with you how could he complain.
"Din!"
He immediately sighed, you were using his name. Which meant trouble.
"Diiiiiin!"
Definitely trouble. He entered the cargo hold where you were stood on top of a crate covered in blue paint. Grogu sat beside you, also covered in blue paint.
Din just stared, internally sighing at what he’d just walked into.
"What happened?"
You pointed dramatically. “The child started it”
Grogu made an innocent noise, Din turned his visor to stare at him and he immediately hid behind your leg. Coward.
"You gave him paint” he said blankly, you could feel the unimpressed look through his armour.
"In my defense, I thought he was creating art”
Grogu proudly pointed to a handprint which was on the wall.
Din closed his eyes, not that you could see but you did hear the deep, modulated sigh he let out.
Of course. The wall. Why not the wall? Why not permanently stain his ship? The Razor Crest clearly hadn't suffered enough.
"Can you explain this?" he asked.
"Absolutely” You straightened, ready to dive into your explanation.
"First, Grogu discovered paint”
"Mhm”
"Then he discovered fingerprints”
"Mm”
"Then he discovered walls”
Din nodded slowly. "Then?"
You smiled sheepishly. "Then things escalated” you raised your arms in a half shrug not managing to suppress your smile.
Though you caused Din enough stress to knock 10 years off his life he couldn’t deny the happiness that you brought to both him and Grogu. You made Grogu happier than he'd ever seen him. The child adored you, maybe it was because your species naturally radiated warmth through the Force or because you were just a soft touch when it came to him, never being able to say no to anything he wanted. Either way, Grogu followed you everywhere, like a tiny green shadow. If you were cooking, he was there. If you were exploring, he was there. If you were getting into trouble...unfortunately he was there.
One afternoon Din found both of you missing, a terrifying discovery because missing usually meant danger. He searched the Crest, no sign of either of you. He managed to pick up on faint laughter coming from outside around the other side of the ship. Sure enough, there you were. Safe. He managed to breathe out a small sigh of relief before striding over to you two. You lay before him in a field of glowing flowers with Grogu curled up against your side fast asleep.
Your wings shimmered softly in the sunlight while tiny specs of lights floated around you, he suspected Aurali magic. Din stood there quietly. Just watching how you looked so peaceful, content and beautiful. For once the galaxy wasn't trying to kill any of you. Then Grogu opened one eye, saw Din standing above and did his little wave then promptly fell asleep again. The kid had somehow become even more relaxed than before, snuggling deeper into your side. You slowly peeled open your eyes.
"Hi”
"Hi” he breathed, smiling beneath his helmet.
You smiled brightly up at him “Want to join us?"
"No”
"Okay” you shut your eyes but the smile remained on your face. A pause then you said
"There's room”
Another pause. Din turned away looking at the flowers then looked back at you then to Grogu.
Eventually he sat down making you grin triumphantly.
"I win”
"I didn't agree to anything”
"You sat”
"So?"
"That's basically affection from you” and he couldn’t deny the way his heart warmed at the sight of his child and you snuggled up next to him, how he longed to reach out and touch you.
warnings: 18+ smut & angst ; riding, finger sucking, joel eating you out, cream pie. i hope i got everything.
summary: you and joel met in a bar one night after he bought you a drink. ever since you've been fuck buddies. it's been months and he still has yet to leave you like all your past arrangements. to you, it's more than just fucking each other, you have real feelings for him. the only problem is you're scared of what would happen if you asked him to stay, but you do it anyways.
WC: 1.4k
AN: this is my first time EVER writing smut so i ammm sooo nervous. so sorry if this is bad but this song will not get out of my head and it was giving cowboy joel miller so i had to write it out. ENJOY
“You're a wild horse
I always had a thing for cowboys, baby
California's damned
Lovers come and go, but could you stay with me?”
inspired by " West Coast Prayer " by Nessa Barrett
“Keep going, baby,” He whispers as his lips brush against my ear. “Don’t stop.”
I try to ignore the feeling I get when he calls me “baby”. I have to remember it’s just sex talk.
I keep rolling my hips back and forth to catch that tightness that builds in my lower stomach. I look up at Joel, who is watching me as I continue to ride him. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, so I take it off and put it on myself.
“You’re something else.” He murmurs with a smirk as he moves his rough hand from squeezing my hip up to my face.
He cups my cheek and glides his thumb across my bottom lip.
“Fuckin’ riding me like a cowgirl.” He grunts. “My little cowgirl.”
I giggle and take his thumb into my mouth. I moan while I bob up and down on it, twirling my tongue. I never break eye contact with him.
“Oh, fuck” I pant out as he starts to fuck up into me. I choke out a sob as he doesn't skip a single beat, his cock moving in and out of me.
This is normal for Joel and me. We’ve known each other for a bit now. I was sitting at a bar alone in Hollywood when the bartender set down a shot in front of me.
“I didn’t order this,” I told the guy.
“I know you didn’t, but he did.” He points over to the man in the cowboy hat at the end of the bar top.”
I always had a thing for cowboys.
I look over as he tilts his hat and gets up to walk towards me. “Mind if I join?”
He’s gorgeous. Tall, has the perfect amount of facial hair, and dark brown eyes. He’s older, I can tell, but that hasn’t ever stopped me before.
“I don’t mind at all.”
The chit-chatting lasted about 5 minutes until he was throwing me around in the backseat of his Chevy.
“Shit! Yes! Just like that–fuckkkkkkk” I cried out as Joel was fucking me senseless.
Ever since then, we’ve sort of become good friends that fucked. In the past, when I’ve had agreements like this, it lasted a week or two before the guy I was with got bored and moved on. With Joel, it felt different. It’s been going on for about five months now, and he has yet to leave me.
That’s the scary part. I don’t want him to leave me, but I could never tell him that.
“Ya’ gonna come for me, baby?” He takes his hand and pushes it between our sweaty bodies. I feel his fingers rubbing on my clit, and it’s like lightning shoots over my entire body. The feeling of his fingers and cock feels so good, I never want it to stop.
“Yes, Joel, keep playing with my pussy. God yes!” He does what I say.
My vision starts to blur, so I throw the cowboy hat somewhere around the room and bury my face into his neck as I release onto him. He’s right there with me as I feel him fill me up with his come. Something I’ve grown very fond of ever since I got my IUD.
“That’s my good girl. I can feel you pulsing around my cock. Shittt.” He says as he slows down his thrusts. He holds my body against his, both hands sprawled across my back.
I begin to place small kisses against his neck, hoping it sends him a sign that it's more than sex to me. I don't want to only be affectionate during intimacy, but outside of it.
He moves my face out of his neck and pauses right before our lips touch. We breathe in each other's air for a second while he stares into my eyes, then our lips finally meet. His tongue massaging against mine. He makes noises that go straight to my clit.
One hand stays on my back, while the other cups my breast. His fingers pinch my nipple, which makes me whimper into the kiss.
Our lips finally break apart, and he lifts my hips up off his cock. I hiss as he watches his come spill slowly out of me, dripping down my slit.
“That view never gets fucking old.” He takes his fingers to scoop some come up and push it back inside me.
It’s dirty, filthy even but it honestly just gets me wet again.
He lifts me off his lap and sets me up against the headboard. He moves to lay on his stomach in front of me and I already know what he’s up to.
“Joel, I’m too sensitive right now,” I tell him as I’m still recovering from that orgasm. He hums as he kisses up my thighs, getting closer and closer to my pussy.
“I’ll be gentle, baby. Let me clean you up.” I give in because the pain of the sensitivity starts to turn into pleasure. He licks from my hole all the way to my clit, and I’m already squirming.
He laps up his come that’s spilling out and swallows it. I feel his tongue start to fuck into my pussy, and I already feel another orgasm building up.
I bring my fingers up to his hair to hold his head in place.
“Shit Joel, you’re so good to me.” I jerk against his face.
And once again, I’m coming on him as he moans into my pussy.
“Fuck baby,” he breathes out, “I will never get sick of watching you come.”
He crawls up to me to give me a kiss on my forehead as he pushes his body against mine.
We sit there for a bit, him lightly running his fingers up and down my back while I have my hands playing with the ends of his hair.
It’s perfect. It’s all I want. To stay here in bed with him. To pretend like this is more than us messing around with each other. Just me and Joel.
Then the part I dread comes.
“I should probably go.” He sighs out. He says it as if it hurts him, but he does it anyways.
He starts finding his clothes that were thrown around the room from when we first got back to my apartment. I don’t say anything but turn my back towards him in the bed while he gathers his things.
“Y/N?” I don’t respond.
He walks over to my side and crouches down so we’re face-to-face. My eyes were watery with tears, and the feeling of him not wanting me.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” he says as he brushes my hair behind my ear.
There's that pet name again.
I stare into his eyes and see how they are filled with concern. He’s trying to get a read on me.
I can’t do this anymore. Not without my feelings getting hurt.
“Why do you always have to go? Why can’t you just stay here with me?”
He scans over my face. His lips part like he's going to say something, but nothing comes out. I roll my eyes.
"Forget it, Joel. Just go." I say as I realize my assumptions of him only seeing us as fuck buddies are confirmed by his silence.
"N-No, Y/N, ya’ just took me by surprise, is all." He looks worried. "Do ya' really mean it? Ya’ want me to stay?" He brings his hand up to cup my cheek and wipes a tear that I didn't know had fallen.
"I always want you to stay." I whisper under my breath.
"Oh, baby, I'm sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He says as he climbs back in the bed next to me. His arms wrap around me as I start to sob against his chest. “Ya’ never asked me to stay. It hurt me every time I had to leave ya’ baby doll. I’m sorry that I never realized ya’ wanted me here.”
He holds me until my cry’s calm down. I think I even fall asleep for a short amount of time from just having my eyes closed and being exhausted from what took place before this conversation.
He breaks the silence. “It was never just sex to me, Y/N.” I want ya’ to know that. I was just trying to let ya’ take the lead. I never wanted to make ya’ uncomfortable. I would’ve stayed with ya’ every night if I could, shit, I should’ve tried.”
I move myself out of his arms and sit in front of him. “You could never make me uncomfortable, Joel.” I smile at him. “Never.”
“C’mere, baby.” He says as he moves to where I can straddle him. Our foreheads touching each other as we look into each other's eyes. “I’m not goin' anywhere.”
Pedro meets a pretty young woman at a bar who seems to have no idea who he is. Intrigued by this, he ends up hooking up with you. Months into your relationship, you have something to confess.
Contains: smut, p in v, consensual protected sex, condoms, age gap (50&29), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, feral!Pedro, lying, angst, crying, bad conscience about age gap, bodily fluids, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, mild dom/sub dynamic, reassurance, aftercare, fluff, love confessions, nervousness, mild pain during sex, comfort
Wordcount: 12,656
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Pedro laughed and put his glass back on the counter with a low thud.
"Oh shut up…" he grinned, feeling heat spread in his cheeks from being the center of attention. Or maybe it was the alcohol in his system.
"No, no, no…" his friends disagreed in unison, raising their glasses to celebrate him.
Despite the faint flattery, Pedro felt the good mood in his bones. He had just finished a movie that had taken many months of hard work, so of course his head would have been swimming even without the whiskey in his glass.
He was in a bar with his best friends, he could use his next few weeks to rest, and he was satisfied with the outcome of the movie. Indeed, there was reason to have a good time tonight.
"Next round is on me!" Pedro laughed, even though half of his friends couldn't hear him over the loud noise around them. The other half shook their heads in protest, but he was faster than them. As swiftly as the wind, Pedro stood up from the table, grabbed his wallet and swayed his index finger in front of them.
"I insist!" he shouted, giving them a wry smirk before heading for the counter where people were lined up in front of the bartender like children watching animals behind the fence at a zoo.
"Can I get another round for my friends?" Pedro asked the bartender, a young man with a dark beard and piercing grey eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. He just hoped the man wouldn't look too closely and make a scene in the middle of the bar. Most of the time, Pedro didn't mind taking one or two pictures with fans, but the place was pretty crowded, and since he wanted to celebrate with his friends, he wasn't keen to draw everyone's attention to him and wait for such a long time while everyone was having their share of him.
"Of course!" the young man said and gave him a friendly nod. If he had recognized him, he didn't hint at it, which Pedro was relieved by.
"Excuse me…"
He briefly flinched at the voice of a woman, a heaviness settling in his stomach. Shit. Well, now he would have to get through it and just hope that the woman wouldn't inform anyone else in the bar of his presence.
"You dropped something."
Pedro finally turned around, glaring at you through narrow eyes.
"What?"
"You dropped something. Here you go."
You quickly lowered yourself to the floor and picked up a small item, throwing your hair over your shoulder as you straightened up. With a shy smile, you handed him his wallet, which must have fallen out of his back pocket.
"Thank you – so much," Pedro stammered, taken aback by the unexpected encounter. He had been certain that you approached him to ask for a picture, but there was nothing shimmering in your eyes that resembled recognition or excitement. Just… kindness.
You were young, significantly younger than him. Maybe around thirty or in your late thirties, tops. But gosh, you were pretty, and he was positive that it wasn't just the dim light shining onto your face in such an intimate way. There was something about you causing his nerves to prickle and his mouth to dry up.
"I'm sorry, I'm an idiot. I always keep my wallet in my pocket, but it has fallen out a million times before. Thank you, honestly. Can I – Can I thank you by buying you a drink?"
Your grin broadened, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, though you seemed a little unsettled.
"Really? I mean, I – you don't have to. Seriously."
"I want to," Pedro simply said over the noise and took a step toward the counter.
His friends could wait. This was more important.
Pedro couldn't remember when the last time was that he had met someone your age who didn't know his name or any other personal details about his life. Usually, at this point in a conversation, the other person would have shoved their phone in his face, told him about their favorite projects of his and asked him for a hug. Not that he minded his fame, he really didn't. Yet it was refreshing to stand in front of a woman who had absolutely no intentions or expectations. Someone who was getting to know him like human beings usually did when one of them wasn't a famous actor. Pedro hadn't experienced it in so long that he felt almost eager to find out what it was like. Of course, he would buy you that drink if it meant talking to you just a little longer.
"Thank you. Okay…" you whispered and took your seat on a stool while Pedro ordered two Mojitos.
"Is that okay? Do you like Mojitos?" he asked, which made your eyes light up.
"Yes. Of course, yeah," you answered and crossed your legs, drumming your fingers on the counter.
"Good. I'm sorry, I just ordered without asking you, which is kind of stupid because I wanted to invite you…"
"It's fine. Seriously."
Taking his bottom lip between his teeth, Pedro exhaled softly. "Are you here with friends?"
"Yes. But they kind of ditched me."
His eyebrows lifted, curiosity sparking on his face. "Ditched you how?"
"Well, the plan was to come here with three friends. One of them asked to bring her girlfriend last minute. We agreed, but I should've known that the two of them would leave after an hour, which is exactly what happened. The second one met a guy while waiting in the bathroom line, and the third one just got a phone call and left to pick up her friend because she got arrested."
Pedro's features drew with disbelief, his eyes wide but a feeble grin tugging at his lips.
"Arrested?"
"It's nothing bad," you uttered, making a dismissive hand gesture. "She drove too fast, that's it."
"So they just left you here alone?" Pedro wanted to know and rested his right elbow on the counter, slightly leaning in.
"Yeah. Which is why I planned to leave. That was right before I saw your wallet fall out of your pocket." You smiled, allusively glancing at the brown leather, glinting in the bright light. Pedro now held it in his hand, just in case he would drop it again and there wouldn't be someone to help him as you had.
"I'm really sorry. That doesn't sound like a good night."
"Oh, I don't mind. Besides… I'm not so alone now, right?"
Pedro bared his teeth as he gave you another smile. You were definitely interesting, that much was for sure. A young woman alone in the bar after her friends had ditched her… And a woman who was seemingly unaware of his identity. Pedro wondered whether you just didn't recognize him like that, the room a little dark and his hair messier than usual, or if you just hadn't seen his face before. At least, he could rule out the possibility of you being drunk. You were able to stand steadily on your own, and he couldn't smell any alcohol on you after all.
"No, you're not."
"Oh, but I don't wanna occupy you if you're – are you here with people? Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you away from them. I mean, if you're not on your own."
Your eyes were wide as though you had just realized something that made you deeply regret your previous phrasing. It made Pedro grin, though he tried to hide it in order to spare you the embarrassment. He didn't want you thinking that he was laughing about you.
"I was the one who bought you that drink, wasn't I? You think I would've done that if I didn't wanna be… occupied?"
If Pedro wasn't mistaken, you were blushing, your pupils scurrying over the counter as though searching for something.
"Right…"
"But to answer your question: Yes, I'm here with friends."
"Oh, great!" you said and took a swig from your Mojito, which the bartender had placed in front of you, as well as one cocktail in front of Pedro.
"Is it your birthday?"
"What makes you think that?" Pedro chuckled before remembering the homemade crown one of his friends had put on his head a little earlier. On the back, the name of the movie that had just wrapped filming could be read, but it seemed like you hadn't spotted the lettering so far.
"Oh, right… No, it's not my birthday. It's just… work stuff."
"Work stuff? What do you mean?" you laughed and tilted your head to the side.
"Well, we had a major success today. So my friends and I decided to go for a drink." It wasn't even a blunt lie. Wrapping a film in time definitely counted as a major success.
"Oh great! I'm so happy for you. What do you do?"
Pedro realized that he had reached a dead end if he didn't want to keep the lie up. Normally, he wouldn't have cared, since you were a stranger that he probably would never see again, but the idea of coming up with a completely dishonest story made his stomach twist. He didn't know why, but Pedro didn't want to tell you a false tale. But neither did he want this quite appealing dynamic to shift by telling you who he was. Even if you had never heard of him, one click on your phone would be enough to find out that he wasn't just a normal guy grabbing a drink at the bar with his friends.
And what would happen then? There was a good chance you would ask for a selfie, but what was even more likely was that you would start acting differently around him. That was what people did most of the time when they discerned his face behind his large sunglasses or underneath the cap he had pulled deeply into his face. Pedro rarely complained about it since he had enough people in his life who kept him grounded and viewed him as their friend or a family member instead of a celebrity, but it hadn't gone unnoticed by him either. How their voices became higher, their behavior a little tense as they made an extra amount of effort around him.
In the end, Pedro decided to find a balance. He wouldn't lie to you but just not go as much into detail as he would have had to in order to give you the whole picture.
"Oh, I'm working on film sets. Just a bunch of boring stuff."
"Film sets? Oh wow," you whispered, giving him a look of sheer admiration. No, this was exactly what he didn't want.
"It's not that exciting. I swear to you. It sounds so glamorous, but it's mostly just waiting around, following orders and going home tired."
Fortunately, your expression softened at that, and he felt like he had the version he had just met in front of him again. Good.
"But I hope you're not tired today," you smirked, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. "I mean, you have to celebrate whatever that success is you're celebrating."
Pedro didn't know whether you were consciously sending him signals by toying with your hair like that, but he liked to believe that you did. Because it fit exactly with the fluttering of his heart. God, you were cute. And somehow, although he had met you not more than five minutes ago, it felt so easy and effortless talking to you. Or it was the mere fact that it had been years since he had met a person like that. In a crowded bar, his wrist still hurting from the many autographs he had given on set earlier, and a person in front of him who saw him for what he was instead of his name and profession. Pedro didn't like to get all self-pitiful and complain about things that others were working hard for their whole lives, but in that moment, he simply appreciated the circumstances and the fact that out of all people, it had been you who had picked up his wallet.
"No," he grinned, resting his chin on his palm. "I'm not that tired today."
Ten minutes later, Pedro had bought a second drink for you, gin this time.
His friends were long forgotten, and so was the fact that he had promised himself not to stay too long but rather have a good night's rest after those weeks of long shooting days.
This was much better.
You were just throwing your head back, laughing about something Pedro had said, which he had already forgotten. It wasn't hard to get distracted by your beautiful laugh, how your lips parted and how confidently you showed your teeth while your whole body trembled. He liked when people laughed with their whole body, and he especially loved it when people weren't afraid to show their joy.
"I had the worst haircut at around 14," you told him, shaking your head at the seemingly horrible memory. Right, the two of you were talking about hairstyles, and Pedro had just told you about some of his worst decisions regarding his appearance throughout the years.
"You got any photos?"
"Definitely not," you giggled and raised your index finger. "A few years later, when I realized how awful it was, I literally went around and deleted all the evidence. I think my grandmother might have a picture in her drawer, but she had to promise me that she's never gonna take it out of there."
"Well, I guess we're gonna have to visit your grandmother then," Pedro whispered, his mouth curled and his eyes sparkling. "What was it? You're gonna let me guess?"
"Sure." You challengingly folded your arms and twisted your lips.
"Mhm… A bowl cut that went wrong?" Pedro asked and tried to picture how it might have looked on you. He couldn't imagine that any haircut would make you look bad, though.
"No. Though the part about it going wrong is correct."
"Did you cut it yourself?" Pedro wanted to know, working his brain to come up with more ideas for the most horrible hairstyles that might have been fashionable fifteen years ago.
"No, a friend of mine did. She's actually one of the friends I came here with today."
"It can't be that bad then. If you're still friends."
You laughed at that, then finally cleared your throat to reveal the truth about your haircut.
"You know, I wanted bangs. Because everyone had bangs. And so my friend started cutting, and she cut it too short. And then she tried to make it look less radical by cutting the hair around my face, and in the end, I had a mullet. And even a very bad one."
His eyebrows shot upward, Pedro pursed his lips, trying to figure out what you might have looked like.
"But people wear mullets again, don't they?"
"Not mine. Definitely not mine."
Pedro burst into laughter, really craving to see a picture that captured that moment in your life, but before he could ask for it again, you emptied your glass and shyly wiped over your mouth with the back of your hand.
"I really don't want you to stay away from your friends because of me…" you admitted, peering at him through your lashes, which frankly, drove him insane.
He couldn't let you go yet. And if he had to, he at least needed something from you: your phone number or your name on Instagram. But at that point, you finding out about his true job would be inevitable. Unless… you didn't just not know his face but also his name. It would be worth it, wouldn't it? The alternative was to part ways with you and never see your pretty face again. Never see again how you nibbled at your thumbnail, only to quickly drop it once you realized what you were doing.
"I told you, I don't mind. I… I'm rather fond of such lovely company."
Heat shot to your face at his compliments, painting your cheeks a light red and making his stomach bubble with excitement and a delightful warmth.
"And what about them?"
"Oh, they surely haven't even noticed my absence," Pedro lied, hoping none of them were searching the room too extensively for him. Perhaps the alcohol had done its job, and they were all too busy singing along to the music or gossiping about anyone they had ever met instead of bothering about his whereabouts.
"Are you sure?"
"A hundred percent sure."
With that, Pedro swallowed hard, moistening his throat. "Besides… I just don't feel like leaving you here alone."
You looked slightly to the side, finger nervously tapping on your thigh.
"You don't need to worry about me," you whispered, chewing on your lower lip.
"But I do. And to be honest, I'm also just a very selfish man who doesn't feel like letting you go just yet."
"You're selfish?" you repeated, a mischievous glimmer in your pupils.
"I can be very selfish. If I want something very badly."
"Then I better not get in your way, right?"
He drew a deep breath, relishing your little cat-and-mouse game, which was precisely to his liking.
"Oh, but I want you right there. In my way." Pedro shifted a little closer, his knee touching yours.
"Well, what do you want?" you whispered, darting your eyes up at him, a thin, glossy layer hanging over them. There were multiple possible explanations for your agitation, but Pedro prayed it had to do with him and not the empty glass in front of you. Shit, he felt the alcohol as well, but at least he was certain he would have been just as smitten with you if he had stayed sober. You were too enchanting and adorable not to feel drawn to, no matter his alcohol level.
"Do you really wanna know?" Pedro whispered in your ear, your heads so close now that his friends at the table probably wouldn't have made out his face among the many people. If only there hadn't been that stupid crown on top of his head…
"Yes," you panted, your hands gripping the edge of the counter as his breath fanned your earlobe.
"Are you sure? Because it's… bad. It's not what I should say to such a lovely girl like you, who I've just met."
"I wanna know," you insisted, almost begging him with your quiet voice. Pedro saw stars, his head spinning and his body feeling so limp he craved something to hold onto. What had he done to deserve someone so sweet and perfect? He wanted you so badly, and he didn't even know in what way.
On one hand, he couldn't stop thinking about getting you into his bed, undressing you, and fucking you while you continued to make those beautiful sounds for him, but on the other hand, he didn't want this evening to end with a one-night stand after which Pedro and you would never see each other again.
"Please," you muttered, which caused the last thread holding his composure together to snap. His hand found your hip, fingers digging into your flesh as his lips touched your ear.
"I wanna have you naked underneath me," he said bluntly, hoping that it wasn't too much and that you wouldn't be appalled by his directness. You had asked for it, though, hadn't you? With wide eyes, you glared up at him, even though it hadn't diminished your arousal in any way. There was something innocent about you, but maybe it was just the fact that you were so much younger than him. He shouldn't want you like this, but his critical thinking was overcast by the alcohol, by the stuffy air in here, the beauty you emitted, and his desire to touch you without your stupid jeans in the way –
"Please take me with you," you suddenly whispered, interrupting Pedro's quite chaotic train of thought.
"You want me to take you with me? Where?"
For a brief second, something like nervousness flickered across your face, your teeth grazing your bottom lip.
The bathroom.
Yes, that would be an option. But then again, it wasn't really how Pedro imagined things. You deserved better than to be fucked over some dirty sink. Especially because he hoped things wouldn't be a one-time thing. Christ, what was he even doing here… He was supposed to enjoy a casual night out with his friends after finishing a movie, and now he was about to abandon them for a young woman he couldn't get out of his head.
"I want you," you whispered, putting your hand on top of his, beckoning him to trace it higher up your leg.
"You wanna come home with me?" Pedro really prayed that you would agree to see him again. Should he ask now, or would that come across as strange?
"Yes… Please." It seemed as though you had forgotten all about not wanting to rip him away from his friends, just like Pedro had. Because you didn't protest—or in fact, say anything—as he guided you out of the crowded bar a few minutes later, hoping that no one would recognize him now. It would have been quite possibly the worst development.
But Pedro was lucky. His hand firm on the small of your back, he held the door open for you and then drew a heavy breath through his mouth once the two of you were outside. It was so quiet all of a sudden that his ear rang, and when he cleared his throat, his own voice sounded unfamiliar to him.
"You still wanna do this?" Pedro chuckled, even though he found it an odd thing to say just a few seconds later. Your lips curved, your hand reaching for his wrist to pull him toward you.
"Yes. I do. If you promise me you won't tell anyone."
His mouth crashed into yours before he could think about it properly and come to the conclusion that it would be unwise to kiss a stranger in the middle of Manhattan.
Fuck it.
No one would recognize him anyway in the dark, his face covered by your head. Still, Pedro gently shoved you toward the black van waiting for him a few feet down the street, which would take the two of you to his apartment in the West Village.
"Why?" he spoke against your lips, bringing his hands to your waist.
"Because I've never done something like that before…"
Your words, or rather, the content of them, ignited a little fire within his heart. God, he shouldn't feel so turned on by the fact that you were throwing all your habits overboard in order to go home with him. And, of course, there was your unawareness of his stardom and the thought that you had no special interest in him beyond your sexual desire. You didn't want to fuck him because his name was Pedro Pascal, but because you wanted him. You had met a stranger in the bar, someone you felt so attracted to that you were trusting him to take you to his apartment.
"I won't tell anyone…" he murmured and hummed gently, seeing that your back was about to touch his car.
"Careful…" he whispered and knocked on the window of the passenger seat. His driver nodded in understanding, and a second later, the rear doors were unlocked.
"You… why do you have a driver?" you asked quietly, but allowed Pedro to help you inside without hesitation.
"I told you, I work in film."
That was all the answer you got for now, even though he was positive you would have more questions once the two of you were at his apartment, located on one of New York's most expensive streets.
The car started moving, and Pedro's hands were immediately all over your body again, this time taking hold of your face and neck.
"I'm y/n, by the way," you panted, your index and middle fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt.
"Pedro."
His heart skipped a beat, waiting for a suspicious noise of realization from you, but it didn't come. Thank god.
"Do you think we should…" you began, clearly reluctant to make out in the car with the driver just a few feet away, but Pedro just pushed his face against yours and stroked up your thigh. Of course, you were right, and he should just wait the five-minute drive to his apartment, but he had a hunch that sitting next to you without touching you would be impossible. Your scent, your silky hair, your warm skin were all too tempting to just sit there, actionless. Besides, his driver was much too professional to comment on his feral behavior.
"It's okay. Just relax… Let me help you relax."
Faces squeezed together, Pedro's hand quickly dropped to the opening of your jeans, where he hastily undid the button and zipper. He didn't have much time, but he wanted to give you at least something before their arrival. Most of all, it was his selfish, egoistical yearning to hear your pretty voice beg him for more while he was taking you up to his apartment… Yes, that was the kind of outcome he was hoping for. Leading you up the staircase while your glossy eyes glanced up at him in awe of the things he had just made you feel in the car. Your lips parted, eager and hungry for more.
"Huh. Fuck, I - " you stammered, sucking uneven breaths through your teeth while Pedro nimbly slid his right hand past your waistband like it was exactly where it belonged.
"I know… Open your legs a bit wider for me, baby."
You did, though it was a struggle in the tight space in the back of the car. His driver probably couldn't even see anything except their rapid, greedy kissing and maybe your arms slung around his neck. Definitely not his hand disappearing in your pants.
"That's it…" Pedro exhaled, pressing his palm against your clothed pussy, desperately searching for any wetness.
There it was… Through the lace of your underwear – why were you even wearing lace for a casual night out with your friends? – he felt a certain dampness, which made him wish he could just shove your jeans down right here and right now and smell and taste you. Well, perhaps he could do that in a few minutes. There was something immensely ardent about doing it in the back seat of a vehicle, though.
"Do you like that?" he purred, moving his hand in circles to create friction against your clit.
"Y-Yes," you whimpered, thrusting your hips and shifting closer against Pedro's palm as he rolled his hand into your cunt.
"You're so wet… All that for me?"
"Mhm," you cried out, your hands grasping his bicep to pull him closer.
"How naughty… I thought you were just at the bar for a night out with your friends. And here you are, dripping all over my hand."
Slowly, Pedro pushed the fabric of your panties aside and inserted his middle finger inside your clenched hole without any warning. Your body wriggled, the muscles in your legs tensing while Pedro mercilessly entered you to the hilt. You were properly soaked with your natural body fluids, which made him soothe you in satisfaction.
"Taking it so well, sweetheart… So beautiful. And so goddamn wet… You think you can take another finger?"
The fabric bothered him, but as of now, he couldn't just take them off so effortlessly, and ripping them wasn't an option either.
"Yes," you whined, arching your chest toward him when Pedro pressed his thumb into your pulsing clit. Somehow, every part of your body was prickling with heat, whether it was your face, your lips, your pussy, or the side of your neck, which Pedro was still gripping tightly while scissoring you open. Just when he was about to comply and add his ring finger, the car came to a stop, and you squealed, both your heads brutally torn back to the present by the sudden intrusion. Pedro pulled his hand back fast, feeling his heart thunder in his chest.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you, but we're at your apartment," the driver spoke. Pedro was too caught in the moment to figure out whether Mike's voice was laced with amusement like he had expected it, or if he was at least trying to act unsuspecting like he wished.
"Thank you," Pedro answered with his raspy, hoarse voice and opened the door with his left hand. His right… well, he didn't want to ruin the expensive interior of the van.
With a quiet thud, your back met the wall next to the door to his apartment.
He protected the back of your head with his hand to ensure he wasn't hurting you when he pressed you into the wall with his whole weight and passion. Now that they were in a completely private place with no one observing them, Pedro wanted nothing more than to fulfill his wishes and opened your jeans for a second time that night. With skilled fingers, he shoved the fabric down your hips, waiting for it to drop onto the ground and then slowly sank to his knees in front of you.
"Pedro – " you began, nervousness resonating in your low tone, but as his lips kissed your bare knee, the rest of your words caught in your throat.
"It's okay. I'm gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart."
Sure, his aged knees hurt a little on the hard floor, but he simply couldn't wait long enough to guide you to his bedroom or couch. Besides, there was a desk nearby, which he could make you sit on top of in case this position became too impractical.
"I – I just want…" you whimpered and buried your fingers in his locks, your nails grazing his scalp in a way that was most delicious to him.
"Yeah? What do you want?" Pedro's mouth was pressed against your mound, which allowed him to finally take in your scent. And gosh… you smelled amazing. Clean, yet surrounded by a strong musky note.
Blood rushed to his cock, which had been hard the moment he first kissed you in the car. He briefly considered taking himself out and pumping his cock while making out with your sweet pussy, but for now, he didn't have the patience that such actions would demand. He had to dive straight in and lick through your folds that smelled so perfect, so seductive…
"Please. Please touch me, I – I need it so bad." You sounded close to tears, which elicited a hint of pity in him.
He wasn't consciously edging you; he was just savoring the sight in front of him, worshipping every inch of skin that he gradually unwrapped like a present.
"I know, baby. I'm gonna make it better. Gonna kiss the pain away."
His lips enclosed your bundle of nerves, and he hollowed his cheeks to apply pressure on the bud as the lacy fabric stung his skin. Your brow furrowed, which Pedro couldn't see from that angle, but your noises were more than enough to confirm that he was doing more than ordinarily well.
"Ah. Ow, fuck… Yes. Yes, please." Pedro smiled contently, then stuck out his tongue to tease your clit through the thin layer.
"Pedro," you cried out, rolling your hips as though to plead with him to proceed faster.
"Take it off. Please," you additionally begged, but Pedro had too much fun teasing you with your pretty underwear, which he felt you had put on just for him, though this was obviously not the case since neither of you had expected to hook up with a stranger tonight.
"Relax. I got you. Just gonna let your panties stay on your body a little longer… You can't see it, but you look so pretty with them. Just let me play with them a little, okay?"
Your hand lying flat on the wall behind you, Pedro ran a hand up your stomach and slipped it underneath your shirt.
"Y-Yes," you choked, knees turning to jelly as his hand cupped your left breast through your bra and gently cradled your flesh.
"Jesus Christ, sweetheart… What have I done to deserve all that, mhm? You smell so good, you felt so good around my finger, and I know you're gonna taste divine."
It was Pedro's cue to slowly shove the fabric out of his way and press an open-mouthed kiss to your opening. His tongue quickly swirled around your hole, feeling your wetness prickle on his skin, and then a few seconds after that, he entered you with his fat muscle.
All of it had happened too quickly for you to catch up in time, but now, you gasped for air so loudly that Pedro briefly glanced up your body to check if you were okay. Of course, you were. Your cheeks were just a little ruddy, and you looked out of the loop, overwhelmed by how good he was capable of making you feel. His hand clasped around your breast tightened a little, squeezing and kneading your warm flesh. He grinned when he felt you grab his wrist, encouraging him to do more and explore more of your body, but for now, he was utterly smitten with the taste of your pussy, which is why he focused on that part of you.
"You're gonna drive me fucking insane, sweetheart," Pedro grunted, but then was quick to stick his tongue back inside. He couldn't reach as deeply as he could with his fingers, but he could taste you and feel your juices trickle down his chin, a sensation grand enough that he wished he would never have to separate from your core. You also received all the necessary stimulation on your clit through his nose, scrunched up against the upper part of your pussy.
God, if only time would stop right now. If only he could do this every single day, every hour, for the rest of his life. It was all of you that kept him under this spell, not just your pussy. You were so responsive and reacted to him so sweetly that Pedro craved to explore more of you. He wanted to know all your most sensitive spots, tease you until he had discovered every side of you, and find out how much he could coax out of you before the two of you were too exhausted to even connect your lips. He wanted to know you in every way possible and not stop until these feelings were quenched. It was one thing to have you pressed up against the wall, but another to listen to you sharing your most hidden desires with him. That was what he wanted... yes.
"Please, Pedro…" you breathed, knees dangerously close to giving in, which would cause you to collapse on top of him. He could definitely imagine worse things than that. Maybe he should just ask you to sit on his face and hope you forgot all about time and place… Maybe you would roll your hips into him all night and – His eyes pinched shut as he felt you pull harshly at his strands.
Right. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed how he had stopped with the twirls of his tongue. Pedro seized the opportunity to switch things up a little and replaced his tongue with his finger. He was still owing you a second finger, after all.
"Rock against my mouth, y/n. Take what you need," Pedro requested and pressed his flat tongue against your clit. That way, he couldn't exactly trace your most sensitive spot with his pointed tongue as well as he would have liked, but you could create all the necessary friction on your own while he fucked you with his finger. You clenched heavenly around him, and Pedro loved to watch all those little reactions, such as your pussy flattening whenever he circled your nipple or your hips uncontrollably twitching when he curled his finger inside you. You were enjoying yourself, and for some reason, there was nothing that could possibly have brought Pedro more pleasure than that idea.
"Ready for a second finger, little one?" he grinned and finally pushed down your underwear at that very moment. He couldn't help it. He needed to feel all of you, feel the pulse in your clit in his entire body until the thrumming of his heart was in perfect sync with you.
"Yes. Yes, please," you pleaded, more than thrilled by the course of action.
"Take a deep breath for me."
You must have rewired something in his brain; there was no other explanation. He pressed his thick ring finger inside you, humming gently as he realized that he hadn't taken off the piece of jewelry yet. You must have felt it too, given the way you were bending your neck to make out his face between your legs.
"You're not married, are you?"
Pedro chuckled softly and reassuringly brushed over your naked thigh. "No, I'm not… I can still take it off though. If it's too cold."
"No," you quickly murmured, relaxing your shoulders and letting your head fall back against the wall. "I wanna cum, Pedro."
He laughed tenderly, sucking your little nub in his mouth and curling his fingers inside you in the meantime.
"You wanna cum or you're gonna cum?"
"I don't know," you whimpered, sounding as though you were deeply frustrated about something you couldn't quite pinpoint.
"It's okay… Take your time. Do you want me to go faster?"
"I don't know," you whined again, knees shaking and your body squirming unrestrainedly.
"Shh… it's okay. It's okay, baby. Just relax and let me take care of you. You don't have to do anything. I know what you need."
With that, Pedro stood up in front of you, not because he wanted to leave that spot between your legs, but because he figured it was time for a little change in your position. You seemed more than ready and in need of him to finish what he had started, but for one, he didn't trust that you could stand on your own, and also, he wanted you calm. And he wasn't sure whether he would achieve that with you standing and your hands desperately dragging at his hair like you were seeking something. Laying you down and having your body sprawled out in front of him would make things easier for both of you.
You didn't seem to perceive Pedro rising to his feet until he placed one hand on the back of your neck and draped the other around your waist.
"Let me get you to bed, okay, sweetheart?"
You nodded before your eyes became round. "But you – you're gonna touch me again, right?"
"Of course, darling," Pedro laughed, then effortlessly hauled you up in his arms, cradling your head against his chest. "I'm gonna do a lot more than that… if you want me to."
"Yes. I want everything."
Pedro suppressed another amused giggle, since your words had sounded more serious than one would suspect from the phrasing alone. Your face buried in his neck, he carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, where he cautiously laid you down on the bed.
"Pedro?" you asked, or rather whispered, scrutinizing the room with blown pupils.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are you rich?"
"Am I rich?" Pedro repeated, his chest vibrating with laughter. "I work in film."
"Well, what exactly do you do… in film?"
While taking off his shirt, Pedro thought about a reply that did reality justice without ruining the intimate moment between the two of you. There was no way around it now. You didn't deserve to be lied to, and he couldn't give you some trite explanation again.
"I'm an actor," he therefore whispered, threw his shirt in a corner of the room, and approached the bed.
"An actor? What movies have you made?"
"That doesn't really matter now…" Pedro mumbled, parting your knees with his hand and letting some of his weight press you deeper into the mattress.
"Do I know them?"
As a response, he yanked your shirt up, bundled the fabric right underneath your shoulders, and moved the cups of your bra aside.
"You haven't answered me," you giggled, which earned you a disapproving huff.
"I know. 'Cause I got more important things to attend to… more important than my stupid movies…"
"I'm sure they're not stupid," you babbled, body straining as you suddenly felt his hand cup your sex once more.
"Pedro," you hissed, writhing with your hips, but he remained unwavering and just twisted his wrist the slightest.
"I want you to cum for me. And you know what I would like to do then?"
You shook your head, even though there was a feverish glow upon your skin, making your eyes look glassy, almost like a doll.
"I would like to fuck you. Would you like me to do that too?"
His fingers were back inside you, reaching so deep that you threw your head to the side, searching for something only Pedro could give you.
"Y-Yes," you cried, rolling your hips forward, but this time he wanted to remain in charge of your actions, which was why he moved his thumb on his own and teased your clit the way he saw fit.
"I'm gonna make you all wet and pretty for me and then fuck you deep…"
"Yes," you yelped again, closing your eyes and biting down so hard on your bottom lip that it turned scarlet red.
"I wanna make you feel it all the way up in your belly… I want that pretty little head of yours only to think about my cock all the way inside you."
He twisted his finger as though to give you a little taste of what it would feel like to have his length inside you, but you were certain it would be an even more exceptional experience to be stuffed full by his manhood.
His dirty talk continued, and so did the swipes and pumps of his skilled fingers between your legs. Your head was swimming, your vision blurred, which made it impossible to determine exactly where he was touching you or how he was moving the pads of his fingers, but what you knew was that it was good. That it was stealing your breath away and guiding you right to the verge of an orgasm.
"I'm gonna cum," you informed him. Meanwhile, Pedro crawled down your body swiftly and replaced his thumb on your clit with his lips, sucking and kissing the nub until, with one final, sharp thrust into your core, you were pushed over the edge and came with a soft yell.
"Oww…" you mewled, trapping Pedro's head with your legs, which you clamped tightly.
"Good girl… That's it, just let it go… Don't forget to breathe… That's right, breathe for me…"
Your body moved as though you were floating above the rippling surface of the ocean, the tides softly cradling you while Pedro tenderly touched you through your high.
"Pedro…" you whispered, grabbing the silk sheets beneath you with both hands.
"Just feel it… It's good, isn't it?"
You reached for his head to pull at his strands and transmit the inexplicable feelings inside your body, but Pedro just snatched your wrists and planted them on top of your stomach.
"Shh… Just breathe…"
"Pedro," you uttered, wriggling your hands beneath his grasp, making him raise his eyebrows.
"What is it?"
"I want you. Please. Please, fuck me."
His features shifted, and with a chuckle, he slowly climbed on top of you again.
"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, mhm? Feeling a little greedy?" Twisting a strand around his index finger, Pedro kissed you right next to your ear.
"Please," you repeated, wrapping your legs around his hips.
"Y/n?"
"Yes."
Your face gleamed with anticipation, which was so endearing that his heart stumbled in his chest. Yet there was something he had to inquire about before he could listen to his throbbing cock with his whole heart and claim what he wanted so badly.
"How old are you?"
Your chin jutted forward, a faint crease forming on your forehead. "Twenty-nine, why?"
"Jesus…" He had almost expected, rather feared, a number obscenely young, but twenty-nine was far worse than what he had hoped when he had seen you for the first time.
"You're young," Pedro sighed, cupping your face, his aged hand stroking your soft skin.
"And?"
"Too young."
Urgency flared in your eyes, your heels digging into his lower back. "No. I want it, Pedro, please. It can't be that bad, I – "
"I'm 21 years older than you."
Pedro wasn't seriously considering backing away now, if he was being honest with himself. He might be irresponsible and horrible for it, but his own selfish desires to be buried inside you overshadowed his nagging conscience. Hell, perhaps he hadn't demanded to know your age earlier for that very reason. Maybe he simply hadn't wanted to know the ugly truth. And even now, he couldn't walk away and leave someone as pretty and appealing as you in his bed. Yet it would feel good to hear you beg just a little longer, so that this critical voice inside his head was at least a little less noisy, believing that he wasn't corrupting you but rather doing you a favor by giving in to your wants and needs. After doing the math, you stubbornly tautened your face muscles and arched off the bed, putting your chest on perfect display. Jesus… As if he could have ever walked away.
"I don't care. I still want it. Please. I'm twenty-nine, I can make those choices. And I want you to fuck me. Please, Pedro. Please."
You were begging so lovely that Pedro was this close to denying you your wishes one last time. His dick was painfully hard against the restraints of his pants, though, and the idea of finally taking himself out, and not only that but also feeding you his cock, was simply too bewitching. So, Pedro adjusted you on your back, parting your legs a little wider and placing your hands on the bed on either side of your head.
"Alright. I'm gonna fuck you. Probably gonna go to hell for it, but whatever…"
You giggled softly at that, which Pedro rewarded with a teasing bite on your chin. Then he reached for the bedside table, opened the top drawer, and grabbed one of the plastic packages he stored there along with his reading glasses and some tissues.
"I'm on the pill," it suddenly burst out of you, making Pedro's hand slow down in the air. "I promise. We can go raw."
His forehead wrinkled, and he put the condom down on the mattress right next to you.
"Sweetheart, I –… No. No, we're not gonna go raw."
"Why?" you asked, sounding almost offended. "You don't trust me?"
"I trust you. I just – it would be wrong."
"Why?" you hissed, lips compressed, which caused Pedro to gently trace along your cheekbone. He felt somewhere between amused and annoyed by your mulishness and eagerness to feel him without any separation, but most importantly, he had to calm you and convince you that it would be foolish to go without protection.
"I don't wanna risk anything. You're so young – "
"So that's what this is about?" you whispered.
"No. I don't know. I just wanna make sure nothing bad is gonna happen. You're on the pill, that's great, but we're not gonna go raw. We're only doing this 100 percent safely."
"But – "
"I said no," Pedro said, his voice a little louder, laced with authority now. "I only want what's best for you."
You growled something incomprehensible but didn't speak up again while Pedro's eyes wandered to the condom.
"We don't have to do anything at all if that's what you want. Your choice."
"No!" you quickly protested, hands flying to his broad shoulders. "No, I want it. I want it either way."
"Okay," Pedro murmured and finally picked up the package again.
He undid his trousers, shoved them down his legs along with his boxers, and inaudibly chuckled at the way you licked over your lips. Then he opened the condom with deft fingers, throwing the plastic on the nightstand before sliding the rubber over his manhood. You barely saw anything of him except for the rough outline, but as Pedro settled between your legs, his length slapped against your tummy, giving you an idea of his thickness.
"Pedro…" you muttered under your breath, your index finger tracing the veins on his forearm.
"It's okay… We're gonna make it fit, I promise."
He wasn't seriously concerned about working himself inside you. You were more than well prepared for him, had been drenching his hand with your juices, and he was positive that a little bit of sweet whispering in your ear would put you at ease quickly. Still, he needed you to trust him with your whole heart while you showed yourself from your most vulnerable side, opening up to him and allowing him to see and feel every last inch of you.
"Can I – can I touch it?"
The corners of Pedro's mouth lifted. He carefully took your hand and brought it to his thick cock, helping you form a fist and glide it up and down his shaft.
"It's so big," you panted, looking down between your bodies, but you couldn't see much in the darkness.
"Don't worry your pretty head about it. It's gonna fit. I'm gonna go slowly and make sure it won't hurt."
You nodded slowly, still unable to take your eyes off his center until Pedro raised your chin with his finger.
"Are you ready, babygirl?"
"Yes," you replied, determinedly staring back at him while Pedro replaced your hand around his cock with his and trailed the tip along your folds, giving your clit some extra attention, which made you jolt.
"Sensitive, aren't you?" Pedro chuckled and notched his tip against your entrance. Shit, he really was big, and right now, you were all cramped and tense, your pussy barely letting in his tip.
"Relax for me, sweetheart," he demanded, carefully circling your clit to make your muscles loosen.
"I don't want it to hurt," you whispered, squeezing his arm while Pedro soothingly kissed your hairline.
"Shh… I know. I know, baby. You tell me to stop and I stop. I mean it. If it hurts, if it feels uncomfortable, or if you change your mind, you tell me so. But I can't say that it's not gonna hurt a little bit. Do you still want me to go on?"
"Y-Yes," you claimed with no reluctance, brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. After spending another minute rubbing your clit, Pedro whispered some sweet nonsense in your ear while thrusting his hips forward. This time, it worked a lot better, and within a few seconds, he was halfway inside you. You drew a sharp breath through your teeth, clutching his bicep firmly, but you didn't stop him.
"Is that okay?" Pedro asked, just to make sure.
"Yes. Just – hurts a little. But it's okay."
"When did you last sleep with someone?" he wanted to know, not just because he was genuinely interested, but also because it was a good distraction from the faint sting in your core while he fed you more of his cock.
"Like… half a year ago, maybe?" you breathed, sweat gathering on your focused brow.
"That's okay… you just need a little more time to warm up."
Not long after, Pedro was finally sheathed fully inside you, the hair curling at his base touching your pussy. His head was spinning, little flashes sparkling in his view at how tight and warm you felt. He could have come on the spot, he was certain, though he couldn't fully let the pleasure consume him, as he first needed to check on you.
"Talk to me, sweetheart… Are you okay? Look at me."
Your eyes set on him, though there was a dense haze over your vision, like you weren't fully there.
"Yes, Pedro…" you muttered nonetheless, clenching around him so hard that Pedro pinched his eyes shut.
"Please move," you then added, shuddering as a reaction to his brushes over your bundle of nerves.
"Are you sure? How do you feel, mhm? Does it still hurt?"
"Not much. I just… I wanna feel it."
Although he was still hesitant to completely let go, Pedro pulled away a little and then thrust his cock back inside, attentively watching you for your reactions. You moaned lowly, lids shutting, but he couldn't track any pain or discomfort in your features, which was why he settled into a slow but steady rhythm of sliding in and out of you.
"You're so – big, Pedro," you hummed after a while, your brow glistening with a thick layer of sweat, but your eyes a bit clearer now.
"Can you feel it right here? Am I all the way up here, baby?" Pedro connected his flat palm with your lower belly, applying some force to find out whether he was actually kissing and stimulating your insides like he had intended.
"Y-Yes… I think so," you howled, hauling up your hips, broken gasps leaving your throat. It provoked Pedro to reach for one of the pillows next to your head and slip it underneath your pelvis, which would change the angle and perhaps make it even more pleasurable for you.
"Is that good like that?" he questioned, but merely got a euphoric whine as an answer.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I'm not gonna last long…" Pedro mumbled after a while, pacing the movements of his finger around your clit. "You feel so fucking good, I can't – can't help it, baby, I'm sorry."
Pedro's eyes were squeezed shut, excitement tangible in every line and crease across his face. His muscles were coiled and constricted, ready to loosen and limber up, his nerves already prickling like they knew exactly what was coming. You didn't reply, too focused on rolling your hips in accordance with his thrusts, which caused Pedro to address you again.
"You're gonna cum again, baby, I promise. I'm gonna make you cum again, but I – shit, I gotta – "
You took him in so wonderfully, it robbed him of the words bubbling in the back of his throat as well as his ability to speak in general. His hips snapped forward faster now, crashing into yours with a quiet smacking sound, which made your eyes roll back in your head.
"I'm close," you cried out, grabbing the wrist of his right hand, which was drawing messy patterns over your bundle of nerves.
Pedro's body was rippling with joy, the anticipation of reaching his apex at the same time as you sounding intoxicating in his head. Right now, he even regretted using that damn condom since he couldn't get over the idea of filling you up to the brim, but his conscience surely wouldn't have allowed it, and besides, he would have felt guilty afterward.
Pedro lowered his head, kissing up your neck and inhaling your scent while his thrusts became even faster, though also a lot more unrhythmical and irregular. But his finger remained focused, rubbing your clit in tight, firm circles. He interpreted each shallow gasp of yours as a sign that he was on the right track, and when your head fell back into the cushions at last, Pedro let go as well.
"Fuck…" he groaned, feeling his cock spill cum into the condom while you spasmed and throbbed around him. Your perfect, warm walls that had already hugged him so beautifully for the past minutes felt even more exhilarating around him, and Pedro just wished he could make this moment last forever.
"Ohh. Yes, fuck – " you whimpered, lashes fluttering and your mouth agape.
When he felt that his balls were empty, he glared at your face, his own lips curling as he took in your patchy, flushed cheeks that looked blazing hot.
"Do you even know how perfect you feel, babygirl? I don't wanna pull out, shit."
"Then don't. Pull out," you laughed softly, grabbing the side of his face as Pedro kissed you slowly.
"Jesus Christ… The prettiest, most gorgeous…"
He didn't specify what exactly he was referring to, but it didn't matter. Whatever words followed in your mind, they certainly wouldn't be wrong as he relished just about any part of your body. His dick twitched again, causing your sensitive walls to quiver around him and your throat to produce a quiet wheeze.
Although he much regretted doing so, Pedro cautiously withdrew, pulled back, peeled off the used condom, and threw it into the trash can beside his bed. Something within him stirred in the best way possible at the view before him as he shifted his gaze back to you, your sprawled-out hair, the look of sheer adoration and satisfaction on your face, and your intertwined fingers resting on your stomach. Pedro wanted to scoop you up in his arms more than anything, hold you, and shower you with kisses. He wasn't supposed to feel that way about a woman twenty years younger than him, especially one he had just met for the very first time. But one couldn't shut up their feelings, right? And adoration was probably the word that best summed up the turmoil raging inside his chest right now.
"How about I get a washcloth now and get you cleaned up?"
Pedro laid down next to you, absent-mindedly caressing your skin while you cleared your throat.
"Okay, Pedro…"
He was gone just for a minute, wetting a towel with warm water, and then returned to the bedroom. You had turned onto your side, but at his sight, you rolled onto your back again, expectantly spreading your thighs for him.
"I'm gonna be careful… Gonna be kind to your sweet, sore pussy."
He was right, you instinctively flinched at the first contact with the rough material, but Pedro ended your protest with an arm snaked around your waist, effectively holding you down while he wiped your cunt clean with the most sensitive care in the world. He only briefly cleaned the skin around your clit and avoided directly touching your nub.
When he was done, the towel wasn't so warm anymore, and Pedro softly squeezed your hip as he crawled back to the end of the bed.
"I'm gonna be right back. Don't move an inch." Though he doubted that you even could if you had wanted to, Pedro waited for your slight nod, then rushed to the bathroom to put the washcloth in the basket for his dirty laundry.
Walking back into the bedroom, he whistled a familiar tune that had been stuck in his head since his visit to the bar, but he stopped at once when he heard a sniffle coming from the bed.
"Y/n?"
He hurried to the edge of the bed and sat down, his eyes flying open at the sight of your tears. Shit, what had happened? Were you in pain? Had he hurt you? Had he crossed a line he wasn’t aware of? Had he been careless with you?
"Hey, what's wrong? Y/n, look at me, c'mon… What's going on?" Pedro suppressed the urge to grab your face, not wanting to make anything worse, so he just took your hand instead and squeezed it reassuringly.
"Please talk to me, sweetheart. Is there anything I did wrong? Are you in pain?"
You rapidly shook your head, which made Pedro's heart feel a little lighter. Still, you wouldn't stop crying, even hiccupping occasionally while trying to blink away the tears flooding your eyes.
"N-No… I – I just…" Your voice broke midsentence, your lower lip quivering as Pedro tried to make sense of the scene unfolding in front of him. Something had upset you, but what could it possibly be? Had he said something?
"What is it, baby?" Pedro repeated, lifting your frail hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.
"You – Are you doing this all the time?"
He needed a moment to understand what you were referring to, let alone what you were implying. Once he did, the area around his eyes softened, and he slowly lowered your hand.
"You mean going home with women?" he asked, just to be certain.
You nodded and weakly wiped the wetness from your cheeks.
"Oh, sweetheart…" Pedro whispered and couldn’t help himself but lean in and kiss your hairline.
"You – You're an actor. You're in films, and you – you have this apartment, so you – you bring lots of women here, right? And you're – you're gonna throw me out and – and find the next woman to take home tomorrow."
Pedro's heart melted a little at your rapid rambling, and he wished for nothing more than to silence you with a kiss to stop your nonsense. You couldn't have been further from the truth.
"Baby…" Pedro cut you off and cupped your cheek in his large palm. "No. Stop saying such things."
"But it's true, isn't it? I didn't – I didn't… think."
"I'm not gonna throw you out. And I don't want you to go," Pedro uttered while climbing onto the bed beside you, hauling up the blanket so that the two of you could slip underneath. "I thought I made that clear."
You still observed him with wide, glossy eyes, although the tears had stopped streaming down your face.
"No, I'm not bringing women here every weekend. I've had one-night stands before, but that was a long time ago, and it's definitely not what I've had in mind for you."
He gently poked you in the side, then pulled you against his chest, cradling your head while feeling your hair give way to his fingers.
"Really?" you mumbled. "What did you have in mind for me?"
"Oh, little one…" Pedro sighed, almost feeling apologetic about how wrong you had been about all of this. How badly you had misjudged his intentions with you. You poor thing had probably raked your brain, contemplating at what point during the night he was going to kick you out and whether he would at least call you an Uber.
No, you were going to stay here. Until the morning, and then hopefully a bit longer. And then he would ask for your number and call you a little later. Screw the three-day rule. Maybe the two of you could grab a coffee in the afternoon and walk around Central Park, given that it would be a warm spring day tomorrow.
"I have a lot of things in mind for you," he whispered and dragged your hand to his lips once more. "And they definitely don't involve kicking you out, baby."
"Really?" you muttered, your eyes sparkling in the dark and somehow lighting up the whole room.
"Yes. If it were up to me, I would wait a really long time for the getting-out-of-here part…"
You giggled quietly, wiping your cheeks with the remnants of your tears, which fortunately weren't followed by new ones.
And Pedro smiled. The turmoil in his stomach eased.
You hadn't contradicted him, which meant that you didn't desire to flee from him either.
Sure, he would have to talk to you about the whole being-a-famous-actor thing. But everything in its own time…
Five months later
Pedro had felt your uneasiness all day.
It had started at breakfast, when you hadn't stopped playing with the handle of your cup even long after it had been empty. You were a nervous thing at times, but never like this, especially when there was no reason.
Your restlessness had spread through the whole day, Pedro patiently waiting for you to give him a hint or even explicitly address the elephant in the room, but you hadn't made a single allusion.
To be honest, he wouldn't have expected you to speak up on your own, since it was mostly Pedro in your relationship who took care of problems or initiated clarifying talks, but he had hoped for at least something to work with.
When Pedro and you sat on the couch in the evening, you nervously sipping on a cup of tea while he went through some lines, he just had to open his mouth. Otherwise, his brain might explode and those weren't good conditions to get those damn scripts into his head. Besides, he seriously worried that something was nagging at you, or that he had done something to hurt you, which he obviously wanted to avoid at all costs.
"Sweetheart," Pedro whispered, his voice low as he wanted you to be as calm as possible in your stressed state of mind.
"Yes?" you murmured equally quietly, raising your lips from the edge of the mug.
"What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
Pedro sighed and put down the paper sheets, feeling positive that this might take a bit longer. "You're nervous today. You can't sit still."
"I – " you began, but he shut you up by raising his hand.
"No. Don't lie to me. And don't try to fool me. I know you, and I know there's something on your mind. And I want you to tell me."
You tilted your head in torment, your bottom lip shivering dangerously.
"N-No… you… you don't," you whimpered, which made Pedro's whole demeanor shift.
Swiftly, he reached for the side of your head and rubbed your temple with his thumb.
"Hey… it's okay, it's alright, sweetie. Of course, I want you to tell me. I got you, you know that."
"But you – " you stammered, gaze dropped to your feet. "If you – if you knew, you wouldn't want to know."
"What do you mean?" His brow creased in confusion, but instead of giving him a reply, you just shook your head repeatedly.
"Talk to me, y/n. Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything."
Determinedly, you wiped over your eyes and swallowed the lump in your throat.
"I… I meant to tell you for a while. I promise. I'm so – I know I should've told you sooner. Or just – I shouldn't have done it at all."
Now, he really was curious, since he couldn't imagine what you, his perfect, innocent, sweet girl, could have possibly done wrong. He was sure that nothing you might tell him now could upset him, not when you were looking up at him with those puppy eyes anyway.
"Okay. Go on."
"I'm sorry. For doing it and for – for waiting so long to tell you."
Pedro nodded, exhaling deeply. "It's okay. Just tell me what it is."
"I… The night that we met."
You stopped, waiting for him to react. As if he would ever forget that night. It had been one of the best evenings in his life, the very reason he was sitting here with you so happily.
"Yes. What about it?"
"I didn't tell you the truth exactly. I lied to you."
Although Pedro was happy about you finally articulating yourself and giving him the much-needed information, he stumbled over the word lied. He hated when you lied to him, and he just couldn't imagine what the hell you were speaking of.
"Lied about what?"
You nervously sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes still fixed in front of you rather than on his face.
"I'm sorry. I… I know it's bad. I acted like I didn't know you. But I did."
The two of you were surrounded by a heavy silence while the words sank in. His mind automatically replayed the whole interaction: your conversation by the counter, the drive to his apartment, the intimate moments you had shared beneath the covers… Now, he was watching everything from a different angle. Of course, Pedro couldn't remember every word the two of you had exchanged, but some phrases had stood out to him as they had been the seeds of where you were now in your relationship. Knowing that you had in fact been fully aware of who you were talking to changed some of those memories. Just a little.
"Okay…" Pedro uttered, squeezing your hand tightly. "You knew who I was. From the beginning?"
You nodded, still avoiding his gaze, which felt like a punch in his stomach.
"Tell me what happened. When did you decide to lie?"
After clearing your throat and blinking a few tears away, you began speaking slowly at first.
"When… When I picked up your wallet, I didn't know who you were. I swear. But then you – you turned around and I recognized you. I was about to say something, but then – I don't know, I – you looked so calm and – and happy. And natural. And kind. And I thought that if I said something about knowing you, you might switch into that professional mode, and I just didn't want that. I wanted you to be you."
"Baby…" Pedro sighed, but before he could express his disbelief, you continued, the words tumbling out like they had been stuck in your throat for a long time.
"I'm so sorry. I know that it was bad, but you know, I didn't expect – that any of this would happen. I thought we would just talk and then – then you bought me that drink and suddenly we were in your car. I knew I should've told you, but… but the right moment just didn't come. It happened so fast, and when we laid in bed that night, I knew that I made a mistake, but I was too scared to tell you. I thought you would hate me if I said it."
At last, your eyes found his, and the pain glimmering in your dark pupils was almost too much for Pedro to bear. How was he supposed to be angry with you? It was more than obvious how badly you had been feeling and still felt, and that you regretted lying with your whole heart.
"You've been carrying all that with you? You thought I wouldn't wanna be with you if you told me?"
"Yes," you murmured, nodding slightly.
"And why did you decide to tell me now?"
You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for more confessions.
"I don't know. I've wanted to tell you for so long. After things got serious, I promised myself I would talk to you when we went to that Italian place for my birthday. But… But everything was so beautiful and I had the best birthday of my life, so I didn't want to ruin it. It just – It became too much, and I just – I thought about it every day, and I knew I finally had to say it. Before this stupid secret would kill me…"
For a moment, neither of you said anything, though Pedro was still holding your hand, his gaze lingering on your lips.
"Do you hate me now?" you asked shyly, as though you feared his answer.
"You really think I could ever hate you?"
Shrugging your shoulders, you longingly gripped his fingers, too afraid for him to let go.
"I love you. And that's not gonna change."
"But I – I lied to you. Our relationship is based on a lie," you whimpered, close to tears again. Therefore, he pulled you in for a hug, sliding his hands down your spine as he pressed your face against his collarbone.
"No, it's not… Maybe I was a bit more fond of you in the beginning just because you made me feel so normal and I could just be myself with you. You had no expectations. But then, I fell for you because of who you are. I didn't fall in love with you because I thought you didn't know who I was. I specifically fell in love with you because of how you saw me. How you treated me, how you gave your heart into our relationship, how you let me see you."
You sniffled softly, and Pedro combed his fingers through your hair.
"Baby, I've spent the past five months with you, and they were the best five months of my life. You think I care about something that you didn't tell me during the first twenty-four hours since we met? You think the happiness of my past five months just doesn't count because of one lie? You think it's just gonna make me forget those weeks with you?"
"I'm sorry," you repeated, pressing a kiss through his shirt against his chest.
"I know. I believe you. But I love you no matter what. I fell in love with you, baby, for who you are. Maybe – yes, maybe it made the start easier because I was just extraordinarily interested in you since you treated me so normal, so… maybe I should even feel grateful. That you acted that way and made me want to get to know you. 'Cause look where it got us."
You laughed quietly, tilting your head up at him while Pedro draped both arms around you, holding you firmly against his chest.
"I'm still sorry. And I swear, I'm not gonna lie to you again. Never."
"I know. But I want you to stop feeling bad about it. I forgive you. Besides, I told you all about my job within the first day of knowing you. So don't say our relationship is built on a lie, sweetheart. Don't be silly."
He tapped his fingers tenderly on your bicep, inhaling the scent of your hair, while you finally, feeling a heavy weight lift from your heart, relaxed completely in his grasp.
"Thank you, Pedro. I love you so much. And I – I don't wanna lose you."
"You're not gonna lose me. Never. I'm not gonna let that happen."
Although the problem that had been gnawing at you for weeks was finally resolved, you remained flush against Pedro's body for the next hour. Not because you needed more comfort or solace, but simply because it felt too good to let go.
You believed him when he said he forgave you and that this wouldn't end the relationship like you had feared in your worst nightmares. But having his hands glide up and down your back, occasionally sliding your shirt to the side to caress your bare skin while whispering his love in your ear over and over, was so beautiful that you didn’t intend to move a single muscle. At least, not until you absolutely had to.
Joel's no longer just your sleazy older neighbour, watching you every night through his bedroom window as you get ready for bed. He all but has made himself at home in your life. And he intends to make sure he stays right where he is.
Warnings
+18 – mdni; shameless smut, implied voyeurism, masturbation, dry humping, (mentioned) consensual somnophilia, boob-fucking, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, sleazy!Joel, undefined age gap, daddy kink
a/n
PRETTY MUCH what the title suggests! our sleazy-peeping-nighbourhood Joel graduated to breeding Joel. I really have no excuses for this other than that I really wanted to write it?? Also as a ty for all your likes, reblogs & comments on Peeping Joel!! 🖤 y'alls input is what keeps me motivated to write!! not beta-read, happy reading <3
word count – ~2.1k
as seen on – archiveofourown
He was rock hard. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do to help it—- was just you, and your nightly routine. In a way he’d pavloved himself. He knows that. Your shorts had barely hit the ground in front of the bed and his cock had stirred to life.
Didn’t help that he was laying in your bed now. That he could hear you move about in the ensuite, water running, the sound of products moving across the counter and being opened, used.
How couldn’t he sit there, in your sheets. Working himself while he waited for you.
“You sleazy pig,” you didn’t even seem shocked, walking back into your bedroom, seeing him in all of his naked glory, dad-bod — although his belly was the result of beer and not the healthiest diet; fist around his cock, stroking himself. “Can’t believe you,” you shook your head, even as you pulled your top over your head.
Joel groaned, watching your breasts spill free, “She says, showin’ me her glorious fucking tits.”
You only rolled your eyes, snatching the lotion he’d used as lube, to lather it into your skin. First your arms and chest and maybe you made a show out of it. Making sure he got a good fucking view of your breasts as you worked the lotion into your skin. Nipples pebbling and all. Just like you had when you knew he sat in front of his window every night.
“Fucking tease,” he groaned, cock twitching.
“Oh so you’re complaining?” You asked, tossing your panties at him.
And Joel didn’t disappoint, nose pressed into them, inhaling deep. “You dirty old fuck,” you rolled your eyes, climbing on top of him.
“Gotta love how ya actin’ like ya ain’t liking it,” he clicked his tongue, a hand on your hips, the other taking a hand full of your glorious fucking tits.No doubt expecting you to sink down on him.
But you had a better idea.
Grinding your slick cunt along his cock, root to tip and back again. Feeling every inch of him glide through slick folds. Teasing your clit just right. “Fuck,” you moaned, head falling back.
“See babygirl, knew ya liked my cock.” Of course he was smug about it. “Just like that,” he encouraged you. “Knew ya liked Daddy’s cock better than ya silly little toys.”
“Asshole!” The insult lacked bite, which may or may not be due to the word being wrapped into a moan.
“You like it,” he countered, clearly enjoying himself. Using the hand on your hip to guide you along his cock.
And fuck he was right.
“No,” he tried to shift, tried to sink into you. “Not tonight,” you breathed.
“C’mon, babygirl…” he complained, fingers flexing against your hip. “We’ll be careful.”
“No Daddy,” you reached for his hands, pinning them on his chest where you braced your weight. “Someone used the last condom this morning and didn’t get any new ones.”
A year in and he had fucked you plenty. On and against every surface of your home and his, including the windows facing your bedrooms.
Your body pressed into the cool glass while he had sunken into you from behind. He had refused to clean the shape of your glorious curves off of the glass.
Not that he slept much in his own bed now.
Too comfortable in yours, with your body in his arms.
After the first time, condoms had become a staple. Sometimes he pulled them off, just to paint white ribbons across your skin.
He knew that you weren’t on birth control, that you weren’t fond the side-effects and had promised to take care of protection. And he had, an always replaced stash of condoms, the ultra-sensitive kind. Because he longed to feel you around him.
He’d meant to get new ones three days ago, but between work running late and you complaining that you needed him he’d simply forgot. Using the last before breakfast and after waking you with his tongue in your cunt.
“Just the tip?” He tried, while you still worked yourself on top of him.
“Yeah right,” you moaned, “You can’t even resist now and want me to believe you will resist sinking balls deep into me?” You clicked your tongue, a wicked little grin tucking on your lips.
Oh how he loved that smart mouth of yours.
Just as much as he loved to stuff it, like when you believed he’d let you sass him over on your way home from the grocery store some five months ago.
He had to pull over, unable to concentrate while your smart tongue had worked him to make up for rolling your eyes and calling him a grumpy old man.
Not that he had expected you to follow through, when he’d unbuckled his belt and opened the fly of his pants enough to pull his cock out. When he should have known better… well aware that his babygirl never backed down from a challenge.
──────────
“‘ll pull out?” He promised, and you scoffed.
“I know school’s been a while for you,” he had half a mind to tuck his hand free to smack your behind for that “But you should know that that ain’t save at all.”
You had a point.
Not that he wanted to admit that.
“What? Ya not keen on givin’ me a little Miller?”
“Joel,” you half whined, half moaned.
“’s not what y’call me babygirl. Not when ya cunt is drippin’ all over m’cock.” You didn’t respond, go figure, but you didn’t stop rolling your hips either. “Y’d look so beautiful with m’child. All round a soft an glowin’,” you threw your head back, weather because of how good he felt under you or because of the picture he pained, Joel wasn’t sure.
But he used your movement to tuck one of his hands free from under yours, not to move it back to your hip to guide you, but to trace along the soft skin below your navel instead.
“Would spoil ya rotten!” He declared.
“Sure y’would,” you moaned. “And I’d be the talk of the street. Pregnant from my sleazy neighbour who’s twice my age…”
“‘m not sleazy.”
“Sure, you didn’t watch me for month jerking off,” you countered.
He flashed you a grin. “’s not my fault, babygirl. Ya put on a spectacular show.” And he knew now that you had, just for him. “‘sides, ain’t matter what they think. We can move.”
Your movements grew erratic, your pace picking up—- he knew you were close. His hand slipped back to your waist, to guide you, but his thumb kept drawing soft circles into the skin of your belly.
“Y-you gonna tell me you want,” you panted, “A white–- picket fence?”
“Nah, not m’style,” he mused, “But if’s what you want then…” he trailed off. “‘ll build ya a whole fuckin’ castle if’s what ya want.”
“That’s—- quite the promise,” you moaned, her fingers flexing against his chest. “Just to cum inside of me.”
“Ain’t just cuming inside of ya, babygirl,” a low rumble, his cock twitching under you. “Would make sure it sticks.” He felt it, the tensing of your abdominal muscles, the coil behind your navel snapping as your orgasm tore through you. Hips bucking and back arching.
A glorious sight.
But so would be you, round with his baby. He hadn’t lied. Hell he’d even do the white picked fence if you wanted that. Complete with a Golden Retriever and and whatever else your heart desired.
Preferably his cock, day and night.
“Pervert,” you panted. Had you read his mind?
“Just sayin’…” he was still rock hard, still craved the welcoming depth of your cunt. Now more than ever. And he wasn’t above begging you to feel it wrapped around his cock. Too so because the thought of you pregnant with his child, the thought of you being his was far too tempting to dismiss it. “‘d take good care of ya.”
“Yeah, yeah, spoiling me rotten, I heard you.”
“Good, was worried ya were t’far gone t’hear.” You flicked his painfully hard nipple, making his cock twitch and him groan. “C’mon, ya can’t tell me y’haven’t thought ‘bout it.”
“What? Having your child or your cock, bare, inside of me.”
“Both.” His thumb still drew idle patterns into your soft skin. “Need one f’the other an one leads t’the other.”
“Oh so you did pay attention in biology?” You arched a brow and he smacked your ass with his unoccupied hand and you didn’t yelp. You fucking giggled.
God you would be the death of him.
──────────
He finished between your glorious tits. And not that he was complaining about that… but he would have loved feeling you wrapped around him still.
Not that the sight of thick white ribbons covering your skin didn’t make up for that. Enough, that he took a moment to admire it, while he caught his breath.
“Gonna buy condoms first thing tomorrow,” he sighed, climbing off you to get a wet cloth and clean your chest. Paying extra attention to your breasts.
“Heard that one before,” you tease while he pulled you into his arms.
His chest to your back.
“Gonna do it,” he breathed into your neck while a large hand settled above your abdomen. “Meant what I said babygirl,” his voice sounded soft with exhaustion and something else. “Gonna build ya a castle…”
The topic didn’t come up again. Joel stocked up on condoms and then proceeded to fuck you seven ways to Sunday.
In the kitchen instead of breakfast, in the shower after an exhausting day, in the back of his truck because you’d snarked him, irritated after work, while muttering something about fucking the bad mood right out of you.
And frequently after watching you go through nightly routine. Rock hard like the first time he saw you across the small strip of grass through the window.
“You’re impossible,” you rolled your eyes, finding him working his cock yet again.
“T’word y’re lookin’ for is irresistible.”
You snorted, shimmying out of your panties. “Sure,” you reached for the lotion, aware he’d used it too, to lather a some into your arms. “Quit jerking off and put your hands to better you,”
“Am puttin’,” you tossed the lotion onto his naked belly, “Hey!” He complained, even as he reached for the lotion to squeeze a generous amount into the palm of his hand.
He worked the lotion into your left leg first, starting at the calf, moving over your thigh and to your ass. Down right massaging it into your skin. Your right leg received the same treatment before he moved on to your hips, waist and belly.
By the time you had settled astride him, fingers loosely pumping along his length, he had moved on to your breast, making quite the show out of lathering cream onto your skin. Massaging until it had fully settled into your skin.
Then, and only then did he shift and reach for the nightstand, to get a condom.
He barely got the drawer open before you sunk down on him.
“Fuck,” he moaned, hands immediately flying to your hips. “Y’sure babygirl?”
You nodded, watching him out of hooded eyes and Joel immediately shifted you under him, a thigh hooked over his hip, his breath hot against your lips.
There was no rush to his movements, slow and deep. Savouring each deep thrust. And fuck you’d forgotten how good he felt like that. “If this sticks,” your teeth caught his bottom lip.
“Gonna make it stick,” he grunted before you could finish your sentence.
“Then you better get started on the promised castle,” you teased, reminding him of his promise from weeks ago. Fingers in his hair, nails against his scalp.
Joel’s hips bucked. “First thing t’morrow babygirl.” He promised and even though you had been fine the first time around, when he’d finally caved and marched over here, you somehow didn’t doubt that he would manage to knock you up just because he decided to.
“Fuck y’feel so good babygirl,” he groaned, while your nails left crimson-shaped imprints on his shoulder. “An ya gonna look so pretty. All round ’n soft with m’baby,” you clenched around him. “Oh so y’really want it,” you had half a mind to wipe the smug grin of his face but then his cock dragged against that spot that made your toes girl. “Look at’cha squeezin’ me.” He moaned. “So tight babygirl—-”
He was hot on your heels when your orgasm rips through you, spilling deep inside of you.
“’s right babygirl, keep squeezin’ Daddy’s cock,” he groaned, still catching his breath when he pulled you into his arms. “Keep milkin’ my cock, makin’ sure it sticks.”
