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schrijverr · 1 year

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Mr. Kaspbrak's Office

Eddie and Richie seen through the eyes of Eddie’s secretary, Maria, as she slowly uncovers more of her boss’ private life.

On AO3.

Ships: Richie x Eddie

Warnings: none

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Maria was the secretary of the old LA department manager before he is replaced by Mr. Kaspbrak, who keeps her on as secretary, because she obviously functions well within the company thus he sees no reason to replace her.

She appreciated him for letting her keep her job, however that does not mean she is ready to work with Mr. Kaspbrak. If she is honest, Mr. Kaspbrak is a mystery and a stern mystery at that. He has been her boss for six weeks now, which means she knows all his habits and oddities. Currently she is ordering lunch from the list of approved places, making sure to put in careful instructions as to how the food is supposed to be prepared and send over.

It’s not that Mr. Kaspbrak is rude to people working lower wage jobs that his, she has discovered, he is just very particular. The same way he carries hand sanitizer everywhere he goes and has a handkerchief to open doors with or push elevator buttons.

Mr. Kaspbrak is a clean man.

But that is not the only odd thing about him. If Mr. Kaspbrak was merely a tad too clean and particular then Maria would count her blessings and continue on. As stated before, Mr. Kaspbrak is a mystery, which shouldn’t be possible for her, since her job is literally to manage his time.

Yet in his Google calendar most of his nights are blocked out in a color coded system that simple states busy with no further explanation. She is sure there must be a system, but she can’t figure out why or what. It is even more irritating, since all of his other appointments and meetings are in another color coded system, but all of those are clearly labeled in a system Mr. Kaspbrak had made her learn. So, why did it only apply to business?

Yeah, yeah, she understood that Mr. Kaspbrak is obviously a private person, but she can’t help the curiosity that clings to her.

It is not just how private he is or how clean that makes that curiosity worse, the fact is that Mr. Kaspbrak is a mystery to a bigger extend. He has a scar across his cheek and walks with a cane, something he never comments on. The rumor mill has it he is a mafia boss on the side, something that isn’t helped with his New York accent intermingled with words that belong in neither LA or NYC and the intense look he gets in his eyes or how he can snap if someone messes up.

Maria herself doesn’t believe these rumors, of course. Mr. Kaspbrak is her boss and she would never think any sort of thing about him when he pays her well and treats her with more respect than most other senior workers. A boss, who looks at her eyes instead of her boobs and doesn’t make weird comments about her immigrant status is a win in her book, so she won’t participate in that sort of gossip.

However, he does not make it easy for her. It’s the sixth week and she gets a call. Like always she picks up with: “Mr. Kaspbrak’s office, this is Maria Rivera speaking. How can help you?”

There is a snort over the line as someone mutters in an amused voice: “Mr. Kaspbrak.”

Unable to help the little offense on her overall good boss’ behalf, she says: “Sorry, but is there anything I can help you with?” in a pointed voice that tells whoever is there that she will hang up if he does not.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” the voice says and Maria thinks she has heard it before, wracking her brain to place it. “Eds left something important looking by the door. Knowing him, he’s probably talking himself into a breakdown trying to find it.”

“Something important?” Maria repeats. “I’m sorry, I can take your message, but I need more information than that, sir. What is your name?”

“Oh you can just connect me through to him,” the voice says casually as if it’s that easy. “I have no idea how to describe what I’m looking at other than ink on paper. And you don’t have to bother with the whole sir thing, I promise.”

“Alright, uhm, can you try and describe it better?” Maria asks, not just wanting to bother Mr. Kaspbrak without it being necessary.

“Well, it is a manila file with papers in it,” the man tells her in an unhelpful manner, though he is obviously trying, because he gives up with a sigh and asks again: “Can you just put me through?”

“I can ask, if he has the time,” Maria resigns herself to having to bother Mr. Kaspbrak and hopes it is truly important. “What is your name, sir?”

“Tell him his favorite trashcan is calling,” the voice says.

“Sir,” Maria replies in a ‘please be serious’-tone.

“I am quite serious about that,” the voice replies in an equally stubborn tone. “And please, no sir for me.”

Maria argues for a little longer, then decides that this might be above her pay grade. A mysterious caller, who uses a code name and claims that her very organized boss forgot something important. It sounds ludicrous, but if Mr. Kaspbrak is in the mafia, she’s not getting involved.

“Please hold for a moment, sir,” she informs the man on the line, before putting him on hold and getting out of her chair to knock on Mr. Kaspbrak’s office door, crossing her finger that he is in a good mood.

“Come in,” he calls, sounding annoyed. Not good.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” she opens the door where Mr. Kaspbrak is standing, surrounded by all the stuff from his bag, as if he is trying to locate something important. The call is starting to look more and more legit. “Someone is on the line for you. Says you left something and told me to tell you the caller is your favorite trashcan. He wouldn't give me a proper name, sorry, sir.”

She expects Mr. Kaspbrak to get angry with her and send her away, instead he surprises her by smiling. Actually smiling. He rarely does that. Then he says: “Connect him through, thank you, Ms. Rivera.”

“I will, sir,” she tells him before returning to her desk. She hears the phone ring for only a second, then she hears Mr. Kaspbrak say: “Please tell me you are looking at my files from the Lemmin Inc. assessment,” before the door falls shut.

Safe to say, her curiosity is piqued. And yeah, she knows that she should just ignore this weird instance, never talk or think about it and hope it isn’t anything she can end up in a ditch about if she ever does.

However, then Mr. Kaspbrak has the audacity to leave his office after he hangs up, which never happens without it being on the schedule, coming back with the file and looking happier and relaxed than she has ever seen him at that time in the day. Not to mention that Mr. Trashcan as she named him in her heads starts to call more often.

The second time it happens she doesn’t fight him on not giving her a name, since Mr. Kaspbrak obviously hadn’t minded the first time. The third time Mr. Kaspbrak told her to just connect him through if he called, never giving her any more information than that.

Whenever Mr. Trashcan calls she can hear Mr. Kaspbrak laughing, like whatever is being said is funny enough to crack through the professional exterior. Maria doesn’t believe that anyone calling himself someone’s favorite trashcan had a sophisticated sense of humor to make Mr. Kaspbrak laugh.

But it isn’t just that. Mr. Kaspbrack often leaves after his calls, as if that is a thing he does. Spoiler, he doesn’t! Yet for Mr. Trashcan he leaves, often making her cancel the lunch order she just carefully put in.

It’s enough to make her curious. Very curious.

A part of her wants to ask. She has been working for Edward, as she is allowed to call him now, for six months already now. Half a year is long enough to be able to ask about your boss’ private life, right?

Yet Maria knows that for Edward it isn’t. He doesn’t like mixing his domestic life with business. Last week an intern asked if he was from Maine when he let ‘Ahuy’ slip and Edward raised such a pointed brow and told the intern that it was not relevant information for him to know, so why in the world was he wasting Edward’s time with asking it? The intern nearly cried.

Afterwards she saw him doing breathing exercises in his office. If the question if he’s from Maine is enough to make him do breathing exercises to calm his anger down, she can’t imagine how her questions about Mr. Trashcan will land.

So, she keeps connecting his calls through to Edward’s office and feeling curious. She tells her sister all about it when she calls her, the two of them gossiping like they always used to when they were kids.

Her sister wants her to ask, claiming it is better to know and get out now, before she is called out to bury a body. Though Maria suspects it is more because she has made her curious and she wants Maria to ask to satiate her own curiosity as well.

However, the theory that Mr. Trashcan is Edward’s lover that her sister concocted always makes her laugh. She can’t imagine Edward falling for someone like Mr. Trashcan.

Obviously she doesn’t know Mr. Trashcan at all and Edward barely all things considered, but Mr. Trashcan always makes stupid jokes or does silly voices when he calls, sounding like he is in the middle of some odd happening too. She can’t picture him next to stern, orderly, clean Edward, even if he were gay, which she thinks is a possibility. Edward wouldn't tell anyone at work if he were, that much is clear.

Still, whenever the phone rings she wonders if it’s him. Wants to ask. Burns to know more. But she doesn’t, she likes her job.

After seven months of working for Edward, however, she gets some more information. The phone rings and she picks up with her standard greeting: “Mr. Kaspbrak’s office, this is Maria Rivera speaking. How can help you?”

“Ah, Maria, hi,” Mr. Trashcan greets her.

“Hi, sir,” she replies with a friendly smile. He calls often enough that she knows him well enough to warrant, though she rigorously sticks with sir, fearing that she’ll slip up and call him Mr. Trashcan to his face one of these days. “Edward is in his office.”

“It’s still hilarious you call him Edward,” Mr. Trashcan says and it makes her wonder if Edward is even his name. A small ridiculous part of her wouldn't put it past him.

Electing to ignore the strange comment, she says: “I’ll put you through.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Trashcan says, before she pushes the right buttons.

As always she hears the phone ring for a second. However, unlike always Eddie doesn’t pick up, instead the phone rings until it goes still. Concerned, since this has never happened, Maria gets up and knocks on Edward’s door.

“Come in,” she hears Edward call out.

She pushes open the door, unsure of how to say this now that she has been let in. She opens the door to find Edward completely fine, which is a relief. A part of her had imagine him lying on the floor having a heart attack, something that seemed almost more likely than him not picking up the phone in a businesslike manner. Then she says: “You had a call, sir. Did it not go through right?”

“Oh, it did. I’m busy and I didn’t expect a call,” Edward tells her, indeed surrounded by stacks of work that only ever seem to grow. “Who was it?”

“Uhm, your- your favorite trashcan?” Maria answers, phrasing it like a question, because there is no other way to indicate who was on the line.

“Fuck,” Edward curses, something that has never happened, before digging his cellphone out of his bag, which he keeps in there as to not distract him while he works.

Maria stands on the threshold for a few seconds, unable to move and just staring at her boss. She has never seen Edward swear, or do anything unprofessional like it. He rarely doesn’t pick up calls and he never frantically digs out his phone, which he keeps away so it won’t distract him. Whoever Mr. Trashcan is, he might be more important to Edward than Maria first thought.

It is only when Edward holds the phone up to his ear anxiously that she snaps out of it and quickly retreats back to her desk. She vaguely hears: “I’m so sorry,” in a tone she has never heard Edward use.

Another fucking layer to the mystery.

At least until the next time Mr. Trashcan calls. As always she picks up professionally: “Mr. Kaspbrak’s office, this is Maria Rivera speaking. How can help you?”

“Hi, Maria,” Mr. Trashcan greets pleasantly.

“Hi, sir,” she replies. “I’ll connect you to the office.”

“Wait,” Mr. Trashcan says.

Maria halts, she has never saw this coming and is a little cautious about what Mr. Trashcan might want from her. So, a little apprehensively she asks: “What can I help you with, sir?”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Mr. Trashcan answers. “I know I said that before, kind of gave up on it for a bit, thought you were really stubborn. But Eddie, sorry, Edward,” Mr Trashcan snorts, interrupting his own seemingly senseless rambling, “just – well not just, but last time I called – he said you still referred to me as trashcan, which explains a lot. And I mean, it’s not terribly off, but it’s just stupid. Eddie can get a little weird. I get it though, but still. Fuck, I’m rambling.”

“Just a little, uhm, sir?” she adds, unable not to despite just being told it was unnecessary. She has been trained to be polite.

“Ah yes, that,” Mr. Trashcan exclaims. “Just call me Richie, I’m Richie. None of that sir stuff. And nice to meet you, kind of. Sorry.”

Richie.

Maria has a name for Mr. Trashcan. It might not seem like much, but after seven months under Edward, she finally has a first name of the person, who calls the most. She grins and it might be obvious in her voice, but she doesn’t care as she replies: “It is nice to sort of meet you, Richie. Shall I put you through to Edward?”

“Yes, please,” Richie says gleefully, which doesn’t dissuade Maria’s smile as she puts him through to the office. His enthusiasm for her boss is kind of cute, if she’s honest. She hopes that her sister is right and that if there is something there, they hold on to it.

As she hears the familiar ringing that is cut off by Edward’s greeting, she turns the newly acquired information in her head. Richie. Mr. Trashcan is Richie, somewhere in her brain there is a connection, she thinks, but it escapes her.

Then she is reminded of another aspect of the conversation. Richie called Edward Eddie. It is almost comical to imagine anyone calling her boss such a nickname, yet there it was. It rolled easily off his tongue, thus must be used often. Wild.

Richie and Eddie. Her boss and his caller. She knows that now. Knows something private. It feels like she has a foot in the door.

It should be a little weird how badly she wants to know about her boss’ private life. Maybe it even is a little weird, but Maria can’t help it. She has moved away from her family and isn’t the most social herself either. This is the closest thing she has. Besides, being a secretary is mostly boring and nothing is more entertaining than imagining wild scenarios of a childhood filled with adventure and thrill for her boss, who wouldn’t come close to dirt unless he absolutely had to.

So, she cuts herself some slack about the oddness of her behavior and looks forwards to the next time Richie calls, wondering if she’ll get more information.

And she does!

Now that Richie has introduced himself to her, he stays to chat more often before being patched through to Edward. He is quite funny, but also asks after her well being and her day, which is a nice change from the corporate soulless being she often talks to.

Over the course of three months she learns that Edward swims, because he wants to do cardio, but running is out for him. His cane is due to an injury of some sort, since Richie refers to Edward being hospitalized, which is crazy. Edward also likes to read.

All in all, the list isn’t long, but it is something. Maria’s boss is slowly become more human all by a voice, for which she doesn’t have a face nor an indication of how he relates to Edward, just that he calls and makes him laugh and often leave.

Richie is also a mystery, but less so. Despite the fact that she knows even less about the man, he is so open when he talks that she feels like she knows more about him than she does. She knows about his visits to the coffee shop near him and his neighbors, but not what he does or how he knows Edward.

His voice is also familiar. At this point she isn’t sure that is because she heard it somewhere else or because she heard Richie so often. It is like he settled in alongside Edward, getting more comfortable calling more often as Edward got more comfortable at the company.

In short, her boss and the company he keeps, give her something to focus on as she slowly colors in the picture of who they are.

A big chuck of the picture is filled in, a lot of pieces clicking together, when she finally meets Richie in person. Not only that, but also sees Edward interacting with Richie, beyond the fact he picks up the phone and knows him by trashcan.

She has been working under Edward for the past ten months when it happens. They have been swamped by a big one and everyone has been working late. Maria doesn’t think Edward has gone home, except for the fact that he has a clean suit on each day.

The phone rings and she mentally crosses her fingers that it isn’t more work that she has to send Edward’s way. She likes her boss, despite the particularities. “Mr. Kaspbrak’s office, this is Maria Rivera speaking. How can help you?” she picks up.

“Maria, hello,” Richie greets her.

“Hi Richie,” she replies, mentally preparing for what she has to tell him. “I am so sorry, Edward is very busy right now. He is not accepting calls at the moment.”

It’s quiet for a second, then Richie asks: “He has been eating alright, right? Not skipping lunch breaks to work himself to the bone?”

“I don’t think I am allowed to give you that information,” she says apologetically, able to hear how concerned Richie sounds and thinking off all the half- or un-eaten lunches she has had to throw away.

“Fucking hell,” Richie mutters, not directed at her it seems, because he then says: “That is understandable, thank you, Maria. What floor is his office on again?”

“The 30th,” Maria answers, before realizing the implication.

“Alright, thank you,” Richie says and hangs up before she can ask more. It leaves her sitting there dazed and confused.

She wonders if she guessed correctly that he is coming by to check up on Edward. Her sister’s voice speculating about them being lovers echoing in her mind. Then immediately she wonders if Edward would allow such treatment during such a busy time and if she should warn him.

Maria looks back to the office. She can almost hear the frantic typing and see the thunderstorm above his head. Honestly, she doesn’t really need an angry snapping. If Edward is to let his frustration out on someone, let it be Richie.

So, she goes back to her work and tries to convince herself that she made the right decision, before trying to convince herself she misinterpreted his words.

However, twenty minutes later someone steps off the elevator that obviously does not fit into the office, which makes her question that. He is tall, scruffy and dressed in an odd print shirt with novelty socks peaking up from his beat up sneakers.

The fact that he looks like a college student hit by an aging beam, makes that it takes a second before she realizes that she has seen this man before. Because the man walking down the hall is Richie Tozier, America’s favorite Trashmouth.

Suddenly it all makes sense and at the same time it totally doesn’t.

What Maria means is that Richie makes sense. Mr. Trashcan. It clicks why Edward would recognize that name in relation to Richie. Why he wouldn’t just give her his name, hell he has just been nominated for an Emmy for that Bill Denbrough adaptation, of course he wouldn't want some random secretary to have his number. It now also makes sense why he is always making jokes. It is quite literally his job.

What absolutely doesn’t make sense is why Richie Tozier knows her stern boss. Nor why Richie makes time in his probably equally busy schedule to call so much. Nor why he is coming to check up on her boss.

Another fucking mystery.

The fact that Richie came out as gay after a two year disappearance flashes through her brain alongside her sister’s voice. But the idea of the man, who thinks asking someone if they’re from Maine is unprofessional, being together with someone, who tells dick jokes for a living, seems absurd. Plus that still leaves the question of how they met.

Yet there he is and very few other explanations spring to mind as he comes closer and closer with her trying to hide her shock behind some professionalism. “Mr. Tozier,” she squeaks, when he gets to her desk.

Richie laughs a bit awkwardly, but smiles kindly: “Ah, so you caught onto that. Sorry for being odd on the phone, I felt like I was in a terrible spy movie.”

“Totally understandable, sir,” she replies.

“Please stop with the sir,” Richie says. “And Richie is fine too, I promise. I’m more laid back than Eddie over there.” He nods to the closed door, Edward hasn’t noticed him through the glass wall, still furiously working.

Maria remembers this is her job and tells Richie: “I can let Edward know you’re here, but he might not be open to visitors at this time. This might be a wasted trip.”

Richie smiles as if he knows something she doesn’t. However, she has gotten used to not knowing something during her time under Edward, so she takes it in stride as Richie requests she alerts Edward to his presence anyway.

So, she gets up and knocks on Edward’s door as she opens it. He looks up with a snap and grimaces apologetically as she says: “There is a visitor here for you.”

“That’s not on the schedule,” Edward frowns.

“I know, but-” she starts, before she is cut off.

“Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie exclaims behind her, waving manically. “I have sat through all your lectures about proper nutrition and how bad stress is for you, so I am here to repeat them to you over lunch. Get packing, dickhead.”

Maria is sure her eyes are falling out of their sockets, they must be by how she is staring at Richie, because he is insane. No one calls Edward Eddie, what is he thinking with Eddie Spaghetti or dickhead. Not to mention that pulling him away from his work is neigh impossible, trust her, she’s been trying for nearly a year.

However, instead of exploding Edward chuckles. Chuckles! Maria looks back around to see the most unlikely look on Edward’s face, a relaxed grin is right there on his lips and he looks fondly at Richie. When he replies, it is equally out of character. “Like you can repeat what I told you in any way, fucker. You tell dick jokes for a living.”

“You love my dick jokes, besides your mom said I was pretty close to you when we were making sweet sweet love last night,” Richie shoots back.

“Don’t you think you should stop those jokes now that she’s dead?” Edward asks, a revelation which is horrifying to Maria, but both men are smiling fondly, so she decides to try and disappear into the background.

“I stop the moment it stops being funny,” Richie defends himself.

“It was never funny.”

“Agree to disagree,” Richie shrugs. “Now get up, I’m hungry.”

“Your treat,” Edward surprises Maria by getting up without protest, shrugging on his coat, before turning to her. “Maria, please tell anyone that comes by to come back later. I am out for lunch. I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“Make it 45,” Richie protests.

“Alright, 45,” Edward gives in with an easy smile, stepping into Richie’s space with a familiar ease that makes Maria’s heart ache in a good way.

She suddenly realizes that her sister was right as she watches Richie throw an arm around her boss, which gives him a blush, though he doesn’t shrugs the arm off, instead leaning into it. She also realizes that right now, she is not looking at her boss. She is looking at Eddie, Richie’s boyfriend, who usually doesn’t exists on the work floor.

Being allowed to witness this is a privilege. He is letting her see a more private part of himself, something he doesn’t allow anyone else at work. It gives her a sense of accomplishment, so she gives him an assuring smile and says: “Of course, sir. I can try to move your two o’clock and get you an hour and a half.”

Eddie looks between his desk and Richie with anguish, trying to decide which he should prioritize with the pressure everyone is under right now. Then Richie nudges him and softly says that it’s okay, which is enough for Eddie to say: “That would be great, thank you.”

“No problem, sir,” she responds, before sitting at her desk and grabbing the phone, trying to make it seem she is focusing on that instead of watching the two men leave.

Richie dives into some elaborate story it seems and Eddie is laugh at some points, raising his eyebrow at others and seemingly arguing as well. It’s a little odd, but they look happy and domestic. It’s sweet really.

Maria doesn’t think she will ever fully solve the mystery that is Edward Kaspbrak. However, he kept her on, because she functions well and she is grateful for that. Beyond that, he has proven himself to be a good boss and she likes working for him.

If functioning under Eddie means keeping gossip away and creating lunchtime with his boyfriend, later husband, during busy periods, then that’s just fine with her.

Maybe he’ll tell her how he met famous comedian Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier when they’ve been working together for ten years. She doesn’t get her hopes up, but a girl can dream.

A/N:

For those who read my Suits fic, yes Lemmin Inc. is back, whoooo

Also I love POV Outsider fics, they are so so good and I have read all of them and I needed more, so here I am, enabling myself xppp

#rr writing #it 2017 #it 2019 #it stephen king #reddie #OCs #outsiders pov #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #richie x eddie #post it chapter 2 #eddie kaspbrak lives

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coryosbaby · 5 months

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2. 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓵𝓴 𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓼

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: Anakin sneaks into your room when everyone is asleep, finds your diary, fucks you, and then his wife asks your mother if she can stay the night.

𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties), Anakin with nipple piercings— nsfw . daddy kink, pillow humping, doggy | | 𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭: baby, little girl, kid, honey, kitten

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 2 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)

With honeyed eyes and a smile, you can’t stop thinking about your next door neighbor.

You can’t help it! He’s so dreamy, with his big muscled arms, dark hair, and pretty face. And he wants you.

It’s ridiculous; you’re swooning, writing in your glittery pink journal with brushy strokes — Mrs. Skywalker , Mrs. Skywalker, Mrs. Skywalker.

And although it isn’t true— although another woman is taking that name instead of you— you know that this is who you’re meant to be, who you’re meant to love.

Not her.

It’s a hot summer night, a good three days since your last Anakin encounter, and you’ve opened your windows. Warm air streams in through your pink curtains, giving way to a breath of fresh air on your cheeks. Your tank top strap has fallen down, showing some of your collarbone and a bit of your cleavage. Your nipples poke through the fabric, pebbled and— if you’re being honest— you’re incredibly horny.

You can smell the scent of your favorite vanilla candle burning on your desk, but you wish you were smelling Ani instead.

And like clockwork, as if the gods themselves intend it, there he is.

You don’t see him at first— your hand is about to slip down the front of your pajama shorts instead of writing. But when you hear a clatter and a small murmur of “fuck,” from outside of your window you immediately know who it is.

He’s dressed in a black button up and jeans with a cross necklace. Clearly he hasn’t been sleeping even though it’s three in the morning, though you suspect it’s because he’s waited up for you. He grins at you as you take sight of him. His shirt is unbuttoned, leaving little to the imagination. You’ve never noticed it before, given you hadn’t taken his shirt off that first time he fucked you, but his nipples are pierced. Metal barbels sit through them and his chest glistens with a hint of sweat.

Oh, Jesus, you’re swooning.

“Doing that without me?” He teases, grinning. His arms lean against the top of your window.

Excitedly, you get up and run to him as he slips into your room. Your arms wrap around him, and you press your face into his chest. He smells like sweat, cologne, and a hint of alcohol— that must be why he’s become so brave, sneaking into your room like this. You don’t mind. He pulls you to him, and without warning he picks you up and swings you around. You squeal, holding onto his neck as he brings you to your bed and lays you down on it.

“What’s got you so happy?” You ask him. One of his hands grabs your hip while the other comes up to your neck. Your fingers stroke his messy tendrils of hair out of his face. He grins.

“Gettin’ to see you..” he teasingly brings one of your fingers into his mouth, nibbling lightly on your knuckles. “Also, I got a raise.”

You know working as a contractor is no easy job, especially with today’s day and age where money is hard to come by. So the announcement of that has you extremely excited for him.

“That’s fantastic, Ani!” You praise him. You kiss the tip of his nose, and biting your lip as you remember the wetness seeping through your panties, your eyes come down to his chest.

“Didn’t know you had those,” you murmur. Your fingers come down to flick at one of the nipple rings. Anakin sucks in a breath of air, his eyes following your hands on him. “Did they hurt?”

“Like a bitch…” he lets out a tiny sound in the back his throat when you move the barbells side to side and play with them, the stimulation making his cock kick. “Worth it, though. Got em’ a few years ago.”

“Oh yeah? Trying to fit in with the cool kids, old man?”

He snorts, a small smile playing on his lips. “Old man. I’m only fifteen years older than you, little girl.”

“A whole teenager when I was born.” You sigh.

Anakin’s face drops for a moment, curiosity and hint of worry etching across his features.

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“If it did, I wouldn’t fuck you.” You reply nonchalantly. There’s a playful glint in your eye as you look down at his bulging crotch. “Speaking of…”

You palm him, and he groans lowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Speaking of..”

His knee falls in between your legs, grinding up against the spot that you want him most. “Came to see you, but also came to see this little pussy.”

You whine, rolling your hips up against his touch. His fingers reach between your legs, pulling another mewl out of you as he flicks your clit with his thumb. Anakin coos, mockingly pouting.

“Does it hurt when daddy isn’t touching you, baby?“ You nod your head, and it has Anakin grinning ear to ear. “Thought so. Missed this, honey… missed you purrin’ like a little kitten for me.”

He lifts himself up onto his knees, pulling your legs towards him so your thighs are wrapped around his waist. He lifts your shirt up to your ribs, beginning to leave small kisses as he slips his shirt off of his shoulders. He bites down into your belly, leaving a hint of teeth marks there. All while you’re mewling the whole time— your hands are in his hair, pussy clenching. His arm hits something, mid kiss— what could it be? Pulling away, he takes sight of your journal. Closed, with sparkly pink glitter all over it and your name written in jumbled letters on the front. His curiosity peaks, and he picks it up with raised eyebrows.

“Is this your diary?” He asks, amused. You blush, trying to reach up and grab the book away from him. But he just tsks, and holds your arm down with his much stronger one.

“Wonder what you’ve written in here, baby.”

“No! Don’t do that!” You struggle against him, but to no avail. “Ani, c’mon…”

He flips through the pages with one hand, opening it mid air. And there, in between the pages, falls out a small square photo. Anakin’s Facebook profile picture— him, with his wife. Except his wife isn’t in the photo because you had cut her face out of it.

Anakin should be a little freaked out. Especially since when he continues to flip through the pages, he sees the entry where you had wrote Mrs Skywalker— and Anakin’s name. Just his name, over and over. But he isn’t. Quite the contrary, he gives you another one of his toothy grins and lets out a laugh.

“Jesus, kid. You’re a little stalker, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m not!” You squirm, and he loosens his grip on you. You scramble to put the photo back in between the pages and shut the book abruptly. You hastily move away from Anakin and off the bed to put it into the pink safe in your closet where it belongs. Anakin trails behind you. Quick to forget the pain in your knees as you sit on them and close the lid, you begin to lock up the safe.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” you mutter. You lean forward and nervously fumble through your hair as your hands rest on the lid. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cute,” Anakin replies wholeheartedly. But then, his voice has a dangerous lilt to it, as his fingers make their way to the locks of your hair. He grips it tightly, pulling it back so your head lifts to look up at him. He bends down, just enough so he can graze his lips against your ear. “Sweet, even.. you like me a lot. Don’t you, kitten?”

Flushed, you nod your head. He lets go of your hair, and your head drops back to its regular position. You let out a tiny whimper. As you stand up, Anakin watches your tits bounce through your tank top with a hungry stare. His mouth is on yours, then. Hot and heavy, licking into your mouth and shooting white hot heat up the expanse of your spine. It’s so sudden— your knees practically buckle. You love the way he kisses you. Hungry, aching, hot. His arms envelope your body into his much wider one, and he begins to guide you back towards your ruffled pink sheets. Your knees hit the edge of the bed and you tumble down onto them with Anakin’s fit body straddling your legs. His big hands fist the hem of your tank top and pull it up over your chest so he can get a taste of your sweet, plump tits. He grab your wrists and pins them above your head as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Ani..” you moan, watching the way his lashes flutter and he desperately laps at your pebbled bud. He hums, but when you let out a particularly loud whine, he’s putting his hand over your mouth and pulling away.

“Be quiet,” he says. “Don’t wake them up, or you’re in big trouble.”

You nod, obedient, but instead of diving back into your chest, Anakin’s eyes fixate on your pillow wrapped in silky pink satin. He grabs it, positions it on the bed, and lifts your body up. He slides your shorts down your legs, exposing your wet, clenching cunt. He positions the pillow underneath you.

“Hump it, baby. If you’re good, I’ll fuck you nice and hard. How’s that sound?”

You nod, heat creeping up your neck at the thought of Anakin watching you in such a way. Your pussy lips hit the pillow, and you lean onto your hands to gather friction. You move your hips back and forth, and oh, the silk on your sweet cunt makes you drenched. The way it catches just right on your puffy little clit, your pussy beginning to quiver as it gets the stimulation it so desperately needed. Anakin watches, on his knees, and you look back behind you to see him stroking himself. He’s standing in front of the bed, your ass facing him on the edge. He’s got his thick cock out in his hand, his eyes fixated on the fat of your ass and your pussy peeking out from between your legs. The sight only makes you fuck yourself harder.

It isn’t long, with Ani’s depraved little phrases, watching his precum drip down his fist, that you can feel yourself getting close. You desperately hump the pillow with everything you have, little whimpers of, “daddy, daddy, I want it” spilling from your angelic lips. Anakin grunts as he watches you fall apart, your cum coating the pillow in white, gooey strands. Your body relaxes lazily against it, and you can feel Anakin’s cock prodding at your entrance. Your legs shake, the overstimulation making your head spin.

“Ani..” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to slide himself inside of your tight heat. He groans, low and heavy, as he feels your cunt for a second time. Your body still rests on the pillow, and he looks down to watch the little wet patch under it growing evermore prominent. Your cunt is practically dripping on his cock.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes out, his hands grabbing the flesh of your ass. He lands a teasing little smack to one cheek, making you clench and bury your face into the sheets below you. “Aww, look at you. Daddy’s perfect little cocksleeve..”

“All for you,” you moan out, as he begins to thrust inside of you. “This pussy is all yours, daddy.”

And he wants to reply to you. He wants to agree, say that he’s all yours, too. But the both of you know that it isn’t true, that he will never fully be yours. Not if he’s married to her.

He shakes the thoughts out of his head. Not now. Not when he has you all spread out on his aching dick, not when your plump ass is bouncing back against his hips. No, he’s going to savor this. He’s going to spread open all of your holes by the time the night is done.

—

And when he’s done that, after hours of fucking (love making, is what the both of you secretly whisper to each other. Not fucking, not screwing. Just making love), he lays there with you. There is no sense in leaving. Padme has definitely noticed by now, that he’s out and he’s not coming back for the rest of the night. He holds you to him with his big arms and he whispers little stories to you about his life. You tell him about school, about your passions and your dreams. Things you’ve told him a million times before, but things that Anakin doesn’t mind hearing more than once. His fingers draw teasing circles into your naked back, and your eyes almost flutter shut.

Almost.

The sound of loud knocking on the door makes them shoot open. You hear your mother padding downstairs, and you and Anakin look at each other completely frozen.

Padme.

It’s her voice, ringing out through the house, talking to your mother with a cry in her voice.

“He’s doing it again! He’s cheating on me, cheating on me with some skank, he hasn’t come home…”

Your eyes widen, heat creeping up your neck. She’s talking about you. She doesn’t know that, but still. She knows what Anakin is up to, she knows that he’s seeing another woman. Even as hypocritical as she is, being a cheater herself, you fear getting caught.

You want to cry.

Your bottom lip wobbles, crystalline tears threatening to spill, but right before they can you hear footsteps coming up to your room. Your eyes widen, and without even thinking twice you direct Anakin towards the bathroom interconnected into your room. You close the door on him, and gather up the courage to answer whoever is on the other side as you hastily throw your clothes back on and hide your cum stained pillow.

You look at yourself in the mirror, fucked out and hair messy, but you can just say you were asleep.

Your hand on the doorknob, you let out a breath of air as you open it.

It’s her. She’s covered in rain, and she’s crying.

“I’m sorry to wake you up,” she says to you. You try not to gape like a fish. “Your mom said you had an extra blanket in here. I’m sleeping in the guest bedroom, and the comforter isn’t washed yet.”

You gulp, your heart beating out of your chest, but you manage a smile.

“Yeah. Sure, Padme. Wait there.”

You leave the door open merely a crack, and you move to grab the extra blanket sitting in a basket in the farthest corner of the room. You open the door back up and lend it to her. She says thank you, and wanders down the hall.

You close the door with an ache plaguing your chest.

#me 🤝🏻 waiting months to post the next part to my fic #bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#anakin Skywalker #insatiable series #anakin Skywalker x reader #anakin Skywalker x fem! reader #modern! Anakin Skywalker #dilf! Anakin Skywalker #dom! Anakin Skywalker #dbf! Anakin Skywalker #anakin Skywalker smut #anakin Skywalker fanfic #Hayden Christensen #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfic #Hayden Christensen fanfic #insatiable Anakin Skywalker #insatiable chapter 2

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