Okay So I Vaguely Know Who This Is Because Of TikToklmao But God Damn This Is EXACTLY What Nasty Disrespectful

The yearning!!! 😭🥹

Companionship | pt. 9

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

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Summary: You try to move on, until your phone rings.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: Y’ALL ARE SO NICE TO ME!! I may not be able to answer everyone (especially on reblogs), but I appreciate you all so much😭💜

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: age gap, angst, foul language, panic attack, feelings, talk of death (adamson)

not beta read

Every thought screamed for him to turn around and run back into the apartment. It clawed at his insides that he had majorly fucked up. The pieces of the Visa card dug into his palm, sharp and unforgiving. You had cut it up. He had thrown your agreement and your payment in your face and you had already cut the Visa card up.

Michael kept walking, and walking, too embarrassed to turn around. Hot feelings buzzed in his chest, torn between guilt and something that burned unrequited.

Had it really been unreciprocated when you had basically admitted to it? Shame flushed through Michael’s system.

He had wanted to be a good person and not allow someone far too close to half his age to get tangled in his mess. In him. It would not be fair, to you most of all. He had just wanted to walk into your apartment, check to see if you were okay and then end the agreement, even when not having you in his company was the last thing he wanted.

He ended up tearing any hope to shreds. It was not even fair for him to have had any hope, but if you had pushed? I would have given it a chance, the thought stung and bile churned in his stomach. But he had been a fool and fucked it all up anyways.

The thoughts racing through his head felt jumbled and chaotic. Guilt and shame for how it had ended, for how he had hurt you, and something like relief. If you hated him, then there would be nothing to pursue and you would move on. Move on. It felt like acid in his mouth.

This was all for the better, he tried to tell himself. He could hardly imagine anything working between you anyways — between the age gap, the swirling insecurities he had with it, and all the skeletons in his closet. Not to mention his general avoidance of his feelings, or the kind of emotional intimacy long term relationships required. He fucked up anything serious he had ever found himself in. You would have gotten hurt regardless. It was better to rip the bandaid off early and let you go.

A longing sat heavy in his chest, an itch to reach out. A call. Just a call. Just to hear your voice and bathe in the way you had a knack for calming him. Was it weird that he wanted to seek you out even after all he had said? Over some stupid impulsive words strung together by his insecurities over the whole thing. A complete instinctive response to shield his heart from something real. Something that might matter. Something that might hurt.

But he had made it hurt all on his own.

—

Days blurred together, the pain in your hand acting as the only buoy that kept you tethered to your reality. You wanted to sink beneath the waves, let your heartbreak drown you, but the thoughts made you feel even more pathetic.

I didn’t even really know him, your mind sneered. How can you mourn what wasn’t even there?

Perhaps it had been that fact that you had grown to trust him, or the feelings flickering in your heart and in your belly at the very thought of him. Something had clearly been brought to life in your late night conversations, wandering eyes and lingering touches and you hated yourself for it. For the butterflies that still invaded your insides at the thought of his lips against yours, bubbling up your throat until you wanted to scream.

You had to kill the feelings and move on. You only allowed yourself one more day of misery before trying to pick up the pieces.

Every time you caught sight of your hand, edges stitched together, you thought of him. Of how you wished your heart had been more cleanly cut so the jagged edges did not get caught on any wandering thought, forcing you to feel it even more. Forced his stupid handsome face to center stage in your head, the way his eyes softened—

You wondered how the hell you were going to stitch up that wound.

Marsi came by after you had ignored her texts for a few days, showing up with a bottle of wine and junk food.

“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but it might make you feel better?” Marsi asked when you opened the front door.

You frowned, but let your friend in.

“I texted Erin since she might’ve been able to help with this sort of situation, but apparently she’s in Greece right now. With Craig The Hedgefund Guy.”

“Good for her.” You said monotonously.

Marsi raised an eyebrow, “So…did he not want to cancel the agreement in favor of anything else?”

“No, he wanted to cancel the agreement.” You huffed out.

Marsi waited patiently.

“He just didn’t want me.” You shrugged. “Thought I was just interested in his money.”

“Well, he has been—”

“I know, Marsi. I know.” Your throat got tight in embarrassment. “I just want to forget about it.”

“I’m happy to distract you with my poor excuse of a love life and my dumb professor.”

“Please.”

—

It had been a week. More than a week. Your healing cut was beginning to itch. You had scheduled an appointment with Dana back when you had been in the ER, but you did not want to go back. You had called up your PCP to schedule to get them removed instead. You just had two more days and you could put it all behind you.

There had been distractions in the end of year exams that you had been able to lose yourself in. Late nights became even more common, studying and trying to forget. Your heartbreak had yielded to anger, though the lines between them blurred enough that one was the other and you had a hard time figuring out which was which.

You sat on your bed, hoping that you would perhaps get so tired that you would pass out so you would not have to be alone with your thoughts. The anxiety of your exams was just increasing your turmoil even more.

Time is healing my hand, time will heal this too.

Sitting criss-cross on your bed, your laptop in front of you, you tried to focus on the numbers on the spreadsheet. They blurred together due to the late hour.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and your eyes flickered to see who it was. Your heart lurched into your throat at the sight of Michael’s name.

Heart already beginning to pound, a small amount of heat lighting your skin on fire, your hands beginning to grow clammy. You stared at it, before taking a long blink and rubbing your eyes. Surely, your eyes were playing tricks.

Opening them again, his name still sat there and the buzzing continued. It was late, nearly midnight, and a fear took root. Why is he calling?

With slight hesitation, you reached to answer it before it went to voicemail. The silence of your room was suddenly invaded by the sound of Michael crying. Heavy breathing trying to find rhythm, and panic bloomed from your fear.

You swallowed and just listened. Words got stuck in your throat, and the red hot anger that had been biding its time made you flinch to hang up. How dare he call you out of all people when he was in the middle of a panic attack. Did he not remember the scathing words he had said? Completely ending your agreement, your obligation to talk to him?

Had it been obligation? Or had it been care? Your mind whispered somewhere in a dark corner.

“I-I’m sorry—” he whispered, his voice cutting through the hyperventilated breaths like a siren’s call across the sea of your uncertainty.

Your heart thudded, but you let out a long breath, your edges softening.

“Just take a deep breath, Michael.” You said, trying to pull any sort of emotion from your voice. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not o-okay.” He hiccuped on a sob. “Fuck, I don’t even know why—”

You hushed him.

“Shit, fuck, I’m sorry. I had to take a patient off a ventilator—” He sucked in a sharp breath. “He was—he was gone, but fuck—I didn’t—it felt like—” He resorted back to his tears.

The sound of his desperation clawed through the heat of your anger, finding the soft spot beneath and latching on, sinking its teeth deep. Your own tears welled up. All the frustration, the sorrow, the anger, the heartbreak and your own brutal desperation tangling together in your throat, tears burning your eyes. You cried with him.

With your cheeks wet and sobs crashing through your body, you held your phone tightly to your ear, wishing instead it had been Michael you were holding close. Stupid, foolish girl.

“It brought me back to having to let Adamson go…it felt like I was reliving it all over again.” His breathing still came quickly. “I had to give up on him to save a little girl…and she didn’t even make it.”

Your own sadness bled into your empathy, “Michael…I don’t know what you need me to say. I’m sorry.” Your voice was hoarse. “Just breathe with me.”

You tried to take a deep breath through your nose and back out through your mouth, but it got caught somewhere in your chest. You cried harder.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—fuck. Today was rough. It was bad. I—I didn’t know who else to call. I needed to hear your voice.”

A part of your heart warmed and you rubbed your eyes. Your thoughts blurred with a thousand questions and a million protests.

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping. I should—”

“No…stay.”

The line grew quiet, but it didn’t cut off. You had the fleeting thought to hang up and not allow any of it to get any more complicated than it already was, but you could not bring yourself to. You held onto your phone like a life preserver in the storm.

It took several minutes before your breathing began to slow and the tears to dry, and rational thoughts seeped back in. He took a long breath in on the other side.

“I’m really sorry for everything I said.” Michael whispered. “Fuck, that was so wrong of me to do to you.”

“It really hurt.” You told him simply. “I thought—I just—is that really what you think of me?”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, it isn’t. I didn’t know how to deal with my feelings, or how the agreement was making me feel. And I took it out on you. That was incredibly unforgivable of me.”

You swallowed, “It was getting complicated, that wasn’t what you signed up for.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He agreed. “It still doesn’t absolve me for everything I said.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

He sighed, “Thank you for picking up anyway.”

You stayed silent, unsure exactly what you wanted to say.

“But the agreement is over. Nothing more to tie us together.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t want this…distance between us. Even if that means we’re just friends. But I can understand if you want nothing more to do with me.” He said.

You bit your lip, “I can’t just forget what you said, not yet. But I don’t want you to go anywhere, either. I want to figure this out.”

He paused on the other end, “Did you get your stitches out yet?”

“No. I have an appointment with my PCP.”

“Come by the hospital instead? We can start there?”

You thought about it, about seeing him. About the possibility of finding sturdy ground with him again and the possibility of letting something grow without the hindrance of an agreement. Or any external pressure.

“Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“I originally scheduled to come by tomorrow after work.”

“I’ll be here.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Something like hope grew back in your chest.

[ Next ]

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

BOOMSHAKALAKA YES LAWWWWDDDDDDDD

Go give THAT FIC ALL THE LOVE YALL ITS DELICIOUSSSSSSSS

The way this is literally me & @gothcsz’s interpretation of sugar daddy Marcus Acacius like uggggg. Everybody go read our doc child: SAFETY NET for clear skin. 5 likes and we’ll work on chapter two and make it extra nasty for everybody. 😁🤭

cathectic and couchbound

jack abbot x reader

word count ~3k

content warnings/description: explicit sexual content, AFAB reader, power imbalance/dominant jack, spit kink, age gap, sickeningly sweet, single mention of jack wanting to knock reader up

author's note: i feel like this is overdue considering my whole blog is dedicated to this man, lol

jack abbot fucks you on his couch.

─────────────

Jack walks through the door of his apartment and hits the lights. He tosses his pack over the arm of the living room couch before dropping himself onto the cushion. It sinks under his weight, fluff spilling out of the sides. It’s ratty, has a slight sour odor, but he’s kept it all this time—moving it from place to place during his time in the military. 

His police scanner lies on the coffee table, still humming, left on from when he left in a rush for day shift this morning—subbing for Robby during his vacation. Robby let you switch shifts to be with Jack as a thank you. You both prefer nights.

He slowly reaches over to turn it off. Tired doesn’t begin to explain how he feels. He’s exhausted. Worn out. On his last leg. 

Jack made that last joke to Robby too many times to count, trying—and failing—to get a chuckle out of him. Maybe one day.

He considers taking off his prosthetic to get more comfortable and ease some of the ache but decides against it. Leaving it on will motivate him to make the trek to bed later. He’s slept on this couch more times than he’d like to admit, and it’s been with him through it all—but it wasn’t made to last.

It’s convenient, sure, but he prefers to sleep in bed with you. And it’s easier on his back.

Jack unlocks his phone and is faced with the last website he was on while taking his millisecond break earlier tonight. Dana suggested the place, and he could see why. The jewels are bright, sharply cut—dangerous—yet mesmerizing. Hypnotic, even. Jack eyes one in particular, hovering over the purchase button. He imagines the center stone of the engagement ring glinting from the sunrise as you hold onto the railing of his patio while he eats you out from behind. 

He’s pulled from his reverie when his phone pings, signaling a text from you. Your message says that you'll be a little late. 

He feels awful about leaving you in the Pitt, but after a string of deaths—one after another after another—he didn't want to stay even a minute past the end of his shift. He replies to your text with a simple thumbs-up. You understand. You always do.

Not twenty minutes later, he hears the rattling of the doorknob, the jangle of his spare key, and the click of the lock turning. 

Most times, once Jack gets home, he leaves his door unlocked for you, considerate of your occasional forgetfulness. But, now and then, he locks the door on purpose, somehow knowing you’d forget your key that day. He doesn’t know how he knows—he just does. 

He always gives the excuse that he forgot to leave it unlocked—old age, he dryly jokes—but he can’t help secretly looking forward to opening the door for you every time. Seeing your sheepish face waiting patiently on the other side when he greets you. 

Jack lingers at the door, his thick frame blocking the entrance to the apartment. He takes his time staring at you, soaking you in, wondering how he managed to make such a pretty young thing like you his. On a good day, you’ll indulge him in his silent staring contest, admiring his corded arms crossed against his chest, but on most days, you push past him, rushing in to use the restroom.

Tonight, though, he must really be tired, because not only did he—for real this time—forget to leave the door unlocked, but he's also slightly relieved you brought your key. Jack was not moving from the couch anytime soon. He couldn’t help but feel bad for it—the old thing rocking with each sudden movement, thanks to one of the uneven legs.

You drag yourself into the living room and your purse lands at an angle atop Jack’s pack, then slides to the floor, now scrunched from the impact. 

A granola bar, your lip balm, and your R3 badge escape from the unzipped lip of the purse, but you don’t care. You lie across Jack on the other end of the couch, throwing your feet over his lap. He helps you remove your shoes while gently rubbing your feet. 

Silence cozily stretches over the both of you like a heated blanket, despite the appearance of the muted, almost sterile living room. Jack’s entire apartment is nearly stripped to bare bones. 

What little he does own is old, tattered, or otherwise near defunct. His walls are empty, save for a few photos of the two of you together that you forced him to put up. The food in his fridge is nearly gone, with the exception of eggs, sourdough bread, and his chocolate protein shakes—an essential, apparently. The only other things to eat are snacks he keeps stocked in the cabinets for you. And this damn couch. The smell used to make you wrinkle your nose, but you’ve gotten used to it.

It makes sense, considering his military past and the time demands being an attending requires, but you can’t help wanting to liven the place up a little. For the both of you. You always joke that the three most important things to him are you, his couch, and his police scanner—not necessarily in that same order.

You casually wonder if Jack would let you take his card to go shopping for the place, knowing all his money is just collecting dust in the bank. You might as well—you practically live here. You’re not sure when you last saw the inside of your own apartment. He only ever spends money on necessities and spoiling you, anyway. You’ll convince him to take you both when your schedules line up. 

He asked you to move in not too long ago, but your lease isn't up for another few months. He offered to pay the fee to break it, but you humbly declined. You aren’t quite aware how much of a dopamine rush Jack gets when he takes care of things for you. When he takes care of you.

Jack gives you a few minutes to decompress, now rubbing your sore ankles.

Finally, you start, “Today was a shit day.”

Jack grunts in agreement. “No argument there—but you were amazing today. You’re so strong, you know that?” He gives you an intense look.

He’s not joking, not throwing words at the wall to see what sticks. He’s being utterly sincere, and another pinprick of sand falls into the hourglass of love you have for him, joining the millions already there.

You smile warmly at him. “You tell me after every difficult shift. How could I not know? And… you’re amazing too.”

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

A second passes before you respond. “Can you hold me?”

“Sure can, sweetheart.”

Jack pulls you from under your arms like a child, setting you atop his lap. You can’t help how your face heats up at the way he so easily throws you around, bending you to his will. The act makes you dizzy—his casual display of strength and the way he takes care of your needs makes you putty in his strong hands. 

He rubs mindless shapes into your back, applying slight pressure, and you're comforted by his touch.

Jack moves his hands to your shoulders and continues to rub with even more pressure. 

“Let me know if it hurts at all, baby.” 

The massage starts to feel good. Almost too good. Who taught him to give massages like this? 

You rack your brain, recalling if Myrna’s asked for one lately. Or worse yet, imagine her using her one uncuffed hand to grope Jack under the guise of a “massage.” 

You shiver at the uncomfortable thought, then at the pleasure running through you from Jack’s working of your shoulders. You let a low moan escape from deep within your chest. Under normal circumstances, you’d be a bit embarrassed by the sultry sound, but both you and Jack are too tired and too caught up in the haze of each other’s presence to care.

At the sound of your pleased groan, Jack feels a new life springing within him, taking root and reaching his extremities, tension churning just under his skin with its movement. 

Taking care of you like this—touching you, being in your presence—is more than he could have ever hoped to imagine for himself. Jack knows more than most to take wins as they come. Sink them in and hold on to them, because you never know what tomorrow might bring. 

Despite the losses in the Pitt tonight, he still has you. As long as you’re with him at the end of every day, falling apart under his touch, going shy at his quiet confessions and severe (but loving) stares, he can make it another day in the Pitt. 

Jack’s touch becomes more persistent, roaming south again—and even further south—to grope the round of your ass. 

“Jack,” you rasp, tugging at his soft curls. You begin to grind down on him, both of your scrubs thin enough to feel the heat emanating from each other’s bodies. 

Jack grunts, but ultimately ignores your whining. He’s taking his time with you. Whether you’re patient enough for him or not. He’s not against taking you over his knee if you flail too much for his liking. You’re so, so good to him though, letting him set the pace, and you settle against him again. He kisses down the column of your neck, grazing his teeth at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. 

Muffled against his shoulder, you manage, “Jack, p-please? I want to be closer to you. Let me?” Jack gives your neck one last deep, almost shaky, inhale, then a tender kiss on your cheek, and nods. 

You’re just too damn sweet—and Jack wants to eat you alive. And what’s worse? You’d let him. 

The naked trust you have in him makes him reconsider every mistake, every bad decision, every failure in his life. He can’t be so bad if someone like you trusts him, right? Pre-therapy Jack? Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even be in those pictures on the wall. There’d be no pictures on the wall. 

He wouldn't allow that. He wouldn’t allow himself to hurt anyone but himself—no one but Jack. He’s let too many people down already. People he couldn’t save during his time in the service years ago. People he can’t save now—patients like those lost tonight in the hell that is the Pitt. 

Jack still feels the occasional pang of guilt, but now it washes over him, like a spring rain washing away the lingering, tacky pollen, and he feels all the lighter for it. He still lets himself feel sorrow, and pain for the people whose lives couldn’t be saved—who he couldn’t save. But now he doesn’t find it in himself to self-blame. And with you in his corner, his other half, he’s too fixated on your needs to wallow in sorrow.

Post-therapy Jack? The Jack that forgives himself for his mistakes and lets people in? He couldn’t imagine pushing you away. 

You're it—and there’s no escaping him. He’s tagged and bagged you, and you’re his. 

Jack has always told Robby that he lives in the darkness. It used to rear its ugly head in the form of bar fights, drunken nights, and emotionless one-night stands. It's controlled now, taking a backseat only for those really ugly, bad days, but sometimes it comes out of hiding in the form of a disgusting possession that curls around you both. 

Jack allows himself this one vice. He doesn’t care about having physical things in his apartment. About the money he makes, about the notoriety that comes from being Jack Abbot. Just having you is enough. 

And you never shy away from it—from him. From his past, from his darkness, from his deep, intense love for you. 

Jack, for a brief second, thinks about impregnating you. Tonight. Right here. Right now. As long as it takes. Until you take. But he drags in a deep inhale. Stop, he thinks to himself. Everything in due time.

He pushes the thought away as you step back to take off your scrubs and step out of your underwear.

It’s not lost on you that you're now nude while he’s fully clothed—the slight humiliation and power imbalance scratching an itch you’re too delirious with need to unpack at the moment. Jack lifts from the couch to pull down his bottoms and boxers just enough to free his hard cock and balls, flushed and leaking for you.

Jack pulls you to him, gripping your hips so you’re sitting just above his cock, letting you sink down on him at your own pace. While you moan, getting adjusted to his size, Jack has his own agenda, and he starts tweaking your nipples, pebbled and peaked under his rough touch. 

He takes your left nipple into his mouth, groaning against the soft flesh of your breast, while his palm squeezes the other. Meanwhile, you’re whining on his cock, frustrated by Jack’s lack of movement.

He can’t help but get riled up when teasing you, knowing how much you want him.

When Jack’s had enough of torturing your tits, he kisses you—rough, sloppy, a mash of tongue and teeth—while unashamedly spreading the fat of your ass, his wrists pinning your hips so you can’t ride him. 

“J-Jack. Please… just—just fuck me already.” You try to sound as confident as possible, but you know better than to disrupt Jack while he’s far away somewhere, lost in the feel of your body. It frustrates you how patient he is sometimes. You want to be fucked. Now. 

You bring your fingers down to your swollen clit, wanting some friction. He stops you with his words.

“Okay, baby.” A kiss to the tip of your nose. “Thank you for saying please.” He smiles down at you in his devilish, gremlin-ly way. And you can’t help but want to both slap him and kiss him breathless for it.

Jack lifts you again, slowly, so only the tip of his cock is slightly pushing against your pillowy cunt, hole clenching around nothing while you hold onto his shoulders, shaking slightly. 

“Ready?” Jack asks. You give him a firm nod, and Jack slams you back down to his pelvis, the back of your thighs scratching against his scrubs. He begins a rough, but measured pace, cock hitting at just the right angle to make you go dumb. 

You’re fucking wet. Juices stain the black of Jack’s scrubs, and he wears it like a badge of honor.

He forces your mouth open with the press of his thumb.

“Open wide, sweetheart.” Jack spits into your mouth, and you swallow his saliva down, moaning at his possessive display of affection. Jack groans at your obedience, cock twitching inside you, pride swelling in his chest at the act.

“There you go, sweet girl, doing so damn good for me, hm?” When you don’t respond, he gives a quick slap on your ass, and you yelp at the unexpected contact, clenching tight around his cock. He groans at the feel of your soft pussy wrapped around him.

“Yes, yes, yes. S’good, s-so good,” you babble, clearly out of it with how fast Jack is thrusting into you now.

Jack takes his hand from your hip and presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, wanting nothing more than for you to come on his cock. He’s desperate for it—what was less than a second ago an intentional, controlled stroke of your clit, is now frantic and sloppy.

He’s been patient enough. 

Jack looks between your lips, wanting to kiss you, and where you’re connected, pretty cunt wrapping around him like cling wrap on a dish. Warm, dripping, and ready to eat. He’ll make you cry on his tongue another time.

“I love you. I love you—I love you—I love you,” you chant and come on Jack’s cock with a cry, tearing up at the overstimulation as he ruts into you, chasing his own end. The guilt, despair, and exhaustion from the losses you faced today are pressed, compacted, and tucked away into the far corners of your mind. 

There’s only Jack. You and Jack. At this very moment.

Jack finishes inside you with a rumbling groan, plugging you up with his thick come. He gives you a deep, bruising kiss and he whispers, “I love you too, baby.”

You take a second to catch your breath, and he’s in no hurry to pull you off of him to clean both of you up. Instead, you and Jack remain there, on the couch, your liquids mixing and spilling onto the cushion from where your bodies connect. Jack concedes to himself that it’s probably about time to replace the thing.

He’ll do it for you.

Now, Jack is the first to speak. 

“Are you okay, sweet girl?” You nod into his shoulder, too spent to give him a verbal response. Jack takes that for an answer and holds you tighter to his chest. He knows he should move you to bed, the cold seeping into your naked and weary body, but for now, you both stay holding each other like this. Just for a few more minutes. 

You doze off in his arms, and Jack takes that as his cue to head to bed. He gently pulls you off of his now softened cock, jaw tightening when he sees his come leaking from your sore pussy. He pushes as much of it back inside you as gently as he can, then easily carries you, bridal style, to his bedroom. 

Jack brings you to your side of the bed and tucks you in. 

Prosthetic finally off, he sidles up next to you and wraps his arms around you, reaching for your hand.

He’s made a habit of reaching for your left hand at night, once you’re asleep and he’s awake with his thoughts, delicately pressing your ring finger between his thumb and forefinger.

He kisses the top of your head and makes a mental note to bite the bullet and buy the ring tomorrow. Hopefully Dana doesn’t come collecting her finder’s fee.

Feel free to print and distribute this image

celineyrs

date sweet men. men who can articulate themselves. men who are soft spoken. men who are patient with you. men who respect their own bodies. men who are kind to your soul. men that are gentle. men who have self control.

To Go, Please | the materialists pt 2/2

pairing: Harry Castillo x f!reader (the materialists)

word count: 3.8k

summary: After arriving at Harry's place with tension high for each other after dinner, he convinces you to stay the night.

chapter warnings: SMUT (18+ MDNI), m!oral receiving, implied f!oral receiving, piv unprotected, fluff, mutual pining, Harry speaks Spanish but translations are there, cream pie, dirty talk, soft!harry.

a/n: I fear I have gone feral for this man over the past few days and on top of my upcoming rodeo!joelmiller fic, there will also be a series with harry coming out soon (will post a sneak peak sometime this week). god help us all when this movie releases... 💀🤍

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 

Part Two

–

You felt like you were floating as you went further down the hall into his bedroom. Your hands were on his chest, lightly pulling on his sweater as you kissed him slowly and deeply. His hands cupped your cheek and murmured, “I crave you…” as he began to pepper your lips with kisses, “Estas cautivadora…” (You’re captivating)

He had spoken Spanish to you before, but something about it being chanted to you like this, while he had you like this under his gaze, it was intoxicating. 

Your hands rested on his chest, smiling brightly, softly giggling. His hands moved down your cheeks to your shoulders, down your arms to take your hands in his, lacing his fingers with yours, parting from your lips for a moment, pulling you slowly down the hallway as he walked backward, softly chuckling at how carefree and light he was feeling. 

You lightly bit your bottom lip following him, eyes on his before you needed your lips back on his, so you pulled him back in by his hands. You put his hands on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck and murmured, “Come ‘ere…” You teased your hands through his hair, looking into his eyes. 

He smirked as he leaned down and reconnected your lips with his, the kiss starting gentle and slow but becoming more deep and passionate the closer the two of you got down the hall and into the bedroom.

As soon as you crossed the threshold between the hall and the bedroom, both of your hands rushed to start undressing each other.

He parted from your lips, but was softly panting as he nudged his nose with yours, “May I?” he whispered as his fingertips breached the hem of your now untucked blouse, softly caressing your skin. 

You nodded and smiled, whispering back, “Yes…” then softly placed your hand on his cheek to bring him back to you and kissing him as he began to unbutton your blouse, gently but in somewhat of a rush. 

As he did this and you were certain his lips would stay to yours, your hands fell down his body and started to gently palm him through his trousers, earning a groan against your lips from him. You then smirked and hummed in agreement before going up to his belt to start undoing it.

He was halfway down your blouse when he groaned impatiently against your lips and pulled away just a fraction, “Fuck it…” he then tore open your blouse the rest of the way, buttons falling to the floor– your bare skin and black lace bra now on display.

You gasped and let out a small giggle, “Harry!” blushing madly.

He smirked as his eyes fell to your chest, he lightly bit his lip taking his view in before he looked up, “I’ll buy you a new one… in every color…” he was lightly panting, his eyes darting back and forth between your lips and eyes. 

You couldn’t help but grin as you undid his belt and started to unbutton his trousers, keeping eye contact with him, “So you’re going to buy me new clothes for the morning, a new blouse– in every color…” you unzipped his pants and smirked “I wonder what else will be in store as the night progresses…” you taunted before you slowly knelt before him and pulled his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, his hard cock sprang free. 

Your tongue darted between your lips as you looked at what was before you. 

You bit your lip again and then reached behind you, taking your blouse off and tossing it to the side, looking up at him, “Perhaps we should add to the list some throat lozenges…” You grinned before you reached for his member, slowly starting to stroke it before dragging your tongue up from the base to the tip. 

He inhaled sharply then looked down and couldn’t help but grin, “Mmm fuck–” He swallowed, “I’ll add those to the list to send my assistant– anything else?” he reached down and softly ran his thumb over your cheek. 

“Not at the moment…” you looked up at him tilting your head a little, “Can you think of anything else, handsome?” then you put your lips over the tip and moaned softly as you slowly sunk him into your mouth before slowly pulling back to the tip then back down again, this time a little further to tease him. 

His jaw slacked and he grunted, “F-fuck…” he groaned feeling you go deeper.

You kept one hand on the base, stroking it slowly as your mouth did most of the work– bobbing up and down, sucking him into your warmth. Your other hand laid against his thigh, using it to help keep you steady. 

He put his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding you down on his cock, groaning the deeper you’d get, “Fuck you look so good with your lips around my cock…” he smirked and clenched his jaw when you pushed yourself as deep as you could, gagging quietly then moaning softly as you pulled back off him with a soft ‘pop’. 

You swallowed and hummed, “Mmm, you taste so good baby…” You bit your lip and began stroking his length now covered in your spit. 

He felt a pull behind his navel and grunted, “Mmm fuck… god damn f-fuck–” he groaned, “Stand…” he whimpered. 

“Hmm?” you grinned and continued to stroke him, leaning in and kissing the crease between his pubic area and hip. 

“Querida (Darling), I’m only going to say this once more, stand up.” he grunted again and looked down at you, “Please…” he begged his brown eyes pleaded. 

You slowly rose to your feet and stood in front of him, keeping your hand on his cock, continuing to stroke him. 

He gently grabbed your chin and pulled your gaze up to his, “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doin’ that to me…” he grinned, “And I’ve not even started with you…”

Your eyes gazed at his lips then up to his eyes as you cooed, “Then why don’t you get started…” You moved in to kiss him but he pulled away just a fraction, he moved back a step and took his sweater off which left him now completely bare before you. 

He then cupped your cheek and whispered as he stepped back close to you, “I wanna take this slow… take my time with you…” he leaned in and nudged your nose softly, reaching his other hand behind your back to unclasp your bra, allowing it to fall off you, down to the ground. 

Your breath hitched and you moved your hands to lay on his chest as he pulled you closer by your waist.

“Harry?” your eyes fluttered closed, feeling him inch closer to your lips. 

“Yes?” he asked, leaning up to kiss your forehead gently, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You took a small quiet breath then opened your eyes, putting your hand on his cheek softly, speaking up softly, “I… I think… no… I am–” you found his eyes, “I’m falling in love with you...” you confessed. 

That smile he had already across his lips grew ten times wider. He gently held your cheek and then slowly started to walk you back toward the bed, “Can I confess something as well?” he asked, keeping his eyes on yours. 

You shyly nodded and gasped feeling the back of your knees hit the cooler silk sheets he had on his bed. 

He slowly turned you around, then sat on the bed, looking up at you as he pulled you to stand between his legs, “I’ve been falling for you since I saw you across the aisle at Richard and Mandy’s wedding…” he pulled you to sit in his lap, smiling up at you, “I want this… I want us…” 

You wrapped your arm around his neck, keeping the other on his cheek. Your legs straddling his waist, looking down at him as you listened. 

You leaned down and combed through his hair a few times before kissing him a few times, filled with love and passion.

He then wrapped his arm around the back of you as he turned and laid you on the bed softly then hovered over you, gently pulling from your lips, “I just want you to know that… know where I am.” he spoke softly and reached up to brush your hair out of your face. 

You smiled up at him and touched his cheek tenderly, whispering softly, “I want this too…” 

His eyes got softer than they already were and his smile grew just a fraction more before he slowly leaned back down, capturing your lips to his, kissing you slowly and deeply. 

Your fingers moved to comb through his hair again, pulling him closer. You felt his hands move to the waistband of your panties– so without parting from his lips you raised you hips to allow him to take them off of you. 

He did so and then nestled himself between your legs, his hand gently resting on your thigh while the other pulled your waist close to him. He slowly began to grind his hips, his hard cock sliding through your folds– causing you to softly moan against his lips. 

He continued this, edging the two of you on, creating this tension that you couldn’t put into words other than you both wanted the other, wanted each other now. 

He pulled away from your lips and whispered, “One sec…” then leaned over and opened his nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom. 

You turned your head to follow his movements and smiled softly as you looked at him, “Harry…” 

He looked at you, “Yeah?” he put it between his teeth tearing it open. 

You let out a soft giggle, “I uh… you don’t need to wear one if you don’t want to. I have an implant, so that’s not needed, if you’re comfortable with that…” you leaned your head over and gently kissed his arm that was closest to you. 

He looked down at you, and took the condom wrapper out of his mouth, “You sure?” he smiled softly and set it back on the nightstand then came back to you, cupping your cheek, “I don’t mind wearing one… but I…” his tongue darted between his lips and he leaned down, nudging his nose with yours, “I want you to feel safe…” he softly said. 

You blushed and reached up, touching his cheek, gently stroking it with your thumb, “I’m always safe…” you smiled finding his eyes, “I feel safe with you…” you said softly. 

He went to say something, his mouth opened slightly and there was a small sound that came from the back of his throat but then he smiled and shook his head, “I’ll just show you…” he then leaned down, carefully capturing your lips with his, kissing you slowly and lovingly for a few moments, hands exploring your body beneath him. 

He moved his hand down between your bodies before he aligned himself with your enterence before he slowly sunk into your warmth, humming against your lips, goosebumps eliciting up his body. 

Your breath hitched and you moaned against his lips.

His hand moved to grip the sheets beneath you as he began to roll his hips at a slow steady pace, grunting each time he sunk back into you. 

He pulled his lips back and softly pressed his forehead against yours, “God you feel so good… Eres tan hermosa (You’re so beautiful)…” he softly spoke, panting.

His breathes were soft and slow, but the beating of his heart was quick against your chest. You felt a slight buzz under his gaze, being with him like this. You couldn’t feel anything but him, not the coldness of the sheets, or the brisk breeze coming from the open window, it was just him. 

Just the two of you in this moment. 

You softly moaned every few thrusts in between breathes, you began grinding your hips with his to create more friction, more movement. 

He moved his hand to behind one of your thighs and pushed it upwards, creating more access to you for himself, letting himself get deeper as his hips thrusted into you. He quietly grunted and then peppered your jaw with kisses, making his way down to your neck, softly sucking love letters into your skin. 

You moaned a little louder, more breathier however as his name fell off your tongue. The coil had been slowly winding up and you felt it about to break as you felt a deep pull in your core, “Fuck… I think I’m going to cum…” you began to pant a little harder, your heart now pounding against your ribs, feeling a heat crawl up your spine, “F-fuck don’t stop…” you begged as you gripped his bicep and waist, your back starting to arch up against him. 

He grinned, “I’m not stoppin’... let go baby…” he grunted and gripped onto your thigh, “...for me…” he rasped. His hips didn’t stop, instead he pushed your leg a little more up, and with that you cried out, your back arching more up as you clenched around him, cumming harder than you ever had. 

He grunted and his jaw slacked open before he groaned deeply, “Fuck you feel so good…” he groaned again, muttering drunkenly, “Feel so good when you come undone on my cock…” 

You chuckled softly feeling yourself floating as you began coming down from your high, “God you’re intoxicating…” you breathed in and then pulled him up to your lips, pushing your head up to meet his lips in a slow but heated fit of kisses. 

He moved his hand that was gripping the sheets to cup your cheek, tenderly holding you close to him as he continued to grind into your heat, making soft sounds against your lips. 

You moved your hand down to his waist to pull him close, moaning softly against his lips as you felt him hit a deeper part of you.

He grunted and moved his lips to pepper kisses down your jaw then came down to your neck and shoulder, “Where do you want me… I…” his hand moved back to the sheets and gripped them tightly, his hot breath against your skin, immediately forcing you into overdrive, that coil building back up. 

You gasped and your head fell back against the soft and silky pillows. You couldn’t form a coherent response with how his cock felt deep inside you. You moaned and your chest arched– your nipples were perked and breasts boucing with each snap of his hips. You still had your hand on his waist so you just tugged softly and cried softly the only thing you could think of, “S-Stay…” you started panting a bit faster as your orgasm built up. 

He looked up at you and nodded then created a trail of kisses back up to you. He finished by kissing your forehead softly before he put his hand on the top of your head to create a barrier between you and the headboard he noticed you were close to hitting– but also softly used his thumb to stroke your temple as he hovered over you and continued to bury himself deep inside you. 

He grunted feeling you tighten around him and whimpered softly, “F-fuck…” then started murmering, “I’ll give you the world…” his eyes clenched shut and he groaned and then smiled and swallowed before opening his eyes and leaning down, kissing you slowly and deeply, whispering against your lips, “The moon. The fucking stars. Anything you ask, it’s yours. I’m yours…” 

You wrapped moved our hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heart beat strongly against your palm. The other hand teased through his hair as the two of you continued to kiss, the tension building tighter and tighter for the both of you with each thrust, softly mumbling between kisses, “I’m yours…” 

He pulled back from the kiss, muttering under his breath, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

Your hand moved up from his chest to cup his cheek, whispering, crying out softly, “Right there… please don’t stop… d-don’t stop…” as you softly moaned. 

He grunted and his jaw tightened as he tried to hold on a little longer in order to give you one more release, grunting as his hips started to thrust half haphazardly, speeding up a little. 

You gasped at the sudden change in speed and grabbed onto his shoulder, “Fuck fuck f-fuck…” you cried out then moaned his name as you came, pulsating against his cock as a wave of pleasure crashed over you. 

He let out a small chuckle of relief, smiling down at you, “Good… good girl…” he then moved his hand that was on your thigh to lace with your hand that was on his shoulder, pressing it into the bed beneath the two of you. After a couple moments he inhaled sharply then groaned as he spilled deep inside you, his knees buckling. 

You moaned softly feeling him come undone, holding tightly onto his hand, muttering as your chest heaved, “Kiss me Harry…” you pleaded, needing his lips on yours. 

He moved his hand from above your head to your chin and pulled you to his lips as he leaned in slowly, “Mi vida…” (My life) he whispered before his lips fell onto yours, his body going limp against yours. His hand let go of yours and put it onto your waist as he continued to slowly thrust every drop into you before pulling out with a small gasp from each of you, his cum spilling out of your now empty hole, running down your thighs.

He rolled off after a few moments, laying next to you– but stayed with your lips, wrapping his arm around your body, pulling you against him as he kissed your lips lazily but deeply. Both of your chests heaved against each other, hands moving gently across skin— exploring each others bodies. 

His lips momentarily left yours to trail across your neck, shoulder, chest, whispering how much he loved your body against his, how he wanted this– wanted you for the rest of his life before he made it back to your lips and kissed you ever so passionately, smiling against your lips. He had never felt so happy with someone in his bed, this was it for him, you were the endgame. 

He pulled gently from your lips and nudged your nose, "Stay right here..." he softly commanded before getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom.

You heard the tap turn on and off and then he walked out with a warm washcloth and smiled, "Here... let me..."

He sat on the bed and then gently wiped the mess between your legs, being sure to get as much as he could to help you feel clean after the mess he'd made. 

You watched him with a loving look in your eyes, adoring the small act of care.

He then tossed the used washcloth into the hamper on the other side of his room and put himself back under the sheets, pulling you back into his arms, "Now where was I?..." he bit his lip then smiled leaning down, "Oh that's right..." he gently took your chin in his grasp, pulling your lips to meet his in slow passionate kisses again.

As you both continued to devour each other's lips, you could hear raindrops and a small echo of thunder coming from the open window. The atmosphere was nothing short of peaceful and relaxing, sending you straight towards sleep the more you came down from your high. 

You hummed after a while and pulled back slowly, nudging your nose with his, your eyelids becoming heavy, “Hmm I thought of something else…” you murmured. 

Harry gently brushed some stray hairs back out of your face and looked down at you, kissing your nose ever so gently then pecked your lips, “What’s that, mi amor?” he spoke softly before taking his thumb and gently brushing it against your rosy cheek, memorizing your features as his eyes scanned your face. 

A small happy smile was etched into your lips and you took a deep relaxed breath, “I need a umbrella for my walk to work tomorrow… its…” you took a sweet short breath as you mumbled, sleep taking you, “raining…” 

He tsked, smiling lovingly down at you. He let out a small quiet chuckle then kissed your forehead gently, softly whispering into your skin as his lips lingered, “Get some sleep mi vida, I’ll take care of everything– I’ll take care of you…” 

Harry woke around 7am to his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He had his arms wrapped around you as he spooned you from behind. He slowly turned and grabbed his phone, answering the call, whispering so he didn’t wake you, “Yes?” 

“Sir, the items requested are on the entry way table and we have Scott in the kitchen making breakfast for the two of you, is there anything else I can get for you?” his assistant Bradley spoke through the phone. 

“Were you able to get the flowers I requested as well?” Harry looked over at you as he spoke. 

“Yes sir. I have them sitting in a vase on the dining table with the note you requested written next to it.” Bradley confirmed. 

“Thank you Bradley, that’ll be all.” Harry smiled softly then hung up the phone and set it back before slowly and quietly leaning back over, wrapping his arm back around your torso, softly kissing your shoulder. 

You took a deep breath and stirred in your sleep. You hummed sleepily and turned around to cuddle into his chest. 

Harry couldn’t help but smile lovingly as he watched you sleep. He took his hand and softly caressed his fingers up and down your arm, thinking of last nights events. 

You felt the small brush of his fingertips against your skin and a small warm smile slowly appeared on your lips. You hummed sleepily again, fluttering your eyes open, “Good morning…” your voice was thick with sleep.

His smile grew and his cheeks became warm with adoration as he leaned down and pecked your lips softly, “Good morning, querida…” he continued to brush his fingers up and down your soft skin, “How did you sleep?” he leaned up and gently kissed your forehead. 

You let out a small giggle, “Like a log…” you moved your hand to gently trace shapes into his chest with your fingertips, “You?” you asked looking up at him, studying his features before reaching up to gently kiss his jaw. 

His hand brushed once more up your arm before it came to rest and cup your cheek, “Best sleep I’ve had in years…” he chuckled before leaning in and kissing your slowly, lingering on your lips. 

You blushed and hummed his lips, your hand moving up to tease through his hair, “What time is it?” you murmured. 

He kissed your lips again, then mumbled, “Just after 7…” he kissed you again, “What time is your meeting?” he kissed you again, getting more passionate, starting to pull you closer against him. 

You returned the kiss and smiled against his lips, biting your bottom lip for a moment, “9…” you combed his hair back then softly trailed your hand down to his chest again. 

He grinned, “Good…” he kissed you deeply a couple times then parted from your lips a fraction, “That gives us more than enough time…” He gently pushed you to lay back, moving to lay himself between your legs. 

He then slowly slipped under the sheets, leaving a trail of soft delicate kisses down your body before he spent the next hour making love to you and making you only 10 minutes late to your meeting– which you didn’t mind one bit. 

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